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Chapter 1

Mistake #1: Directed by Anonymous

There’s always plenty of sitting around on sets, waiting for one task or another to be completed. A director can only do so much helping before having to get out of the crew’s way. They can spend this waiting time in many ways, hopefully productive. I like to talk with the actors about the upcoming scene or anything that’s concerning them. Often, an actor will tell me about a film or TV episode that they acted in. “Who was the director?” I often ask. This is frequently followed by a long pause and a bit of riffling through their mental contacts. Then I hear, “He was a tall guy, I don’t remember his name,” or “She had real curly hair,” or “He liked to shout a lot.”

I used to think that this was coming from some bobblehead who was only thinking about themself. Surely this couldn’t be the case with actors who are playing leads or major roles.

Uh… yes, it could. It’s especially true in television, where a series may have a dozen or more directors in a season. Every show starts to blur together, and the schedule is so hectic that basic niceties and courtesies go by the boards. People barely introduce themselves, and then they work together for days or even weeks on end but may never learn each other’s names.

Michael Zinberg: In series television, the smart directors know the crew before they walk on the stage. Most of them get to know the crew during prep. Man, they can help you or not help you. If you’re a dick, they’ll find out fast, and it won’t be pretty.

If we’re talking about the crew, this kind of behavior is rude, but not necessarily damaging. Crews are inured to being treated rudely by directors. This doesn’t make it right, polite, or even a good practice. Because they need the work, they swallow their pride and press on. Sure, it’s easier — or, more accurately, lazier. But we can get a much better result from people who we treat as individuals, not cogs in the filmmaking machine.

John Woo: I think if you want to work with actors, first you have to fall in love with them. If you hate them, don’t even bother…. I treat actors as though they’re part of my family. Before I start shooting, I insist on spending time with my actors. We talk a lot, and I try to see how they feel about life, what kinds of ideas they have, what kinds of dreams. We talk about what they love and what they hate. I try to discover what each actor’s main quality is because this is what I’ll try to emphasize in the film….

Once we start working, there are two primary things. First, of course, is communication with the actor. To achieve that, I always try to find something more trivial — we both like soccer. It’s very important because often, the whole communication process will rest on that. It’s something you can always fall back on when conflicts arise. The other thing I pay attention to is the eyes. When an actor acts, I always stare at his or her eyes. Always. Because it tells me if he or she is being truthful or just faking it.⁴

Just by knowing someone’s name and using it on a regular basis, we are making personal contact with them. They become a person who wants to help us get the job done well. They become a person who looks forward to coming to work and who feels part of something worthwhile… even if it’s just a small film or TV episode.

Martin Sheen: I had the joy of working with Steven Spielberg just last year. I couldn’t believe his character on the set. He was so available to everybody. He was so personable. He shared everything about himself and wanted to know, “Where are you from, Martin? Oh, really? I didn’t know you were from Ohio. Isn’t that something? What did your dad do?” I said, “Oh, he worked in a factory.” “I didn’t know that. Really? How many children are in your family?” You know what I’m saying? He genuinely wanted to know who I was when I had only met him socially here and there. I was so disarmed. You watch that set, and it’s not just the actors who will go to any lengths for him. It’s the whole set. The whole crew will break their back for this guy — anything. He sits behind that monitor. He knows exactly what he’s looking for, and he’ll get it in the shortest amount of time, but he won’t leave until he gets it. Then he invites everyone involved to come and look at the replay, and if someone’s not happy? “All right, let’s try it again.”

Whenever I step on a set for the first time, I make it a point to know the names of all the actors, heads of departments, and the names of their “best boys.” I will know the camera operators, their assistants. and their dolly grips — all this without having met most of them. I use mnemonic tricks, rote memory, anything to be able to address them by their first names as quickly as I can. This is not to be popular. This is just good business.

