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Being an Actor
A new edition of the classic book for actors starting their careers, with new material
Few actors have ever been more eloquent, more honest, or more entertaining about their life and their profession than Simon Callow, one of the finest actors of his time and increasingly one of the most admired writers about the theater.
Beginning with the letter to Laurence Olivier that produced his first theatrical job to his triumph as Mozart in the original production of Amadeus, Callow takes us with him on his progress through England’s rich and demanding theater: his training at London’s famed Drama Centre, his grim and glorious apprenticeship in the provincial theater, his breakthrough at the Joint Stock Company, and then success at Olivier’s National Theatre are among the way stations.
Callow provides a guide not only to the actor’s profession but also to the intricacies of his art, from unemployment—“the primeval slime from which all actors emerge and to which, inevitably, they return”—to the last night of a long run.
Few actors have ever been more eloquent, more honest, or more entertaining about their life and their profession than Simon Callow, one of the finest actors of his time and increasingly one of the most admired writers about the theater.
Beginning with the letter to Laurence Olivier that produced his first theatrical job to his triumph as Mozart in the original production of Amadeus, Callow takes us with him on his progress through England’s rich and demanding theater: his training at London’s famed Drama Centre, his grim and glorious apprenticeship in the provincial theater, his breakthrough at the Joint Stock Company, and then success at Olivier’s National Theatre are among the way stations.
Callow provides a guide not only to the actor’s profession but also to the intricacies of his art, from unemployment—“the primeval slime from which all actors emerge and to which, inevitably, they return”—to the last night of a long run.
190 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1984
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February 23, 2020
A handbook for youngsters who want to act for a living. It morphs halfway through into a scathing critique of the once hallowed institution known as British theater— and this has relevance for the wannabe thespian, too. The book is useful because the author is merciless as a critic of his own work and that of his peers.
In Part 1 Simon Callow writes about the nebulous motivations and techniques of acting with startling concreteness. The process is surprisingly rigorous. The trouble he had with the lead role in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus is an excellent example. After much struggle he picks up Otto Deutsch’s Mozart: A Documentary Biography and finds a quote from Mozart’s brother-in-law, Josef Lange.
Particularly vehement are Callow’s arguments against directorial tyranny. John Dexter, for example, would direct every utterance and gesture in such a way that, Callow says, the immense talent of the actors was stifled. Earlier in his career Callow was a member of the Joint Stock Company which used an extraordinary process of actor research and consultation directly with the playwright as a means of creating new works. It’s a leftist approach which empowers the “workers,” but so what? It worked beautifully. Under non-process oriented direction, he says, the actor often feels like a marionette jerked about by incomprehensible directorial whim, and is for this reason unable to inhabit the character. Edward Bond was another such tyrant. He was a dramatist who decided that he would direct all the premiers of his plays himself, despite having “no understanding of the processes of acting.” (p. 131) Yet Simon Callow has had a prolific stage career. How was he able to do it?
Part 2 depicts the stage actor’s life. First we learn about the wretchedness of unemployment and the anxiety of auditions.
These are the Part 2 chapter headings: Unemployment, Getting the Job 1, The Agent, Getting the Job 2, Preparation, First Read Through, Rehearsal 1, Character 1, Rehearsal 2, Character 2, Rehearsal 3, Rehearsal 4, Into the Theater, The Dress Rehearsal, The First Preview, First Night, The Reviews, The Run 1, A Good Performance, A Bad Performance, The Run 2, The Audience, Twenty-four Hours in the Life, The End of the Run, Unemployment Again, Manifesto, Gloomy Postscript. There are also priceless stories from the stage. One is about Callow’s astonishing meeting with Terry Hands of RSC late in the book. Another:
Part 3 was written 30 years after publication of the first two. The author brings us up to date on his mid-career doings, which now include directing, writing the Charles Laughton biography, playing Molina in The Kiss of the Spider Woman—featuring Mark Rylance, a coup de théâtre—and an update on the decay of the British theater.
