Marcus was quiet for a second. “So less confident?”
Jason tilted his head, thinking through how to explain what he meant. “I’d say more exposed. More vulnerable. Like you’re opening up your very soul for everyone to see.”
“Yikes, okay. That’s hard.”
“Not too hard for you. And telling the truth and making people feel something—that’s what matters in art.”
“That seems big.”
Jason laughed. “Itisbig. Hal’s smart. He knows exactly what he’s doing. But there’s still risk in letting somebody see the real you.” Jason shrugged lightly. “Especially when everybody’s so sure about who he is. One other thing, don’t push the important lines so hard. Shakespeare already did the work. Let the language do its part. They don’t call him a genius for no reason. This is an instance where the actor doesn’t have to make the script better. It’s already perfection.”
“Got it.”
“The other thing is rhythm. Hal’s mind moves fast. One thought leads to the next.”
“Like in real life.”
“Correct. You’ve got natural stillness,” Jason said. “Most young actors performatpeople. You clearly feel things very deeply. It shows. And we can pull more of that out of you.”
Marcus looked surprised by that. “We can?”
“We can. Try it again. This time, speak just to me. Show me who you are through Hal.” Jason leaned back in his chair.
Marcus stood up again. The first few lines came out almost exactly the same before he caught himself, pausing, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. Jason could see the moment Marcus made the decision to go to that deep place he kept hidden from the world. The teenage mask he wore slipped away, and suddenly Jason was seeing a sweet, damaged kid confessing to the world about who he really is. The intimacy of it was breathtaking. And heartbreaking.
I know who you think I am but you’re wrong. I’m so much more.
I know, kid. I see it.
When he finished, silence settled over the kitchen for a beat.
“Yep, that’s it.” Jason looked up at Marcus. “You were vulnerable. And I saw you in every word. If an actor lets an audience see the truth—the fears and doubts that live in each of us—we’ll go anywhere with him. If he doesn’t, we’re just watching somebody say words.”
Marcus was quiet.
Jason shrugged lightly. “Letting people see your exposed underbelly is the real work of an actor.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Okay. Now Conrad fromOrdinary People,” Jason said.
Marcus’s expression shifted. “I’m nervous about this one.”
“It’s a beautiful piece,” Jason said. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Jason could sense right away that Marcus was struggling to find the honesty in the piece. It occurred to him that a bookabout grief might be too close to home for a kid who’d lost his mother to a drug overdose. Which, ironically, would make it harder for a teenage boy to perform. The fear of going to such a dark place might outweigh his desire to be an honest actor.
“Okay, it’s good, but we can make it better,” Jason said. “It’s like with Hal. We have to see the real you coming through the character. Tell me this—why did you choose this particular monologue?”
Marcus shrugged. “Mr. Dansen thought it would be a good one for me. That I could relate.”
“And do you?”
“I guess.” Marcus studied his hands.
“Again, like with Hal, you need to dig deep into your own life and experiences. What does the monologue make you think about?”
Marcus took a second to answer. “My mom.”