Gary Busey: One thing that’s very important to others is remember their name. You have an ally. The name is so important. People don’t realize how important the name is. Maybe they do, but not so much as to take two seconds to learn one. “I’m terrible with names” is just a lazy excuse for not paying attention.

Get ’Em While You’ve Got ’Em, Before You Get ’Em

How does the director establish a relationship with the actors? When do we get to know them? Is it in the audition? The rehearsal? The shoot?

The truth is, it gets harder and harder every year to create that relationship with the actor before the day of the shoot. At the audition, the actor comes piling into the casting office with the baggage of all the other things they’re doing that day. They grab the script sides and put all their concentration into getting a grasp of the character and how to play it. Called into the audition room, they’re lucky to have a word or two with the casting person about the scene. Then the camera records and they perform it with the casting assistant, who may or may not read well.

What’s wrong with this picture? Lots and lots. In a feature film and most television shows, the director is present and able to give the actor some direction. The smart director knows this is not just time to find an actor for a role; it is a chance to experiment with the scene long before getting to the stage. You have the actor’s attention cranked up full. They wants that job and are focused on the director like a laser.

Eriq La Salle: I find, as an actor, when a director gives me an idea in an audition, if a director gives me something I haven’t thought about, that director has me. Even in the audition process, I’m always impressed when a director says something like, “What you are doing is fine, but let’s try it this way.” Whether I get it or not, I’m glad I went in and I had an interesting time.

Whenever I direct, I’m always trying to find the thing that they haven’t thought about that’s going to give them a greater understanding of the situation, of themselves and the character. That to me is one of the marks of a good actor or director.

Even if the actor isn’t quite right for the role, they can be a source of ideas and will be delighted to try the scene any way the director suggests. I will often tell the actor who is auditioning, “You know, this is a crazy idea that isn’t in the script, but will you try playing exactly the opposite of what you just did? For example, instead of you celebrating getting an engagement ring at the dinner table, try making fun of the proposal. But use the same dialogue.”

Now I can get an idea of what the actor is made of. Now I can see how they respond under a bit of light pressure

Sometimes this works, sometimes not, but one thing is always true: The actor will never forget that you worked with them and asked them to stretch their creative juices. They will always remember you.

What can you learn from this? Plenty. You know now how much the actor can stretch and how they respond under pressure. Do they create something new, or do they just repeat what they did the first time? If the latter, then it probably won’t get any better on the set. It will be the infamous, robotic “office reading,” like a pre-recorded message. It never changes, so you should look for someone else. If the former, and the actor does respond with an unusual or creative choice, the director has also learned what kind of playing the scene will allow. It’s free rehearsal with no pressure.

Martha Coolidge: To me the auditioning process is to search the extremes of what the part might demand and find the actors who are going to bring something beyond whatever I imagined, rather than somebody who has to beat it out of them or manipulate it out of them.

This is why it is so important the director be present at auditions. Otherwise, you only get part of the information you need. Watching recorded interviews only gives you part of the information. It’s like buying a car based on seeing the commercials, but never driving it. Curiously, frustratingly, maddeningly enough, many TV shows manage to skip having the director at auditions. Maybe not by deliberately trying to keep the director out of the loop, but by dragging them off on location scouts and other things that seem more pressing. The auditions are done by the casting director and then show up online on the computers of everyone involved. Choices get made. If the director doesn’t pay attention to when auditions are happening and insist that they be present, the producer and the network subtly hijack the process.

What’s wrong with this? The actor has given a reading without much of a compass to guide them beyond the writer’s stage directions. When the producer and the network view the auditions on their computers, hopefully they aren’t taking phone calls, or chatting with associates. This would not only be disrespectful to the actor; it would also be shooting the show in the foot. Then executives send out fatwas and ex cathedra dictates about who will play every role, right down to Nurse #2 with their one line: “This way, Doctor.” Easy to see how directors have a hell of a time getting their choices heard. At least if the director were present at the auditions, they could know the actors well enough to see beneath the surface, and their recommendations would carry more weight. Besides which, the experience of working with the actor during the audition starts the creation of a bond between actor and director that will grow stronger over time.

