My Experience Acting

Milton,

I just finished your book again for the…I lost count now.  I think it is 17 or 18.  I love the letter between you and Stella at the end.  How sweet of her to comfort your angst, even though the time it took to reach you was awful.  How did that play turn out? What still stands out to you from your days as an actor?  I’m sure you had some fun times. 

Sincerely,

Curious About Your Experience

Dear CAYE,

First of all, thank you my friend for being so enthusiastic about my book. I had no idea if anyone would find it useful or not. It took me twenty years to figure out a form that I thought would work. I’m still shocked that it does.

Truth be told, I actually don’t remember the angst. I’m not even sure I expected Stella to respond. I think it was only when I started writing the book that I put together the time it would have taken to get a response.

Obviously, I just kept working in rehearsals after I sent my letter to Stella. I’d love to know what I said in the letter. I’m always curious what problems actors have, which is kind of the premise of my book. It would be interesting to know what problems I was having. From Stella’s answer I obviously said something about my actor work at home and my inability to incorporate it into rehearsals. She also figured out that I was trying to force my “homework” into the rehearsal, rather than trusting that my work was there … and to let it happen. In my own teaching I’m very insistent on that idea. Letting it happen rather than making it happen. I find constantly that actors are pushing for a result they have in their minds. Or pushing for a result they discovered while working on something. 

The whole idea that Stanislavsky late in his teaching said to his students, “It’s all subconscious,” struck me. And the idea that you work on the subconscious consciously is also important. That’s why I think talking everything out is so important. It’s ultimately more effective than “thinking it out” or, God forbid, “writing it out”. 

The play I was in was supposed to run for three weeks as I recall and it was so successful that they extended the run for the entire summer. Mercifully we didn’t have home videos back then, so there is no record of the performances. Only the memory of a few actors who were involved. I have no idea what any of the rest of them thought, but I certainly think it was the definitive version of the play! The one thing I'm sure of is that it was better than the recent revival of The Boys in the Band on Broadway. They completely missed what the play was about. They thought it was either a sit-com or a museum piece. What they did not get at all was that it was a play about people who live their lives in the background. Afraid to be seen. They filmed it and I only managed to get through about twenty minutes.

I’m not sure I ever really liked acting that much. There are really only two moments that stand out for me. One was the “breakthrough” monologue I did in Stella’s class. Stella always liked me. Socially. We knew many of the same people. I was one of the producers of a Tennessee Williams play and I invited her to the opening. We both knew Tennessee. Stella came to the celebration when Vanities became the longest running play in off-Broadway history. In fact her date was a producer I’d known from a TV series I’d done in London years before. She often invited me to attend social events with her (in case she got bored),but, she never really took me seriously as an actor. I always worked hard in class, I was always prepared, but my middle-class uptightness always got in the way of the work. 

I worked my ass off to overcome this middle class uprightness problem. And finally in a scene study class (after being in class for several years) I did a monologue from the Arthur Miller play, The American Clock, I broke through. At the end of the monologue (and I can still hear Stella’s voice saying this) she said, “Well, you got it!” And then she added warmly, “And it’s about time.” She followed that with a story about Brando in class as a student, which was always a good sign. Two weeks later I followed it with a monologue from a Clifford Odets play (Waiting for Lefty) and she said to the class, “You see. Now he can play anything. Any class. Any time period.” The next weekend I had dinner at her house in the country. When she walked me to my car after dinner (I can also still hear her saying this) she commented, “You must want it very badly, because I never thought you’d get it.”

The other moment I remember was Stella’s response to a scene from a play called The Dresser. It was Stella’s last class in Los Angeles and it was decided that the teacher’s would all perform. My scene partner, Bill Lithgow, suggested the scene, since it was about the theater – “and Stella loves plays about the theater.” We agreed that if it went well, she would talk about “the theater” and that was always inspiring. The scene went particularly well, although it was hard to tell. I was a very well thought of teacher so a standing ovation was not a surprise. But what followed was a complete surprise. Stella’s response to the scene, which you can see from this not very good quality video that someone took, was overwhelming. 

I acted in a play a few years later. Even though I got a nice review in the LA Times, I saw a video and realized I was nothing special. I was the sort of actor you would hire for a repertory company, because I could do numerous parts … probably above average, but I really didn’t have the "it" factor. Something about my ego couldn’t take that fact … and I was beginning to get more secure about teaching, which I found much more fulfilling anyway, so acting became of no interest at all. 

I did have a funny moment about a month ago. Chris Petrovski was staying with me while shooting an episode of the FBI and he had to put an audition on tape. He sent the tape and his agent asked him who the reader was. I said, "Why? Does he want to sign me?”

I’ve always had this idea that people who do readings for actors that are being put on tape secretly want to be discovered. It happened once with Chris when our friend, Alec, was reading opposite him. You’ve never heard such acting. I told Chris to never use Alec again.

Keep in touch.

Milton