When I was young the British actors in the films I saw were always the best actors. Alas, there was no British playgoing for me, but I saw many films and the British handily outshone my American compatriots. That doesn’t happen anymore. Under Thatcher Britain stopped subsidizing its theaters and acting schools. This led to the dissolution of the repertory companies. So there was no longer any place where young actors could go to learn as many roles as possible in a relatively short time, say, two years. This magnificent form of on-the-job training was gone. Henceforth stage productions were on an ad hoc basis and such vital communities of young actors kaput.
I’m a writer, not an actor, but I have always marveled at those with this strange skill. A great performance often seems incomprehensible to me in terms of how it’s done. Well, as it turns out, many actors themselves don’t know. There’s a story here about Sir Laurence trying to figure it out. He couldn’t and that incited his pique. But it turns out explaining this nebulous process is one of the things Simon Callow was put on the earth to do. I think particular stretches of phrasing in Part 3 reminiscent of V.S. Naipaul. It is the breadth and specificity of Callow’s commentary that, I think, makes his text useful to anyone who writes or reads passionately.
I’ve ordered his Shooting the Actor which among other things is about a failed film project in Eastern Europe, and his roles in films like A Room with a View and Four Weddings and a Funeral.
I floundered about with this profoundly difficult play (Jean Cocteau’s The Infernal Machine) knowing what was required but having only the vaguest idea of how to achieve it.” (p. 267)
In Part 1 Simon Callow writes about the nebulous motivations and techniques of acting with startling concreteness. The process is surprisingly rigorous. The trouble he had with the lead role in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus is an excellent example. After much struggle he picks up Otto Deutsch’s Mozart: A Documentary Biography and finds a quote from Mozart’s brother-in-law, Josef Lange.
’Never was Mozart less recognizably a great man in his conversation and actions than when he was busy with a great work. At such times he spoke confusedly and disconnectedly… he did not appear to be brooding and thinking about anything… either he intentionally concealed his inner tension behind superficial frivolity, for reasons which could not be fathomed, or he took delight in throwing into sharp contrast the divine ideas of his music and these sudden outbursts of vulgar platitudes, and in giving himself pleasure by seeming to make fun of himself. I can understand that so exalted an artist can, out of a deep veneration for his Art, belittle and as it were expose to ridicule his own personality.’
The moment I saw this Mozart, Shaffer’s text fell into place. Every word, every gesture that he had written was consonant with the man. They simply needed a framework of character to unify them. Once I had found that, the playing style of the piece came easily. Psychological realism was out of the question in view of the kaleidoscopic sequence of scenes. Something akin to revue technique was called for, the capacity to start a scene bang in the middle of it, and to wipe it away as soon as it was finished in order to make room for the quite different emotions of the next. Shaffer’s is a theater of gesture. The whole body, the mask of the face, ways of speaking, external details are all of the essence of Peter’s work. The wig, the giggle, the little hop, and so on. (p. 115) (Emphasis mine.)
Particularly vehement are Callow’s arguments against directorial tyranny. John Dexter, for example, would direct every utterance and gesture in such a way that, Callow says, the immense talent of the actors was stifled. Earlier in his career Callow was a member of the Joint Stock Company which used an extraordinary process of actor research and consultation directly with the playwright as a means of creating new works. It’s a leftist approach which empowers the “workers,” but so what? It worked beautifully. Under non-process oriented direction, he says, the actor often feels like a marionette jerked about by incomprehensible directorial whim, and is for this reason unable to inhabit the character. Edward Bond was another such tyrant. He was a dramatist who decided that he would direct all the premiers of his plays himself, despite having “no understanding of the processes of acting.” (p. 131) Yet Simon Callow has had a prolific stage career. How was he able to do it?
Part 2 depicts the stage actor’s life. First we learn about the wretchedness of unemployment and the anxiety of auditions.