Homework… Do It

If you’re getting serious about casting someone, you want to do homework on who they are. You can say to yourself, “Oh yes, I know Brad Pitt’s work.” Do you? Go back, look again. Pay attention to how he does things. Where are his mannerisms, his strong points, his weak points? You need that information fresh in your mind. This is where the internet is such a blessing. If you don’t know his work beforehand, you can find his films so easily. You owe it to yourself to learn all you can about what he likes and doesn’t like. Call directors he has worked with in the past and get their take on the actor. Every director will return the call and share what they know. It’s not only professional courtesy; they may need to call you one day.

Donald Petrie: Jack Lemmon kind of encompasses a role all around. Walter Matthau finds something he can glean that is the character. One of the reasons I managed to work so well with Walter is the first day we met, he said, “I don’t know if I can do this. First, this is called Grumpy Old Men. I’m not old. See this hair? There’s not a gray one in it.” He was arguing that he wasn’t old enough to play this role. I said to him, and again, I’d done my homework, so I said, “But Walter, you did so brilliantly in Koch.” Jack Lemmon had directed him in Koch, where he played an old man. “Yeah, I just don’t have a way to kind of glom onto this character. I don’t know it yet. I’ve got this doctor that works for me, and he talks like he’s got cotton in his mouth all the time.” I said, “Oh, that sounds great.” Then I knew I had him. Sure enough, if you listen to “Crazy drivers!” he sounds like he’s got something in his mouth. He chose that thing to kind of build his character around.

They’re On Board

After you, the producer, the studio, the network — and God — have discussed, argued, fought… and gone with the one God wanted in the first place, call the actor on the telephone. Don’t text, tweet, email, Facebook, or smoke signal: Call the actor. They all have phones. Call them up and welcome them to the film. Tell them how delighted you are to get to work with them. Even if you are not delighted, still tell them you are delighted. On a cynical but very realistic level, if you are going to have to work with them, you are going to have to make the best of it. That won’t happen if they think you didn’t want them in the first place. Now get their thoughts on how they see the character and how they like to work.

Jodie Foster: I love it when directors come to me before the first few days of shooting and say, “What do you like and what don’t you like?” “Tell me how I should approach you and how I shouldn’t. What happens in this circumstance? Do you like doing a lot of takes? Do you like to be first? Do you like to be second?” “Is it okay if there are lots of people surrounding you? Do you like a lot of notes?” All those questions are completely fair to the professional actor. You just set up the scenes accordingly.

When you’ve got your actor on the phone, that’s the time to ask if they have any questions or concerns about their part, wardrobe, or dialogue. You don’t want to put them on the spot or embarrass them in any way, you just want to get them thinking. If you didn’t get to meet them in person, you are putting a voice to your name. It’s a critical first step in bonding with the actor, who wants to know that you are looking out for them and will take care of them to get their best work. They’ll come to work feeling someone is there for them.

Allan Arkush: That whole sense of protecting the actor just really makes them be so much better. They end up trusting you so much that they feel they can’t make a mistake, and that if they do make a mistake, you’ve got their back. Obviously, with series regulars, that’s a lot.

This is the easiest phone call you will ever make, and it will only take a few minutes. Of course, the best is meeting in person over a meal, but I’ve made calls from tops of mountains, from the van during tech scouts, or at 3 a.m. to talk to Bryan Brown in Australia. Anywhere. Just get it done; you’ll be glad you did.

