T(r)oy's Marbles

When creating a role, there are two ways to build a character. The first way is from the inside out. The second way is from the outside in.

In the first instance, the actor focuses his or her attention inward, allowing the outward manifestation of their emotive life to take care of itself, so to speak. This type of actor prefers to leave particular gesture and movement to its own devices. They do not think in great detail about how they are “coming across” because they trust that their interior life will exhibit itself naturally, unselfconsciously. In building a role this way, they are convinced their character will appear more life-like, since, in real life, all “normal” actions are instinctual, lacking self-consciousness. This is the inside-out approach.

But there is another method many actors use in building their character. It is the outside-in approach. This approach is based on the idea that emotion often arises from external stimuli.

Try this experiment: sit in a chair for 5 minutes with good posture. Then, change your posture and begin slouching. Maintain this posture for a time and you will begin to notice, though it may be slight, a difference in your mood.

So, an actor using this approach to build a character will focus their attention outward (not inward), concentrating on the simple execution of specific physical gestures, postures, actions (or even on truthful objects outside themselves—such as a table or a cup of coffee, neither of which have the capacity to lie). And, believe it or not, it works. Why else do you think the simple action of petting a puppy can cheer one’s mood? Or, have you ever taken note that even changing one’s clothes affects one’s mental state? This is the outside-in dynamic.

Writers often experience this, too. My friend Mary DeMuth has spoken in the past about the role her writing space plays in her ability to write (and, by extension, the quality of her writing). External circumstances evoke moods. They have the power to change emotion. (I can’t tell you how many times people have commented on the deep red wall we painted on one side of our living room. Visually, it affects you, makes you feel something, even.)

What am I getting at?

In the film Quiz Show there is a curious little dialogue that refers to what I’m driving at. I’ve often wondered if the scene was stuck into the script on a whim—as “filler”, so to speak—because it doesn’t have any direct connection to the movie’s plot. But it does touch on the movie’s theme: Quiz Show is about integrity, the correspondence between what is real and what is portrayed. The film is about a quiz show scandal in which it was discovered that the contestants were provided the answers prior to air time each week. This was a scandal because the premise of the quiz show rested on the notion that the questions and answers were placed each week in a secure vault, only to be removed in time for the weekly TV slot.

With that backdrop in mind, there is a scene in Quiz Show in which we see the father of one of the cheating participants at the end of one of his college classes. He’s discussing the book Don Quixote with a student and the student is trying to make sense of the book’s message. Frustrated, the student says that he doesn’t understand what the author is getting at.

The student says something like: “It doesn’t make any sense. I just don’t understand. Is he a knight or isn’t he? What does it mean?”

At this point, the professor says: “It means: if you want to be a knight, act like a knight.” And, with that, the discussion is over (and the screenwriter then returns to the immediate plot).

He’s right, of course. “If you want to be a knight, act like one.” That’s because there is a relationship between who we are and what we do. In some instances, what we do follows instinctually from who we are. This is the inside-out dynamic to character (and its manifestation in behavior).

But, in other instances, our soul grows or shrinks as a consequence of what we do. In other words, action also shapes identity. In some instances, “being” is shaped by “doing.”

So…where does this leave us? I started out our exploration of this issue by stating, “What you do proceeds from who you are; being precedes doing.” But now I seem to be saying the opposite! How can this be? Well, that’s part of the mystery, isn’t it?

Perhaps the only thing, then, that we can say for certain is that there is a connection between being and doing, whether we like it or not. My conviction is that it’s preferable to employ an inside out approach, allowing our spirit and soul to determine what we do. But, what if, upon looking deeply into our own heart, we discover that what’s in there is…well…let’s just say “less-than-noble”? What then? Should one just say, “Oh well. I am who I am. Just a depraved reprobate. May as well leave my body to its own devices, then.” In that instance, I would say, “No, there is an alternative. You can still act like a knight. After all, ‘if you want to be a knight, act like one.’”

Practically speaking, here’s how this looks: one morning last week I came home from walking the kids to school with every intention of spending some focused time with just “me and God.” Typically, I do this through prayer and reading the Bible, but at times I will also include singing praise songs to God during this time. At any rate, that particular morning I found that, as soon as I set foot in my apartment I no longer felt like “spending time with God.” On the contrary, I felt more like “emailing, calling, writing, organizing, etc.”

Notice: this is how I felt. At that point, my will kicked into gear. The nice thing about this part of your interior make-up is that, in the words of Corrie ten Boom, “the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.” In other words, I can will to spend time with God even though I may not feel like it.

This, by the way, explains the nature of love. There are many days when I do not feel “love” towards my wife, and nor do I feel like “loving” her. But “love” is not a feeling. It is a choice. We can love others even though we may not feel like it.

At this point, let it be noted: there is some discussion as to what makes a human “human”. There are at least three possibilities:

1. We are just a collection of molecules. One scientist says that we possess no soul, no “elixir of life”, that we are just a conglomeration of cells, “working together in…mindless, fixed ways, that the physics of their constituent particles dictates.”

Fortunately, this is a minority opinion. Fortunately, most people acknowledge that…

2. We are composed of both body and soul. There is both a tangible and an intangible side to human nature. This view parallels the “being” and “doing” dynamic we’ve noted. This also accounts for the range of human emotion. But, in my opinion, it is lacking in another dimension…

3. Some believe we consist of three dimensions: body, soul and spirit. Personally, I share this view, because it explains certain realities, without which, we find it difficult to understand. One of these realities pertains to the dynamic of the will. The notion of a “will” explains the idea that there is a place in our humanity out of which we can override the natural inclinations of our emotion, and even thought. This view of human nature also explains how one can be dead even while physically still alive.

Think of it this way: the life of the body is the soul. Therefore, a body without a soul is a dead body. But there is more: the life of the soul is the spirit. As the spirit dies, so does the soul. I’m convinced we’ve all seen this before. Have you ever met someone who you would describe as dead, even though they were physically breathing and even talking to you? In such a person, there’s either a deadness of emotion or, in some instances, a deadness of thought. This happens because of the state of the spirit.

Now: let’s bring this all full circle. We’re talking about “being” and “doing”. And I posed the scenario that asks: What should one do should one find that one does not feel like acting a certain way?

The answer: engage your will. See, there is a deeper part of you than the life of emotion and mind, which your soul contains. It is the realm of the spirit. And your will is seated there. And your will is able to tell your soul what to think or feel. Why else do you think the Psalmist says, “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”

Here, we see that the soul’s condition may be downcast, but our spirit can tell our soul what to do, and, consequently what our body should do. In this instance, the Psalmist’s spirit tells his soul to hope and his body to praise.

Now: here’s what happens. When our body starts to praise, out of obedience to our will (or rather, God’s will at work within our spirit), it often affects our emotion. And, if you doubt this, just listen to the rest of my story:

You’ll recall that, the other day, I walked home from school with every intention of “spending time with God” but, as soon as I set foot in our apartment “I didn’t feel like it.” So, what did I do? My spirit told my body what to do: “spend time with God.” And, I started doing it, plain and simple. At that point, I still didn’t “feel” any different, but, as I stuck with the process, my feelings did, in fact, change! Before long, I truly felt moved and I became aware of God’s presence.

Of course, one could account for this in purely psychological terms. Personally, I take it on faith that the whole process started because of God’s Spirit enabling my spirit to choose praise and “rest” over worry and work.

Look at it another way: sometimes my daughter Meaghan will say, “But I don’t feel like loving so-and-so! I don’t know how to be nice to them!” (She has literally said this, by the way. I’m not joking.) At that point, Mom and I will respond to her with: “Then you need to ask God to help you love them.” Now: what’s most interesting about this story is: she will. Ask God, I mean. And, guess what? God helps her! His spirit enables her spirit to will good to another, regardless of her feelings. Again, this could be explained without mixing “God” into the recipe, of course. For me, I believe it’s real.

In either case, our actions should proceed from our inner selves “which are being renewed”, but, in the event that we don’t feel very “new” we can still act as though we are new. And, in doing as such, we, in some strange way, become newer.

That’s all for now. Tomorrow, I’ll shift gears and we’ll pick up a new dimension as concerns “being and doing.” It’s the idea of “identity and vocation.”

Until then,
Troy.

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