When this is over, the director (if, please God, he’s not on stage with you but in the stalls) will shout out: ‘Very interesting, thank you.’ Dread word, ‘interesting.’ . . . He’ll then clamber up onto the stage, put his arm around your shoulder and say, ‘Mmm. I’d like to try that again, if you don’t mind, like to have another little go at it.’ ‘Yes, yes,” you interject, passionately, ‘it was terrible.’ ‘No, it wasn’t terrible at all—I’d just like to see a little more vulnerability. [Or majesty, or fun, but it’s usually vulnerability. Hilarious that in this firing-squad situation, that’s the one thing you cannot produce at any cost.] OK?’ And off you go again, and it’s always better, and it’s always worse. So, baffled, you shake hands amid unreal checkings of your agent’s phone number, and your immediate whereabouts. As you leave the auditorium, action-replaying the whole episode, examining the director’s every inflection, you pass an actor on his way in and you know immediately that he’s going to get the job. (p. 147)
These are the Part 2 chapter headings: Unemployment, Getting the Job 1, The Agent, Getting the Job 2, Preparation, First Read Through, Rehearsal 1, Character 1, Rehearsal 2, Character 2, Rehearsal 3, Rehearsal 4, Into the Theater, The Dress Rehearsal, The First Preview, First Night, The Reviews, The Run 1, A Good Performance, A Bad Performance, The Run 2, The Audience, Twenty-four Hours in the Life, The End of the Run, Unemployment Again, Manifesto, Gloomy Postscript. There are also priceless stories from the stage. One is about Callow’s astonishing meeting with Terry Hands of RSC late in the book. Another:
I recall a radio program where Sir John Gielgud and Sir Ralph Richardson were interviewed. ‘Tell me, Sir John and Sir Ralph, do you ever give each other notes?’ There was an appalled silence, broken by Richardson. ‘Good - God - no!’ he cried, while Sir John cooed negatives in the background. ‘I can’t abide notes,’ declared Sir Ralph, ‘especially from a director. My idea of a director is a chap who puts me in the middle of the stage, and shines a bright light on me.’ (p. 175)
Part 3 was written 30 years after publication of the first two. The author brings us up to date on his mid-career doings, which now include directing, writing the Charles Laughton biography, playing Molina in The Kiss of the Spider Woman—featuring Mark Rylance, a coup de théâtre—and an update on the decay of the British theater.
When I was young the British actors in the films I saw were always the best actors. Alas, there was no British playgoing for me, but I saw many films and the British handily outshone my American compatriots. That doesn’t happen anymore. Under Thatcher Britain stopped subsidizing its theaters and acting schools. This led to the dissolution of the repertory companies. So there was no longer any place where young actors could go to learn as many roles as possible in a relatively short time, say, two years. This magnificent form of on-the-job training was gone. Henceforth stage productions were on an ad hoc basis and such vital communities of young actors kaput.
I’m a writer, not an actor, but I have always marveled at those with this strange skill. A great performance often seems incomprehensible to me in terms of how it’s done. Well, as it turns out, many actors themselves don’t know. There’s a story here about Sir Laurence trying to figure it out. He couldn’t and that incited his pique. But it turns out explaining this nebulous process is one of the things Simon Callow was put on the earth to do. I think particular stretches of phrasing in Part 3 reminiscent of V.S. Naipaul. It is the breadth and specificity of Callow’s commentary that, I think, makes his text useful to anyone who writes or reads passionately.
I’ve ordered his Shooting the Actor which among other things is about a failed film project in Eastern Europe, and his roles in films like A Room with a View and Four Weddings and a Funeral.
December 4, 2013
The first time I read this book was back in 1983, the year of my graduation. I read with mounting frustration and envy; 'Why him?!' Thirty years on, the youthful ambition of a new actor has more or less evaporated, replaced with a modulated enjoyment of the craft. Callow's book is quite excellent. The original text remains unchanged and give a generous, personal account of his beginnings as an actor. The new material presents some close technical analysis of roles, plays, and the state of the profession. His prose is at once compact and eloquent, and what emerges is his love of theatre and dedication to it.