Elia Kazan: As a director, I do one good thing right at the outset. Before I start with anybody in any important role, I talk to them for a long time. The conversations have to do with their lives, and before you know it, they’re telling you all about their wives, their mothers, their children, their infidelities, and anything else they feel guilty about…. They’re dying to tell you they tried to kill their brother once. They’re eager to tell you their problems with their father…. I veil it. I make it sound like chatter. An actor will tell you anything in five minutes, if you listen…. By the time you start with an actor, you know everything about him, where to go, what to reach for, what to summon up, what associations to make for him. You have to find a riverbed, a channel in their lives that is like the central channel in the part…. You’re edging toward the part so that the part becomes them.⁵

If you’ve not been fortunate enough to have had extended rehearsals before shooting — and frankly, very few directors are so fortunate these days — you will have to do it on the day of shooting. Rehearsal is viewed by bean-counting production executives as either some arty perversion designed to cost them money or an opportunity for the actor to undermine the script. The truth is quite the opposite: Rehearsal saves them money because most of the script problems, actor questions, and staging concerns get explored, even in brief periods of rehearsal. Sidney Lumet proved this film after film, year after year. He would consistently shoot his films in four to five weeks when every other director was taking ten weeks for the same kind of film. In rehearsal, a thirty-minute discussion is no big deal. A thirty-minute discussion on the set on a tight shooting schedule is a disaster. And when is the shooting schedule not tight? James Cameron, after two thousand days of shooting on Titanic and Avatar, still says he needed more time. If there’s a protracted disagreement about a scene, not only is shooting time lost, but the tension of the situation causes tempers to flair. Producers get frantic — angry, even; directors smell hot cigar breath on their necks, and actors wonder, “What’s the big deal? I just asked a question.”

There is an art to proper rehearsal. Take a look at Judith Weston’s excellent book Directing Actors, which has a terrific section on rehearsal. As Jessica Lange said in her Academy Award acceptance speech for Blue Sky, “I want to thank our director Tony Richardson for giving us permission to play in rehearsal.” Or Harvey Keitel: “When I met Scorsese, the work between us was never ‘you walk over here and then turn around.’ It was about finding what we were searching for in my own being.” These are not the kinds of things you hear from actors when they get jammed through the process.

On the Day

So you’ve not had the benefit of rehearsal beyond what you might have gotten done in the auditions and callbacks, beyond what you worked out with the actor over dinner. You’re now standing on the set promptly at call time, 7:30 a.m.

That’s your first mistake.

You will be seized by the AD (assistant director) and frog-marched to the DP (director of photography), who wants to know about the first shot. You don’t know, do you? Because you haven’t rehearsed with the actors. Then the prop man comes over to ask if you want a ballpoint pen or a lead pencil in the scene, and the line producer comes up with a heart-stopper: They’ve lost the next location.

When will you talk to the actors? Oops. Too late! The juggernaut is rolling. You may have an idea of camera placement, but you really need to pull the cast out of the makeup trailer to work it out, find the marks, show the crew, and send the cast back to get dressed.

Oh, stop right there! Don’t ever think you don’t need the actors on set to place the camera. I’m telling you. Even if the star sends word that they’ll stand wherever you tell them, don’t believe it. They will screw you. They’re not evil, they’re not out to cause a problem; it’s like the scorpion and the frog, it’s just in their nature. When you’re all lit and they get called to the set, they’re guaranteed to look at the mark you set for them and say, “No, I wouldn’t stand there.” Argue with them you will… and lose, you will. Now you’ll have to wait through a little relight, a big loss of momentum, and a couple of layers of enamel being ground off your teeth.

If you think I’m kidding, you have been warned.

Instead, get to the set early. Forty-five minutes before call ought to do it. Go to the makeup trailer and corner sleepy actors in their chairs. What you’ll talk about doesn’t have to start out with anything more than a “Good morning, did you sleep okay?” kind of hello. Then look in their eyes. What do you see? Relaxed people? Confident people?

Do you see frozen grimaces? Thousand-yard stares? Their eyes will tell you all you need to know. The grimace and the “deer in the headlights” looks are sure signs they’re worried about the day’s work. No matter how confident they looked on other days, today’s scene is probably the scene that scares them. This is when you get to play therapist, coach, and friend.

