We’re in that “thick” “part of the year again... The industry quiets down. Routines dissolve as we travel or have to be in multiple places at once. And the calendar is preparing to turn over into a new year, which somehow feels both arbitrary and monumental.

This is transition season (for better or worse). The air changes, our schedules change, the work changes, and whether we like it or not, we change a little too.

But I’m not here to talk about resolutions and fruitcakes. I’m here to acknowledge that this state of transition is a part of a larger picture for actors that, of course, I will throw your way in 3...2...1...

The Rehearsal Mindset

In theatre (we’ll get to on-camera in a sec), we get weeks of rehearsal. Weeks to discover, fall on our faces, ask questions, try something questionable, try something wonderful, and sometimes mix up which is which. Every day we walk into the room with a partner who might give us something new, a director who might change the plan, and a stage manager who is quietly tracking our chaos with the patience of a freaking saint.

And because there’s no audience yet, we have permission to explore. We’re not expected to nail it. We’re expected to find new stuff.

Then AFTER all that exploration... once we’ve found a repeatable version that is a culmination of our rehearsals... the performance gets “locked in.” The director leaves, the responsibilities shift, and the cast and stage manager carry the show. The choices become specific because they need to be. Safety, cues, clarity... all of that depends on consistency.

But on camera? We don’t get that luxury of a long, playful rehearsal period.

Instead, we pretty much need to think of each take as a new rehearsal.

The moment the camera rolls, we’re discovering the scene in real time. Each take is its own chance to learn something new and to respond to your scene partner(s), the director, and your own impulses based off the work you’ve done.

And here’s where it gets tricky:

We’ll do a take that feels incredible and immediately try to recreate it.

Or we’ll do one that feels awful and immediately try to “fix” it.

And the second we start chasing or correcting, we stop exploring. We stop listening. We stop letting the room change us.

Meisner would say the answer is always in the other person.

Chekhov would say the spark of a new impulse will wake up the rest of the body.

Viewpoints would say that anything in the environment (yes, even the weird hum of your refrigerator) is rich with potential.

And I see it all the time in tapes: the moment an actor shifts from being locked in to being surprised... we see real human thought. It’s alive. It’s a human being having a revelation. And nine times out of ten, that “out of control” take is the one we send off.

Because it wasn’t a result. It was a discovery.

The Phrase That Ties It All Together

Whether we’re talking about the holidays, the new year, or the next take, try this on for size:

“That felt good. I wonder what will happen next time.”
or
“That didn’t feel good. I wonder what will happen next time.”

Both are equally useful. Both keep us curious. Both keep us from gripping too tightly to what already happened, good or bad.

This time of the year can feel chaotic. Unknown. Uneasy.
But in a rehearsal mindset, unknown doesn’t mean danger.
Unknown means possibility.

Whatever happened, that moment is done. A new one is coming. And we get to walk into it with the same openness we bring into a scene where we genuinely don’t know what our partner is about to do.

The more you practice it in your daily life, the easier it will be to activate it during as scene.

See you soon!
–J