The Acting and The Performance: Know the Difference

It’s a bit ironic that our art, which is the most collaborative of all art forms, can be so quickly poisoned by ego.

Andy Serkis has caused a bit of a dust-up over some comments he’s made in recent interviews. He sums up his argument in this article, but the essence of the controversy is his claim that acting for performance capture and live acting are the same: “Acting is acting. Performance capture is a technology, not a genre; it's just another way of recording an actor's performance.  . . . all the things that go into making that character -- when I see that up onscreen, I see my acting choices.”

I agree with Serkis that performance capture and live acting are no different, from the actor’s perspective. But the teams of animators and visual effects artists who worked on films with Serkis are rightfully upset. They hear him saying that he is solely responsible for the character, and they are essentially digital costumers. This is hugely offensive, both to animators and to costumers.

Because this is where ego can start to muddy the argument. Mr. Serkis begins by talking about his acting, but he too quickly evolves into talking about the performance. And for film actors, those are two very different things.

The actor is but one part of a final performance that affects an audience. This is especially true for film actors, and we must never forget it.

In performance capture, some enhancements to the actors work are obvious: Serkis acted like a chimp, and the animators made those actions look like a real chimp. But live actors can’t stake more of a claim on the final product: our actions are also enhanced by the work of a huge team. Writers who give us words, cinematographers who find the right angle, directors who place us in a whole, and editors who make our rhythms work are just the beginning of a long list of people who can say they are a part of the final performance. Just as traditional animators take an actor’s voice and create a whole character, there are many people who will take your work and make choices that shape it into the final performance the audience sees. And that performance is as similar and dissimilar to you as a gifted chimp is to Andy Serkis. It is the best part of your choices, your actions, and your individuality, polished and enhanced and crystallized by a team of artists to whom you owe a great deal.

Knowing this will make you a better actor for two reasons. The first is obvious: it will keep your ego in check and make you more pleasurable to work with. The second and more significant reason is that it will let you focus on your job. The actor who equates her or his work with what will finally be up on the screen feels a great burden and tends to overreach, trying to be that version of “extra awesome” that we perceive all movies stars as being. But that is not your job. You are to keep it focused on the moment and tell the truth. There is a whole team of people who are worried about what the performance will look like from the outside; your only job is to see it from within.

So let us quell the concerns of Mr. Serkis by acknowledging his acting but not giving sole credit for the performance. When the Oscars are given out later this month, take note that the award is for “Best Actor,” and not “Best Performance.” Such an award would lead to a very crowded stage.