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A Nasty Bit of Laundry

If you’ve spent much time around actors, you’ve probably heard something scurrilous whispered between them. That’s in public. What actors say in private among themselves is often worse — and here it is. You ready?

Japanese edition of I’ll Be in My Trailer.

Many… most… let’s say lots of actors don’t trust directors. Not a bit, not a whit, not a crumb. They have been flogged, flayed, and betrayed by directors ever since they were told in acting class to pretend they were a fried egg that had been beaten by their rooster father. Misled, misrepresented, and flat-out ignored, they have been treated like robotic pieces of meat, if you’ll pardon the metaphoric succotash. Viewed as misbehaving children who live in a fantasy world of explosive egos and DUIs, actors often find themselves demeaned, devalued, and depressed.

Taylor Hackford: Well, the whole idea of trust between actors and directors is so critical, and I think it’s why many actors distrust directors: because they never take the time to gain their trust and to let them feel that somebody smart is working with them. Some directors are afraid of actors. Some directors don’t want to talk to them.

It’s easy to understand how an actor can store up resentments over time and begin to see all directors as louche or suspect. Polite directors, talented directors, and helpful directors all get lumped in with the mediocre ones, the abusive ones, the screamers, the idiots, and the invisible directors who only shoot the same sequence — master, two shot, over shoulder, close-up, close-up — time and again, no matter what they’re shooting.

Delia Salvi: The best-kept secret in the entertainment industry is how much actors, including award-winning performers, distrust directors, and how directors often fear or dislike actors.¹

Exaggeration, you say? Maybe. You have to look at it from the point of view of the actor who has been tortured and ignored their whole career. Their resentment has built up a volcanic pressure inside that wants to explode when a director comes around with their snotty little “notes.” Even the famously talented directors — the Scorseses, Spielbergs, and P.T. Andersons who are great communicators — often have to rehabilitate the battle-scarred, shell-shocked, PTSD-ridden actor to gain their trust as a creative collaborator.

Gilbert Cates: I understand why some actors become pricks. I get it. You go through many difficult times before you get cast in a role. You build up a heap of resentment and anxiety. Most of it is fear. Most of it is actors afraid of being asked to do something that they can’t do, and being found out that they can’t do it.

Little wonder that any actor who has achieved any level of respect will demand director approval, both in films and television series. They want to feel confident that their director not only knows their craft as a filmmaker but also has respect for the actor and understands the character they’re playing. They want to know they will be protected from looking bad or foolish. Actors want to be directed… but by people who help them do their best work.

Jodie Foster: I think sometimes directors are afraid of actors because they don’t entirely understand the process of acting. There’s something very mysterious about it. It’s a skill. They just don’t know what the skill is.

When an actor steps on a film set, they know that they only have so much control over the elaborate process of filmmaking. It’s quite different from the world of theater, where most actors are trained. There, they have much more control over their world. Every night is a different performance that can be improved, corrected, and adjusted. Bad directions can be ignored, staging can be fixed. That doesn’t mean it will be better or that it was bad initially. It just means that the actor feels more control in a theater environment.

Sadly, Judd Nelson, member of the famous Brat Pack and star of The Breakfast Club, reminisced once that when he first started acting, “I thought all movies were going to be collaborative and have rehearsals and a director who liked us.”²

Stephen Collins: I think sometimes as an actor, you just know that you can trust a director. You know him well enough to say, “Oh, screw it. I’m going to take a leap of faith because he’s got something going here.” I think actors just want to be heard. If an actor really feels that he or she has been heard, they’ll give up what’s on their mind. If you feel like you’ve been stamped down and can’t put your two cents in, then you never commit to the scene.

Let’s see how that worked out in practice with one of the toughest actors, and one of our best directors.

Michael Zinberg: I was doing an episode of The Practice. I had a huge show with James Whitmore Sr. He was a brilliant actor. I grew up watching him on television and in movies, on the stage when I could. I was intimidated. I was frightened. Now, I knew his son very well, James Whitmore Jr. He’s a great director in his own right. I said, “I got a huge show with your dad, do you have any tips?” He thought for a beat, and he said, “Well, if you have anything to say, it better be good.”

So in comes Mr. Whitmore to talk with me about the script. We get to this one pivotal scene. I said, “This is how I think this scene should play.” He said, “You’re absolutely wrong.” I said, “Okay, tell me.” He pitched me his idea. I said, “I don’t think so. I don’t think that fits within the context of the show.” I said, “But I’ll check. I’ll check with David Kelley, the showrunner, and I’ll come back to you.” Kelley agreed with me how the scene should play. I came back to Whitmore: “I think you’re wrong. But let’s see what happens when we get to the stage.”

So now we rehearse the scene. He does the scene exactly the way I asked him to do it. So at this point, I’m taking “yes” for an answer. When we roll on the first take, he performs beautifully and flawlessly, exactly what I’d asked him to do. Take two, same thing, perfect. I said, “I’m good.” I said, “I think that scene is exactly right.” I said, “Is there anything else that you’d like to do? Would you like to do another take any way you want to do it?” Whitmore replies, “Nope.” I said, “You’re happy, I’m happy.”

