Habits, Part 1: The Character Breakdown

This is the first in a series of posts on habits that can be practiced every time you work. On its own, each habit is small – just something practical to keep in mind. But practicing enough small habits of craft can lead to big breakthroughs of artistry.

These habits apply to film actors, but the underlying principles carry across disciplines. To keep things organized, let’s begin with the first time you see the script and work our way toward the final performance. Which makes the first habit this: avoid reading character breakdowns.

(A quick aside: this post is aimed at actors who are represented by agents. If you self-represent, it will hopefully still point to ways to separate the agent and actor parts of yourself.)

Most film auditions begin like this: your agent sends an email, which often includes a character breakdown – a brief description of the role for which you are reading.

The obvious choice here is to read that breakdown right away. It’s right there, the first thing you see, and you want to know all you can about the character, right? It may seem counterintuitive, but avoid reading that breakdown.

Go first to the script. Read it – out loud – and start to make your choices. Play with it, experiment. When you feel you’ve found your unique and most compelling approach to the role, only then can you peek at the character breakdown.

Why? Why would you stay willfully ignorant if that breakdown can tell you what they are looking for? Because that’s the last thing you need to be worried about: what they are looking for. This is what is wrong with how so many actors approach auditions, and it’s the first and foremost reason to avoid the breakdown: start your process with you and your instincts, not with some notion of what is “right” or what others want.

A character breakdown is most often written by a casting agent, and it is intended for a talent agent, who reads it to see which of her actors she’s going to submit for the role. So the breakdown is written by and  intended to be read by somebody looking at the role from the outside. Your job is never to look at the role from the outside, so of what use could that breakdown be?

You didn’t necessarily get the audition based on your similarity to that breakdown. Or perhaps you did. Either way, your only concern is this: they want to see you. Any information in the breakdown at best doesn’t change that and at worst guides you off course.

Some breakdowns are fairly innocuous, but I’ve seen many examples of how they can misguide you. Because they describe the role from the outside, breakdowns sometimes include judgments about the character: “He’s a real nerd; He’s a total letch; He’s really uptight.” That’s a terrible place from which to start to make your choices, and it puts you at great risk of showy clichés.

And there are times you are called in despite the breakdown, because they want to broaden the scope. I once was called in for a role described as “short, fat, and ugly, with a handlebar mustache.” I’m 6’3”, fairly lean, and clean-shaven. So ugly was my only match. If I were try to hew to that description somehow, I would look like an ass, and I’d miss discovering how the role worked with someone quite different from that description; someone like me.

And sometimes the breakdown is just wrong. I once got a callback for a film where my agent told me, “They want to see you again, but you got it all wrong. Luckily, so did everyone else.” The casting agent had misinterpreted the style of the film, and the breakdown had led every single actor down the wrong path. The second audition was what I would have done the first time had I not tried to mold myself to the breakdown. It was a lot more fun, and I got the part.

The worst information offered by breakdowns shows up more frequently in the commercial world: “A So-and-So Type,” where so-and-so refers to whichever celebrity they wish they could have gotten instead of you. If you’re a comedian doing impressions, this is valuable information. But to the actor, it’s a terrible distraction that calls out the worst habits. In truth, you will win far more roles by convincing them that they’re looking for a “you” type than by trying to become someone else.

For all of the times that a breakdown has been disruptive and misleading, I can think of very few times that it has been helpful. The best breakdowns offer a simple physical description and some context for the scene. You should discover the context by reading and playing with the script, and any physical clues not offered by the script don’t concern you. Remember, if you are being asked to read, they want to see you. Even if you are quite different from the breakdown.

I don’t believe that I can convince you not to look at the breakdown at all. You’re convinced that there’s some important piece of information – about wardrobe, about the film’s style – that you’re going to miss out on. So I only say this: discipline yourself to always go to the script first. Spend time there, make your choices, have fun, and feel ownership. Then, when you return to the breakdown, you’ll have a context from which to take or leave any information it offers.

But I dare you to try this once: ignore the breakdown altogether. It wasn’t written for you, and it offers no help. Your deliberate avoidance will give you a sense of empowerment – shirking any notions of looking for what they want – and lead you to make choices that are bold, fun, and, above all, true to yourself.