Very importantly, never neglect the day player who is there for only one or two scenes. They are more nervous than anybody. They may only have one line, but they are Jell-O inside. They probably don’t know the other actors. If you got to audition with them, you at least are a friendly face. You are their lifeline. Ask them how they see their scenes today. Of course, they will try to do it any way you want, but ask for their thoughts. They’ve agonized over it quite a bit and may, just may, have something worthwhile to contribute. They are a collaborator, too. You cast them because they had a good handle on the part. Take advantage of what they bring to the party. Listen to them.

“How are you feeling about the scene today?” is always a safe question. “When you were thinking about the work last night, how did you see playing it?” You hope their vision agrees with yours. If their thought is different from yours, there are three possibilities:

1. It’s really interesting, and you can use it with your idea or instead of your idea.

2. It actually is the same idea, just spoken in different words.

3. It’s a terrible idea for any number of reasons.

Whatever you do, don’t panic. Remember, this is just a discussion, not a demand. Most of the time, it’s an idea that the actor thought of last night or this morning and just wants to discuss. The best thing you can do is listen with interest. You want to stay open-minded and keep remembering the thought, “What if it’s a good idea?” At this point, without showing any sweat, you can reply, “That’s really interesting, I never thought of it that way before. Tell me more.” Whether the actor’s idea is good or bad, say something like that, but always focus the actor on the action.

Elia Kazan: What you talk about is what they want out of a scene—why they are going into it. You keep them concentrated on the “objective.” If you do that, at least you’ll have clarity. If you talk about what the character is feeling, you’ll get nothing but simulated emotion.⁶

Let the actor explain themself before you stupidly jump in and say, “That’s wrong. That’ll never work.” Why? Because if you jump on their idea without at least looking like you’re considering it, they will get defensive. When actors get defensive, they get emotional. When they get emotional, their egos get in the way. When their egos get in the way, there is no talking to them. Reason has flown south, and the chill of winter descends. You have to allow the actor time to express themself and really hear them out before you say, “Wow, that’s so interesting because I had thought it might play this other way. Tell me more.” Now you hopefully have a dialogue going, a dialogue that will lead to understanding between the two of you, not a monologue from you, Ozymandias, all-powerful director. An understanding that should be about trying to find the best version of what you’re both thinking.

John Rich: On All in the Family, we’d read the script line by line, and anybody who had a question could speak up. Sometimes I’d say, “Does that make sense to you?” If they said, “No, not really,” I’d ask, “What would you say instead?” Some writers were very upset by that. But I got tremendous performances. When we were staging, I never told them how or when to move on a line. “Find your own way, I’ll help if you get tangled up.” Paying attention to any actor’s instincts really brings out the best in them. They are so much happier than one who’s been told to stand here, move there.

Remember, we’re talking about actors who don’t trust directors, actors who are used to being run over roughshod by directors. You always have to ask yourself, “What if they’re right? What if there is something here I can use?” If an actor’s idea is harmful, you need to search for clues about what’s really bothering them. So “Tell me more about how you see the scene” is not just pampering them and manipulating them through the process; it’s the therapist’s time-tested way of getting to the bottom of the problem.

Very often, it can come down to something very minor in the scene, like a stage direction or a wardrobe or prop choice. Even a particular line of dialogue can throw an actor off. That’s why I love having the writer on the set. Actors respect writers. A writer can tell the actor the very same thing you just said, and the actor takes it positively, whereas they may think the director is shining them on.

Isn’t it better to have this conversation privately before you get to the set? Of course it is. It’s not a public forum. Don’t give sensitive notes in front of other actors or crew. It’s embarrassing to the actor and often blows up on the director. A private conversation is always less stressful and less likely to cause a pissing contest.