Later on that day, I went to his dressing room. I asked him, “Were we saying the same thing all along?” He said, “No, no, no, you’re dead wrong.” I said, “I’m dead wrong?” He said, “Yeah, you totally misinterpreted the scene.” I said, “Okay, but you did the scene the way I asked you to do it.” He said, “You’re the director.” I said, “Thank you,” and I walked out. He won an Emmy for that performance, having nothing to do with me, just because he’s so damn good. I mean, he was brilliant.

Postscript: I ran into him at a restaurant in Beverly Hills. He was having dinner with his wife, Noreen, and I was with my wife, Leslie. I went over to him, and I said hello and introduced them to Leslie. Whitmore Sr. looks up at her and says, “Well, your boy isn’t much of a director, but he’s got good taste in women.”

I have been asking directors and actors everywhere: What are the signs and symptoms of directors who aren’t trusted? What do they do that makes actors grit their teeth and wish they had gone to law school instead? We’re not just talking about being popular with actors (nice, but hardly the end goal). Filmmaking is not primarily a social club. What do we as craftspersons and artists do that gets in the way of making the best film possible? Many of the problems we’ll discuss occur in television or low-budget films, where schedule often trumps quality and there is little time for niceties. But the truth is that they are universal problems existing at all levels of filmmaking.

For now, let’s focus on the cast. Many of the ideas will also apply easily to our crew, who need and deserve just as much respect and attention as the cast — the difference being the crew is usually more compliant and easier to work with.

It’s enough to say for now that Number One on the call sheet (as the star or lead actor is code-named) is such a critical part of every equation and production decision that to ignore, demean, or take lightly their participation is a fatal mistake. Whether they are well behaved and committed to making the best film possible, just pulling down a paycheck, or on an ego trip, Number One must be considered at every turn. We want them to look their best, to feel their best, and to enjoy giving all they can give to the film they are fronting and headlining. Being Number One is a huge responsibility.

And it goes without saying that there is no “one size fits all” when it comes to actors, how they work, their temperaments, their backgrounds. It’s part of the challenge and part of the fun.

D.J. Caruso: I learned, having five children, just as every one of them is totally different from the other, every actor is different. You can’t have the same directorial approach to Al Pacino that you have to Shia LaBeouf or to Michelle Monaghan or to Matthew McConaughey. What I’ve learned is to quickly discover whether the actor is a reactive actor or an aggressive actor.

Val Kilmer, for example, is very reactive. He knows what he wants to do, and for me to affect his performance, I have to use off-camera people to change his performance. He reacts to what he’s getting from the other actors.

On the other hand, a guy like Matthew McConaughey is just gung ho. He just wants an action, like “be more aggressive.” If aggressive isn’t enough, it’s going to be, “I want you to take her clothes off when you’re talking.” He’ll come back and say, “Give me a verb. Give me a verb.”

You have to learn to adapt to every actor’s style of working. Where a guy like Shia LaBeouf — and this is the truth — take one, take two, I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to do anything. He’s spoiled me forever.

But Shia spends preproduction with me. He goes on location scouts. He calls me and asks me questions. In rehearsal, we never do the lines, but he wants to know something like, “Should I have a picture of my brother in my hand?” Everything’s about his preparation and the foundation of the character. When we get to the set, I swear to God, you’re prepared to do more takes because… you always have to do more takes. But Shia nails it the first time. I think, “That can’t be it, I can’t be moving on already.” You literally can, because in two movies I’ve done with him, he’s messed up a line once, one time. And it was a line that I changed the night before.

So I’ve learned to really adapt my style and figure out what kind of actor I’m working with, from the Angelina Jolies who are very cerebral, to Matthew McConaughey, who is all about action.

So how do we deal with this hotbed of distrust, egos, and competition? The entire philosophy of this book is based on one simple principle: People tend to reject the influence of someone they don’t like. Whether it’s a disliked director, doctor, or teacher, there is tremendous resistance to following their advice or learning from them. Benedict Carey, writing for the New York Times about George Steinbrenner, the tyrannical owner of the New York Yankees until his death in 2010, points out that even he mellowed substantially in his later years, having realized that the most effective leaders “find a way to mix some patience with their Patton, to persuade rather than intimidate, to convince people that their goals are the same as the boss’s.”³

And there is no need to transform oneself into a grinning ape or Uriah Heep, Charles Dickens’ obsequious, handwringing “’umble servant.” It’s mostly about respect.

D.J. Caruso: You have to be the authority figure. You can’t be just buddy-buddy because there has to be a captain. And so I’ve learned over the years how to try to choose an actor who’s really going to be your partner.

And that you can only learn by sitting with them, by talking to other people that have worked with them so you don’t step on land mines where they were sweet in the meeting and then turn into a monster on the set.

Let’s look at common mistakes that directors make — in the hopes that you can avoid them.

¹ Delia Salvi, Friendly Enemies (New York: Billboard Books, 2003), xv.

² Susan King, “Judd Nelson Interview,” Los Angeles Times, October 2, 2012.

³ Benedict Carey, “The Boss Unbound,” New York Times, July 18, 2010.