Listening is not just about the words another character is saying. It is about listening to the underlying message. The moments when they say nothing at all. Their physicality, breath, and timing. An actor’s listening will dramatically change the way you respond. You will appear more spontaneous, more emotional, and more authentic. It is listening that will make you appear to be in the moment, to be present. Actors who truly listen will provide you with the most memorable moments. It is listening that will provide you with a full rich performance.
To listen, you need to stop the words in your mind, your line, your thinking about what you’re going to do next. Actors need to listen to hear the other person and not have an agenda. It makes you available for anything, even if it’s wrong. It leaves you open to anything — including being hurt or touched in some way that you weren’t planning on in your choices. Through impro work or working with a partner, actors learn to wait and listen for the other person. The other person can make you do anything. A gasp, a look, a tiny pause — that’s what actors use to start to feel. And eventually you feel secure about doing that because you know it will be the truth.
Perhaps the most far-reaching aspect of extraordinary listening is how it affects every level of the work. In scenes with other actors, it allows them to tune into each other and build a relationship, which in turn creates a strong rhythm and flow. I have heard many directors comment on how their best scenes are not a result of amazing acting choices, but rather a result of actors truly listening to each other. This is what happens in real-life conversations—miscommunications and discoveries and apologies occur because people are listening to each other, not reciting speeches to each other. For the observer, the emotional result of this listening creates a palpable energy in the room, often causing the observer to feel somehow connected to what is happening onstage. If the listening is bad, the work will feel stagnant; if the listening is good, it will feel like a holy event.
In addition to listening helping to create specific acting results in specific plays, I have found that an emphasis on listening affects the way actors approach the work in general. It is a way of humbling the work, of recognizing the inherent value of what you can only learn from another person, in the moment, during a performance. It promotes a curiosity about other people that will never go away. It makes you more responsive during auditions, rehearsals, and the production process. You’re more likely to be flexible, since you’re actually hearing what is happening. It prevents the dangerous isolation that can result from the practice of self-inspection. And it allows for a release of your inner world, because the most productive access to your inner world is often triggered by your outer world.
Finally, listening is what transforms acting from a merely personal into a shared process. It acknowledges the inherent mutuality of movie and playmaking, in which truth is found not in a single person but in an orchestration of multiple people. When actors embrace this discipline they become part of performances that feel raw, real, and immediate. They bring to every person present – actor, technician, and observer alike – a sense of the importance of mutual attention. In an age of constant distraction, the actor who can listen becomes a rare and precious commodity. It is a gift not only to oneself and one’s work, but to everyone around, and it is the means whereby the actor can revive the transformative blessing of being deeply understood.