Patty Jenkins: The most important thing that I try to seek out is a few moments, whether in person or on the phone, to sit and talk through the script with the actors. “Here’s why I see this happening. Here’s where I see the turn. I felt like so-and-so would be angry here. What do you think?” “Well, I was thinking that they are angry, and that they’d hide it.” “Oh, very interesting.” So that you at least are completely on the same page about what performance you’re trying to achieve: “Okay, we agree.” So now you’re not fighting that out on set. You’re not standing on set saying, “I think I’d walk over here.” And if you’re arguing about a deeper-level issue, you can sit and talk, and try to get on the same page before shooting begins.

By listening, you not only get the actors’ thoughts, but you have an enormous relaxing effect. They get to see your face, not just on the set amongst a horde of other faces. They get to see it up close and personal. You’re there to ask about them, not to give orders. Suggestions, maybe, but not orders.

A while ago, I took my wife to the hospital for a procedure that, though not a humongous deal, would scare anybody. She was no exception. As she lay on the gurney in the pre-op room, her heart ran a two-minute mile. Soothing words from me had little effect.

After a few minutes, the anesthesiologist came in, gowned for the procedure. He introduced himself and paid attention to her as though she were the only person in the world. Nothing much was said beyond “How do you feel?” and “Do you have any questions?” and “We’ll take good care of you.” He said he’d see her in a few minutes and traipsed off to the operating room. The change in her breathing and heart rate was beyond dramatic. It dropped like a stone, and a smile returned to her face. When they wheeled her into the operating room, she was as calm as calm could be.

Afterword: The procedure was successful, and her recovery was definitely helped by the anesthesiologist’s visit beforehand. Why would that work when my words didn’t? Of course, the anesthesiologist’s bedside manner helped, but what is more important was that his being the doctor carried gigantic credibility. So too with the director. No matter the actor’s trust level before you come to visit, it will be greater afterward. You’ll be able to tell it right away on the set as you rehearse.

Brad Silberling: What I always make a point of doing when I’m shooting is to get in as early as I can and spend a little time with the cast and just ask them questions to get to know their characters. And of course, you learn about what they’re going to be like as actors. You can get a real quick sense of someone’s process by asking a few questions about how they like to work.

For me, some of the most constructive times that I ever had to direct the actor was at the audition, where you have a somewhat calm place to sit and make adjustments with them and really see what they’re like as an actor. When they show up on the set, I could say, “Hey, do you remember the work that we were doing in the audition? Keep going that way.” So you use your casting time as directing time. I find that even happens with costume fittings. I’ll make sure that I drop by at costume fittings so we can keep talking about the character and the scenes. Use any moment you can. Because otherwise, you may not get any other rehearsal time.

Failure Is Okay

A final note on this subject: Major psychological studies of people show again and again that one of everyone’s biggest fears, by far, is speaking in public. If you thought that this did not apply to professional actors, you were very wrong. More than anyone, they understand that what they do today, especially on a recorded medium like film, video, even YouTube, is going to be around forever. For ever. That would make anyone nervous. And sometimes, the more someone acts, the more they understand the long-term ramifications of what they are doing, and the more nervous they become.

This means that the director has a big job with every single actor, every one, not only to encourage them, to make them feel comfortable, but to let them know that it’s okay to fail. It’s okay to screw up. Because only with that attitude can an actor feel free to experiment, to try new things, to go outside their comfort zone. Only in that way can the actor let go of all the safe, proven, crutchlike solutions that they’ve relied on for years. To do that, they need the express permission and encouragement from the director to leap off the cliff, knowing the director is there to catch them.

On an episode of the TV series Psych, we had an actress whose character was written to go crazy, physically berserk, writhing, screaming in one scene. She was supposed to be so violent that Sean and Gus couldn’t hold her down. We could tell in early rehearsals that the actress clearly did not like having to go outside her normal, quiet comfort zone. She was afraid of looking stupid or foolish. Even though that big scene of her going nuts was several days away, I had to start working harder to gain her trust. I told her several times on several occasions that my job was to make her look as good as possible. If she looked stupid, it would make all of us look stupid, it would make the episode stupid. I promised her I would not allow that to happen. If she went “over the top,” we would not use that take. However, she needed to feel free to go over the top, knowing that I would protect her both on the set and in the edit bay.