June 18, 2018
I took a detour (from Anthony Sher's book on playing Lear) to read this lengthier-than-expected "look behind the stage curtains" by Simon Callow. I liked it very much, especially his honesty about how vulnerable it is to live as actors do. Frequently unemployed, for one thing, of which he says, "That’s the hardest: acclaim being followed by unemployment. One feels like a puppy, picked up and fussed over until a new diversion occurs, at which one is summarily dropped back on to the floor... it has a horrible effect on one’s psyche."
I found the author engaging to read, often amusing, and very insightful about the value of theatre in the first place. He considers it a 50-50 collaboration with the audience to generate a whole new opportunity to consider matters that matter, saying, "Into the auditorium they stream, battered, dislocated, alienated, unhuman -- feeling the loss of their humanity, the erosion of their human parts. Our job is to restore them, to massage or tease or slap the sleeping parts into life again. Above all we address ourselves to the deadened organ, the imagination.... In this sense, every actor has signed an unwritten hippocratic oath."
I agree, and I think Callow's concept applies to all performing arts. There is something healing and nourishing about the communal campfire-type experience, something he describes as "ancient and new at the same time, which is potentially life-changing but which also reminds us of who and what we are, which binds a group of human beings together for the duration of the evening or afternoon to remind them of the sense of community otherwise dead or forgotten, which massages the tired imagination back to life and celebrates human possibilities in the living shapes of the actors themselves."
See why I liked this book?
I found the author engaging to read, often amusing, and very insightful about the value of theatre in the first place. He considers it a 50-50 collaboration with the audience to generate a whole new opportunity to consider matters that matter, saying, "Into the auditorium they stream, battered, dislocated, alienated, unhuman -- feeling the loss of their humanity, the erosion of their human parts. Our job is to restore them, to massage or tease or slap the sleeping parts into life again. Above all we address ourselves to the deadened organ, the imagination.... In this sense, every actor has signed an unwritten hippocratic oath."
I agree, and I think Callow's concept applies to all performing arts. There is something healing and nourishing about the communal campfire-type experience, something he describes as "ancient and new at the same time, which is potentially life-changing but which also reminds us of who and what we are, which binds a group of human beings together for the duration of the evening or afternoon to remind them of the sense of community otherwise dead or forgotten, which massages the tired imagination back to life and celebrates human possibilities in the living shapes of the actors themselves."
See why I liked this book?
March 2, 2025
Simon Callow ist ein britischer Schauspieler, der mir vor allem durch seine Rolle als Gareth in dem Film "Vier Hochzeiten und ein Todesfall" bekannt ist. Neben den zahlreichen Rollen in Kino- und Fernsehfilmen spielt Callow hauptsächlich am Theater. Von seiner Zeit am Theater handelt auch seine Autobiografie.
Ich wundere mich immer, wenn jemand in jungen Jahren seine Autobiografie schreibt. Nicht anders ging es mir bei Simon Callow, der diese Biografie mit 36 Jahren geschrieben hat. Zumindest die ersten beiden Teile, den dritten hat er gute zehn Jahre später geschrieben. Diesen Zeitunterschied merkt man der Biografie auch an. Im dritten Teil ist viel von dem Überschwang und der Arroganz, die ich in den ersten beiden Teilen bemerkt habe, verloren gegangen.
Ich bin bei dem Buch zweigeteilt in meiner Meinung. Simon Callow beschreibt seine Anfänge als Schauspieler sehr bildhaft und spart nicht mit Selbstironie. Aber so gut er auch erzählen kann: was er zu erzählen hat, ist sehr banal. Vielleicht liegt es daran, dass die Arbeit am Theater eben nicht nur die glanzvolle Vorstellung ist, die der Besucher sieht sondern eben auch viel harte und langweilige Arbeit. Aber auch das könnte man in einem Buch meiner Meinung nach interessanter machen.
Trotzdem halte ich Simon Callow für einen sehr interessanten Mann, nach dessen Werken ich öfter Ausschau halten werde.
