I just realized that when I talked about playing the verbs, I contrasted them with adjectives, as in, “my character is bossy”, as opposed to “I am bossing people around [tactic] because I need everything about the party to be perfect because it’s the first party my new in-laws are coming to, and I want to make a good impression, because I don’t think they like me.”
The verb in this instance would be, “To impress”.
But there is another, perhaps more common, route that actors go instead of using verbs (and I am stunned to realize I only vaguely referenced it in those posts. Ah, I guess I’m human. Or else my students at the time were really locked into adjectives.)
Once they move beyond the stereotypes of bossy, etc., actors tend to focus on their character’s feelings. So, in this party example, my character might be frustrated, or angry, or anxious, or any number of other feelings. Let’s say that this is a large lawn party, and I have a dance floor and want good music, and my cousin has told me he can be my DJ, and he’ll handle all matters about the sound system, etc. An hour before the party, however, it’s clear that he is just a wannabe, he’s completely clueless and nothing is working, and I am upset. Or angry. Or frustrated. Or anxious. Or any number of other emotions appropriate to this circumstance.
And a lot of actors will focus on playing upset, or angry, or frustrated, or anxious.
Why doesn’t this work? First, it’s just as generic as playing “bossy”. Second, it’s arbitrary (my character is probably upset, angry, frustrated, AND anxious all at the same time, but if I choose one emotion, I’m only playing one and bypassing the others.) And third (which relates to the first reason, but is really a separate item), it’s approaching the problem from the wrong end of the stick.
If I play “I want to host a perfect party because my in-laws think I don’t deserve their son, but if I pull this off, their attitude about me will change,” I don’t have to think about whether I am angry or frustrated or whatever. My lines in the play will lead me in the right direction. If I really know who my character is and stick to my guns about what I want, the rest tends to fall into place pretty naturally. (Okay, that may be a little simplistic, but it’s not far off from the truth.)
More importantly, however, the emotions that manifest themselves will seem perfectly natural, and not forced. If main concern is making sure that the audience knows that I am angry or shocked or delighted, the degree to which I am any of those things is not necessarily in correct proportion to the scene. It’s easy to (particularly) overdo the emotion. When you focus on your verb for the scene — what you want and are working very hard at getting — the emotions tend to take care of themselves in absolutely the right way.
Focusing on the emotions rather than what you need also runs the risk of anticipating the “event” that triggers the emotion (often what someone else has said to you), and the split-second difference is enough to make the audience find the moment to be unbelievable.
Ignoring the emotions and just going after what we want with all the determination we can muster is so counter-intuitive to the human experience and our assumptions about what actors are doing onstage. Emotions rule, don’t they? Well, yes, they do. But they are also sly devils that make their way into a scene whether you like it or not. This is actually a blessing for the actor. When you learn the lesson inherent in this (which is to focus on what you WANT in a scene), you learn that being open to whatever emotions arise in you when you rehearse is ALL you really need to do. The rest takes care of itself.