We had a really stimulating discussion in last Saturday's Process class. I was working with a new actor (in class for a little over a month) that was facing an issue we all face at some point -- indicating, forcing, embellishing.

I had asked her, in the next repetition of the scene, to "do nothing." She sat in one place and just spoke the words to her partner. What she then proceeded to do was not "nothing" -- this particular actor has a really live instrument; what she's feeling really comes through. Rather, her work was much more focused, with her intentions much more directed at her partner than before. The class agreed that what they saw was much clearer and more compelling than the repetition earlier.

When I asked the actor to share what her subjective experience was, she said that in the first scene she felt adrift in a raft on a stream -- getting thrown all over the place, not really knowing what to do. The second repetition felt like she was much more active in determining the direction of the raft, rowing with direction and purpose. Her inner water was still charging, she just exercised more control externally -- pretty exciting!

I love this analogy! As my students know, I'm always looking for apt analogies for effective acting -- computers, cars, tennis, a horse-driven cart, blue whales (really, blue whales!).

SO. In white water acting, you've water you're trying to negotiate -- emotion. Your outer technique is what you do with your paddles -- movement, voice, -- well, movement and voice. The negotiation all actors have between their inner connection and outer technique is fundamental to great acting, both for the stage and for the camera. The raft, oars and technique may differ between the two mediums, but the need to row, along with the need to let the river take its course, are both essential.

If you're caught in the rapids, and you physically aren't in control, you need more training on your outer technique. You may need to practice on a quieter river until you master the technique necessary to handle a more emotional one.

More often, actors are overpaddling on a river that's too quiet. No, it's not the script's fault, usually. Usually, the actor isn't finding their own inner rapids in response to the story they're within. That's why we work so hard in every class to push our choices to the point that they move us, internally. If you don't make the circumstances and your objective for a scene THE MOST IMPORTANT THING THERE IS (at least for the duration of that scene), your emotional river's too slow -- and you run the risk of boring yourself as well as those watching.

Imagine flying down some whitewater rapids, where you're just barely able to handle the oars properly -- it's pretty exciting, huh? The advantage is, that if you crash or go under, it's just a scene. You don't break any bones or drink a bunch of river water.

Keep your oars moving and seek out the whitewater inside!