Ich wundere mich immer, wenn jemand in jungen Jahren seine Autobiografie schreibt. Nicht anders ging es mir bei Simon Callow, der diese Biografie mit 36 Jahren geschrieben hat. Zumindest die ersten beiden Teile, den dritten hat er gute zehn Jahre später geschrieben. Diesen Zeitunterschied merkt man der Biografie auch an. Im dritten Teil ist viel von dem Überschwang und der Arroganz, die ich in den ersten beiden Teilen bemerkt habe, verloren gegangen.
Ich bin bei dem Buch zweigeteilt in meiner Meinung. Simon Callow beschreibt seine Anfänge als Schauspieler sehr bildhaft und spart nicht mit Selbstironie. Aber so gut er auch erzählen kann: was er zu erzählen hat, ist sehr banal. Vielleicht liegt es daran, dass die Arbeit am Theater eben nicht nur die glanzvolle Vorstellung ist, die der Besucher sieht sondern eben auch viel harte und langweilige Arbeit. Aber auch das könnte man in einem Buch meiner Meinung nach interessanter machen.
Trotzdem halte ich Simon Callow für einen sehr interessanten Mann, nach dessen Werken ich öfter Ausschau halten werde.
December 21, 2024
This one was a slog to finish. I learned a huge amount about the processes and preparation that goes into theatre performances, and I enjoyed hearing about the different reactions of audiences across the world. Interesting, too, was Simon Callow's view on the tyranny of directors.
The book is imbued with SC's passion for acting and his lifelong pursuit of a true performance, but unless you can really appreciate someone going on and on for several hundred pages about whether, as an actor, you are a character, or the character is you, or how you achieve an enlightened state of becoming someone else, this is probably not the book for you.
The book is imbued with SC's passion for acting and his lifelong pursuit of a true performance, but unless you can really appreciate someone going on and on for several hundred pages about whether, as an actor, you are a character, or the character is you, or how you achieve an enlightened state of becoming someone else, this is probably not the book for you.
April 25, 2022
Callow is erudite, thoughtful, somewhat self-deprecating, and generous to his fellow actors. This book provides remarkable insight into the process of acting itself, the trials and tribulations of collaboration, and the changing nature of theatre over a life lived richly and relatively successfully.
January 5, 2017
Perhaps the best book on acting, rather on preparing for acting, that I have come across. Precise in detailing approaches to various roles. When failed, no self pitying; when succeeded, no gloating. I liked his simple narration...
July 18, 2023
More suited to someone who knows a lot more about theater than I do. I found myself skimming at times.
July 16, 2021
It’s divided into three sections: the first decade or so of his acting life, the ‘life’ of an actor, as he sees it (there’s some very good practical stuff here) and an updating (which only appears in the new edition) of what’s happened to him since he wrote the book back in the nineties (I think it was – must check my facts). Throughout the book he has some good insights into what an actor must go through to play a role, and of course, he had a marvellous run of juicy roles up to the time the book was written (and no doubt there were many more after that) – and often his views differ from other actors’ views. He never underestimates the sheer difficulties of playing a role, especially the more complex ones, and never understates the nerves and stresses and awfulness of first rehearsals, and working with single-minded directors, and playing to less than half-full houses, and suddenly finding yourself ‘resting’ (a term he obviously deplores) and trying to get a play off the ground – or waiting around when someone else is apparently trying to do so.
Even as simple a thing as discussing memorising a role is worth reading, even though he doesn’t spend more than a page or two on this. He lays no claim to being able to learn quickly: it’s line upon line, starting at the first and going onto the second and then the third, and so on. But he does say that he likes to have the lines under his belt by the time of the first full rehearsal, so that he can then concentrate on the ‘doing’ of the thing, even though at that point he’s likely to forget half the lines for the moment. For him the rehearsal period is a further finding out of the character, and sometimes this doesn’t happen until late in the rehearsal period for him, especially where the character is difficult to grasp. Furthermore he finds that the movement helps to remembering the lines and vice versa.