I told her about Jack Nicholson’s work shooting The Witches of Eastwick, in which he played the Devil. He would do five or six or more takes on every scene, getting bigger and bigger and more over the top until he exhausted his choices. Then he and the director, George Miller, would look at the work and decide what worked and what didn’t. They both believed that exploring the role of this fantastical character this way was the only way to find the right level for the character. The terrific results speak for themselves.

On the day we shot the crucial scene in Psych, I kept encouraging the actress to let her inhibitions go, that I would protect her from embarrassment. The writer, who had been worried sick about her being too bland in the scene, was standing beside me sweating bullets as we rolled the cameras. When the scene got to the part where she goes nuts, we all held our collective breath.

Suddenly, she let loose with a scream that even woke the Teamsters. Her body seemed to levitate off the bed, and Sean and Gus, who were twice her size, couldn’t hold her down.

That’s what we needed! We did it several more times from different angles, and I praised her after every take and encouraged her to try anything different that she felt like. By the end, she was hoarse, sore, exhausted, sweaty, and glowing. She said she never felt so free acting before. The writer, the producers, and USA Network were themselves over the top in praising her work. I have to thank Mark Rydell for his blunt advice, invaluable in this situation:

Mark Rydell: I like to tell them that it’s okay to fuck up. Fucking up is just fine. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t come unprepared. Don’t come not knowing anything. Other than that, you can fuck up all you want.

SUMMARY

1. Actors often distrust directors they don’t know. It’s the director’s job to gain the trust of all the actors, not just Number One on the call sheet.

2. Every actor is quite different from every other actor and has to be treated differently. There is no one-size-fits-all solution for working with actors. The director must adapt to what works best for each actor.

3. Get to know your cast and crew. Learn their names before you shoot. Showing that you care about them will encourage them to work harder to achieve the goals of the film.

4. Directors need to be present at auditions. Otherwise, they only learn part of what the actor can do.

5. Use auditions as mini rehearsals. Work with auditioning actors to see what both they and the scene are capable of. Actors are much more receptive to ideas before they get the job.

6. Often, actors who are not right for the film have terrific ideas about the scenes. Experiment in the casting session with anyone if inspiration strikes.

7. Encourage actors you are interested in to talk about themselves personally. You can learn more from this than from their carefully crafted — and always truthful — resumés.

8. When an actor is cast, make contact ASAP, on the phone if not in person. Tell the actor how glad you are to be working with them.

9. Ask the actor before shooting if they have questions about the dialogue or the character, the wardrobe, their hair, anything. Don’t wait until the day of shooting.

10. Rehearsal before shooting is an invaluable tool for ironing out problems and finding creative approaches to the film.

11. Never stage scenes without the actors present. You will be sorry.

12. Arrive at set earlier than crew call. Begin your day in the makeup trailer with the actors. Discuss the day’s work with them and make sure that everyone feels comfortable. Troubleshoot now, not on the set.

13. Keep an open mind when hearing actors’ ideas for any scene. It’s part of building trust, as well as encouraging creativity. You don’t have to agree to their ideas; you do have to listen openly.

14. Let actors find staging with minimal help from you. Take advantage of their creative imagination.

15. Let your actors know you are looking out for them. Create an environment where they feel safe to experiment, knowing you will make them look good, and you will reap the benefits of wonderful performances.

16. “It’s okay to fail” is a calming mantra for an actor. Relaxation is a key precursor to creativity. Assure your actors you are there to catch them if they go over or under the top.

⁴ Laurence Tirard, Movie Maker’s Master Class (New York: Faber and Faber), 148.

⁵ Jeff Young. Kazan (New Market Press: New York, 1999), 130.

⁶ Young, Kazan, 72.