in a recent acting class…
Be, Don’t Show: The Art of Truthful Acting
In a recent class, my students and I explored some fundamental ideas about acting—ideas that, when applied with rigour and courage, can radically transform performance. What followed was one of those thrilling sessions where actors took extraordinary leaps, discovering a depth of truth and honesty in their work that was palpable to everyone in the room. Breaths were held, nods of wonder and awestruck smiles of delight were exchanged, applause erupted. I want to share some of the key lessons that emerged.
Be, Don’t Show
We all know the adage “show, don’t tell.” But even that can leave us performing at a distance from truth—stuck in our heads, carefully orchestrating how we think something should look. A deeper challenge is this: Be, don’t show.
This prompts the question: how does an actor simply be? The answer lies in accepting what is actually happening in the present moment. That means allowing for how you truly feel—emotionally, physically, mentally—and bringing that to your work. The ‘given circumstances’ of your actual self are not an obstacle to playing a character; they are the raw material. By embracing your current state, rather than resisting or adjusting it to fit some imagined ‘correct’ way of playing the scene, you step into genuine presence.
This is the fundamental condition for great acting. It is also a practice—a muscle that must be exercised continually.
Every Take is the ‘Fuck It’ Take
Something extraordinary happens when actors give themselves permission to let go. We often talk about the magic that emerges in the final take—when all the pressure is off and there’s nothing left to prove. But what if every take was the ‘fuck it’ take?
The key to excellence in performance is trusting yourself. Your version of the scene—while still honouring the writing—is what sets you apart. Playing to “what you think they want” might produce a competent scene, but it will rarely be exceptional, and it will never be surprising.
This is where bold choices originate—not from forced or arbitrary decisions, but from an artist trusting their own creative instincts and allowing those instincts to shape the work.
Attitude Shapes Behaviour
One of the breakthroughs in class came when we examined character relationships—not just with other people in the scene, but also with themselves.
People have attitudes towards everything—about themselves, the world, their past, the moment they are in. These attitudes shape behaviour, emotional response, and action. Instead of playing generalised emotions, we worked towards uncovering the precise attitudes that define a character’s way of being in the world. And suddenly, performances became alive with detail, specificity, and truth.
The Body Knows the Truth
Another major shift happened when we turned our focus to the body. If something isn’t working, the instinct is often to think harder, analyse more, figure it out intellectually. But the truth is, thinking takes you further away.
Your body already knows what’s real. Your breath, your stance, your gestures—they all reveal something far more immediate than the mind can manufacture. If you’re struggling in a scene, instead of trying to “fix” it in your head, look for a physical solution. Engage with space, props, clothing, etc. in a different way. Change your posture, alter your breath, interact differently with your surroundings.
Finding the Thoughts That Drive the Lines
We explored how to uncover what the character really means and intends with each line. Anyone can say the words. Not everyone can mean them.
After some basic intellectual exploration of the text (understanding what’s happening, what the character wants, the obstacles they face, and the tactics they might use), it is essential to move beyond analysis.
Get on your feet. Talk through each line. Use your body and voice to uncover what truly lies beneath. Let the visceral experience of speaking the lines guide your understanding.
Dig deep into your apprehension of the text—passionately interview yourself: "What the fuck do I mean here? What is the feeling? Where in my body is this coming from?"
This is not about refining your intellectual grasp of the text—that is the work of an observer, not an actor. Your job is to inhabit the character, to get inside their skin, and to find genuine truth in every moment.
The Release of Letting Go
There is such freedom in releasing the need to be perfect. Accept the truth that everyone is a bit shit. No one—not even you—is “the best actor ever.” In fact, the moment I admit to myself that I’m actually a terrible actor, I finally become free to exist in the imaginary world without my striving for perfection (or striving to get it right, or striving to get the job) getting in the way.
The Practice of Truthful Acting
The work of an actor is never about achieving a single moment of greatness—it is about practising, over and over, the conditions that allow truthfulness to emerge. What my students achieved in this session wasn’t magic; it was the result of letting go, trusting themselves, and embracing their own unique presence in the work.
This is the challenge: be, don’t show. Let yourself be seen. That’s where the real artistry lies.