Your habits are not about finding approval or chasing jobs. They are about making you a better artist and giving you a strong sense of self. The work will come as you develop your craft, and it will be work you can take pride in.

Next up: Time with the script, and the highlighting habit. 

Best. Audition. Advice. Ever.

Prepare yourself. I am about to give the best advice on auditioning that you will receive:

Stop auditioning.

I did, some time ago. My agent might tell you that I go out on auditions, and casting agents frequently see me at auditions, but I have long since given up on auditioning. Instead, I will happily work for free for a few minutes. If we enjoy working together, we can sign contracts and keep going. If not, it was fun and we’ll do it again sometime soon. No more auditions, just short-term pro bono work to see if we’re a good fit.

The difference is far more than semantic. Auditions make me nervous, while work gets me excited. Auditions make me think about what they want; working makes me think about what I do best.

An actor’s greatest poison is the urge to impress. I think I’ll type that again, in boldface: An actor’s greatest poison is the urge to impress. It is ruinous to our craft at every step of the journey, yet it is, to many, an inherent part of this thing we call an audition.

Your agent emails saying you have an audition. You look first at the breakdown, hoping to decipher “what they’re looking for.” You make a guess and read the script with that in mind. You begin to prepare an audition that you hope will impress them and be this thing they are looking for. You go in and do your best to convince them that you are a good actor and right for this role, and then walk out feeling at best ambivalent and at worst like a failure. Sound familiar?

Imagine instead you are given a role without an audition. You don’t need to read a breakdown; you know they want you. You read the script to get all the clues you need, and your preparation process is invigorating as you puzzle out how you will bring your unique personality and skills to fighting for this character’s needs. As you begin to work with director and other actors, you make adjustments, big and small, always excited by the chance to further explore. When the work ends, your only regret is that you have to let go of the exhilaration that comes from practicing your craft.

Why can’t this describe the audition process as well? It can, if you rid yourself of the need to impress. Your job is never to figure out what they want or to convince anyone that you are a good actor.

Look at those actors with you in the waiting room. Do they seem like your competition? They are not. They cannot be. Because they cannot go in and be you playing the role. And that is what you are there to do. To be you, playing.

This is the true picture of what is actually happening. It is impossible to compete with another actor, because two actors can’t play the same character. We may use the same words, but a character doesn’t exist on the page. A character is a combination of the writing, the actor who uses those words as tools, and the observer. The actor’s singular perspective creates a character that can be played by no one else. Many actors have played Hamlet, but, because they were all unique individuals, we cannot say they all played the same character.

And that’s what makes acting fun: solving the puzzle from your own original point of view. Think back on auditions that have gone well. You’ll probably recall that when you first read the script, you were flooded with instincts and ideas. You instantly had your own take on the character, or perhaps you found it after some work. You knew how to own the part, and you took that into the room.

That’s the kind of actor every director and casting director wants to see. If your instincts don’t kick in right away, don’t get sidetracked by thinking about what someone else wants, or what might impress them the most. Stay on the course to find your personal approach to the scene, and let the judgment of others be damned.

I’m often asked how actors deal with all the rejection. I’m not sure, as I haven’t been rejected for a very long time. Sometimes I work for a few minutes, pro bono, and sometimes I work several weeks. I may have successes and frustrations as I work, but for that time, I am the character that only exists while I am playing it. The reasons for not hiring someone else are innumerable, but none of them involve rejecting me, because I have not offered myself up for approval.

You may have heard that auditioning is like constantly going on job interviews. It is not, it is not, it is not. It is like constantly working for free while hoping paid work follows. Job interviewees are hoping to get the job; you need to go in as if you’ve been hired.

This mind set, I know, is no easy trick. Many of the best actors I know have it instinctually. When I speak of this desire to impress, they give me blank or confused stares. But I think most actors have that part in them that seeks approval, and this business certainly can bring it out. Getting past it is a mind trick that takes some practice. But from the first time you try it – the first time you think “I’m going to go to work now” before entering the casting agent’s office – you will know it is right. You will know it feels better. And you will know that it is the key to both success, happiness, and longevity in this business. And so you’ll keep getting better at it, until it’s your second nature.

Become the kind of actor you want to be by forgetting about what kind of actor they may want you to be. Stay true to the story, the character, and, above all, yourself. Stop being nervous, stop trying to impress people, and please, stop auditioning.