The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood! Chapter 13

On a rather unusual Monday, May 3rd, 1999, right after his shift at Red Penguin Services ended, Matthew hailed a taxi and arrived at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts in North Hollywood just before 9 a.m. Today was the first day of the acting class he had enrolled in.

When he reached the studio assigned for the class, Matthew pushed the door open and stepped inside. Since he had come straight from work, he was a little late, and the spacious studio already held over a dozen students.

The room was bare of desks or chairs, and a massive mirror was fixed to the wall directly opposite the door.

As he walked over to the group, Matthew scanned the room and vaguely recognized a few faces. He couldn't quite place them, but he suspected they might be actors from some Hollywood film he'd seen.

If they looked familiar, they must have appeared in a blockbuster of some kind. Matthew wondered if this was the right place to start building his network. A web of connections, after all, was woven one thread at a time.

Some of them cast curious glances his way, but seeing that he was a stranger, they quickly looked away.

There was an art to greeting strangers, and coming on too strong was a bad idea, so Matthew held back from starting a conversation.

At the front of the room stood a man with a strikingly bald head. He appeared to be in his fifties, and he carried himself with a poised, respectable air.

"Ahem," the bald man cleared his throat to draw everyone's attention, a faint smile touching his lips. "Good morning."

Sure enough, the bald man introduced himself. "My name is David Astor. I'll be one of your instructors."

"I'd love to get to know all of you, but there's no rush on that. I've prepared a special session to meet you individually," David Astor said, wasting no time on small talk and getting straight to the point. "You're here to learn how to act or to improve your acting skills. You have only six months to do it, and I promise not to waste your time with empty words."

He took a few steps forward, stopping about four meters from the group. "I didn't go to a professional school like USC or CalArts. I'm not an academic, and as far as I know, neither are you. I'm just a working actor struggling in the film industry, same as you, but I have thirty years more real-world acting experience than all of you combined."

Hearing that he wasn't an academic, Matthew felt he had come to the right place. He figured a guy with his background would have a tough time learning from a scholar. It was far better to be taught by someone who had also clawed his way up from the bottom.

David Astor continued, "I'm happy to share what I know. Most of the techniques and experience I've gained came from honing my craft and learning from actual acting jobs. Many of the skills veteran actors possess don't come from a school. Beyond the fundamentals, becoming a successful actor is about accumulating experience and learning from it yourself."

Most of the students were listening intently. Anyone who had fought their way here undoubtedly dreamed of stardom.

"If anyone tells you there are objective criteria for judging good and bad acting," David Astor declared, his perspective clearly unconventional, "ignore them. They're talking nonsense. Evaluating a performance is simply a matter of personal taste. Of course, when we judge someone's acting, there's a baseline of understanding. That's why people generally agree that Dustin Hoffman is a great actor."

David Astor suddenly clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough talk. Let's get to the practical work."

His eyes swept over their faces. "There are fourteen of you. For now, split into pairs, come up, introduce yourselves, and then perform a simple scene based on the script I'll provide. Show me what you've got."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Matthew turned to the girl standing next to him. "Hi, want to be partners?"

The girl glanced at Matthew. He offered a sunny smile, the kind that easily made a good impression.

"Sure," the girl nodded slightly.

There was no deep strategy to choosing a temporary partner; most people, like Matthew, simply picked someone standing nearby.

Seeing that she hadn't refused, Matthew said politely, "I'm Matthew Horner, from Texas."

The girl smiled back. "Rachel McAdams. I'm Canadian."

She had somewhat sharp features, but when she smiled, a pair of charming dimples appeared. She wasn't strikingly beautiful, but her smile was remarkably calming.

The fourteen students quickly formed seven groups. David Astor handed out two copies of a script to each pair, giving them just five minutes to read and discuss it before calling up the first pair, two men in their early twenties, to perform for him.

"Begin," David Astor commanded. The two actors introduced themselves and started a very simple dialogue scene.

"What were you doing last night?" the short-haired actor began, standing perfectly still. "Why didn't you answer when I called?"

Across from him, the long-haired actor threw his hands up with a heavy look. "My wife wouldn't let me take the call. I couldn't get out."

The short-haired actor remained motionless, his expression barely changing. "I waited for you all night at the bar."

"I know," the man said, looking utterly dejected. "My wife said she'd break my legs if I went out drinking with you again."

The simple, demonstrative conversation soon ended. Matthew watched the two men, then asked the girl beside him in a low voice, "Which one do you think did a better job?"

"The one with long hair," Rachel McAdams answered casually.

Matthew found himself agreeing. "I think so, too."

Though he was no expert, he could clearly tell that the long-haired actor's performance was slightly better than his partner's, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

"That was bad," David Astor said, walking up to the two men. "And boring."

He started with the short-haired actor. "Dialogue is about more than just your mouth—it's also about body language." As he spoke, he made an exaggerated face. "You're just standing there, barely moving, not even making small gestures. You're staring right at his mouth. It's boring."

Hearing David Astor's words, it dawned on Matthew: the short-haired actor had been completely static from beginning to end, his expression never changing. That's why his performance was weaker.

David Astor turned to the long-haired actor. "You have more energy than he does, and I can see some showmanship in you, a desire to express yourself. That's good. Keep it up."

"You'll find a lot of open dialogue scenes like this in films. It looks simple, but it's not easy to make a normal conversation compelling. At the very least, you have to keep the audience from getting bored watching characters just talk," David Astor's expression shifted as he addressed the whole class. "When you're speaking, practice using body language—a glance upward, a furrowed brow, a pursed mouth, hands that don't know where to go. Never be monotonous. Use your body to convey the atmosphere and the character's inner state, whether you're a lead or just have a line or two."

Matthew committed those words to memory.

After watching just one performance, he understood that David Astor was not from the academic world. He focused on practical, real-world acting techniques, a far cry from the books Matthew had been reading, which were filled with lengthy theories about naturalism, expressionism, experimentalism, method acting, and so on.

This was an accelerated acting course with limited class time. For students who hadn't been formally trained, especially those who weren't as educated as him, abstract theories were far less effective than this kind of hands-on instruction.

If he had launched into a lecture on acting theory, it would have gone over everyone's heads, and Matthew was sure his own head would be spinning in no time.

The next actor and actress on stage had no lines for their scene. David Astor asked them to play a brother and sister who had just learned their other sister had been murdered.

The moment David Astor called for them to begin, the actress stood frozen, her face a mask of anguish, crying out to God as she wept.

She cried as if her sister had truly died.

The male actor, on the other hand, looked somewhat disbelieving. Then his expression turned to sorrow, his face and mouth twitching slightly. His head movements were monotonous, yet there was something indescribably sad about his performance.

David Astor stepped forward to comment. "You both did well, exceeding my expectations. But I rated your performance higher, young man."

Matthew couldn't help but scratch his head. Common sense suggested the actress had given the more realistic performance.

"First of all, I want to remind you that this is a performance, and a performance must serve the play, the episode, or the film," David Astor explained. "When it comes to scenes like this, unless you're specifically asked to, don't show your grief by crying too early. It doesn't give the audience a 'core' to connect with. You have to do something to build the atmosphere for the viewers."

He looked at the actor and said, "First, hint at your sorrow. Then, you can pair it with words, or make a helpless, disbelieving, tearful face. Show your full grief only at the end, but reveal different shades of it depending on the story's needs."

"Alright," he waved a hand. "Let's move on."

The pair of actors stepped back, and another pair stepped forward. After a short while, it was Matthew's turn.