Even as simple a thing as discussing memorising a role is worth reading, even though he doesn’t spend more than a page or two on this. He lays no claim to being able to learn quickly: it’s line upon line, starting at the first and going onto the second and then the third, and so on. But he does say that he likes to have the lines under his belt by the time of the first full rehearsal, so that he can then concentrate on the ‘doing’ of the thing, even though at that point he’s likely to forget half the lines for the moment. For him the rehearsal period is a further finding out of the character, and sometimes this doesn’t happen until late in the rehearsal period for him, especially where the character is difficult to grasp. Furthermore he finds that the movement helps to remembering the lines and vice versa.
January 4, 2014
This book is great when he's explaining the chronology of auditioning and rehearsing a play up through opening night, the run, and closing night. If you're an actor, you learn a bit about some obscure British theatre practices, but mostly you just sit there thinking "Yes! It is just like that!" Which makes me think that this is a book for people who aren't actors to find out what being an actor is like. The whole book is worth the First Rehearsal chapter. There's a theatre company I work for who made it a practice to read this chapter on the first rehearsal of every play. It's so great. Callow then wrote an afterword-type thing years and years after the first part of the book which I enjoyed less. He seemed pretty bitter and had quite a bit of opinions about how theatre companies are run and had a lot of differences of opinion with directors, so he became a director himself. Reading this addition, it is clear he has become a director who once was an actor and also a bit of a celebrity, so perhaps that belongs in a different book: Being a Director who once was an actor and is now a Celebrity and has worked with a bunch of Directors along the way that He didn't like so that has Shaped how He now Directs. A bulky title. But there's a nice lesson for directors in there. Actors are not your puppets to move around and do exactly as you say. They have brains and can be equal collaborators. Often, if you force an actor into your rigid sense of vision, it has the effect of shutting them down creatively and the production will suffer for it.
Read
August 24, 2011A new author! I have known his acting work for a while (through movies and the BBC), but did not know about his writing until I was given this book for my birthday. Although much of the book is thoughtful and interesting, it is also very funny in a wry, British way. I was sitting at the kitchen table laughing out loud, thoroughly enjoying myself as I read my way through his life as a youthful, idealistic, hedonistic and headstrong young actor. I am glad that although he added an essay or two in this reprint edition, he allowed his youthful voice to remain unchanged, showing his true maturity.
And the brief glimpse of Alan Bennett (one of my favorite authors), refusing champagne and cycling off into the night after a successful debut of his theater show... priceless.
And the brief glimpse of Alan Bennett (one of my favorite authors), refusing champagne and cycling off into the night after a successful debut of his theater show... priceless.
June 21, 2008
I underlined and quoted from this book like ca-razy while reading it. His insight into the process of making theatre, discovering who one is as an actor, building a role, finding out--above and beyond being an actor--what kind of artist one is, and trying to survive the lonliness/unemployment and requisite self-doubt that comes along with the job are totally incredible. His stories from the 70's hey-day of fringe-y theatre are super great (I love how obsessive the Brits are about their theeeeeatre, and how this always seems to lead back to Lawrence Olivier) and for anyone who needs a little artistic pick-me-up/it's all worth it/keep on a'trucking kind of read, I highly recommend it.
September 12, 2010
In the land of blind, Simon Callow is a one-eyed king. No autobiography, nor memoir, nor acting journal has ever reached the pathos and technical insight this book offers into an industry/medium/art which purposefully obfuscates its merits. Strangely, the more Callow lays himself bare and becomes emotionally naked and individual, the more accessible he is as a conduit for any struggling, beginner, or professional actor.
June 7, 2021
Fantastic book. I finished one version, and promptly bought the updated version. But then never got to read the extended second edition. I'm finally changing the status to read, since technically I did finish the 1st edition.
March 13, 2009
The section on acting was entertaining and informative. The biographical section left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
May 31, 2010
This book meant so much to me at the time I read it, seemingly on the cusp of being a real working actor.
July 29, 2012
A great book on being an actor and trying to find and do good work.
March 9, 2024
Looking forward to reading the updated edition released more recently.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews