Studio Note: What Happens Off-Camera

I had a short script in my bag I wasn’t really thinking about — one I’d stuffed in on the way out the door that morning. It was a day I hadn’t planned anything — no deadlines, no pressure. I took the long way to the park on purpose. It was summer, a very warm day in London. I had a few errands planned and a stop at the park, where I meant to read through the script once again.

The kind of afternoon that feels like it won’t leave a mark, but does.

It wasn’t a major part. Not a big emotional arc. But there was a moment — a shift in the character — that stayed with me longer than I expected. She notices something through a window. The way it’s written, it could be played a dozen different ways. Or not played at all. Just… seen.

I like that kind of space. The kind that trusts the actor to find it without spelling it out.

A lot of what I’m drawn to in acting — and in drawing, too — is what isn’t directly shown. The tone, the tension, the detail sitting just off to the side of what the scene thinks it’s doing.

You start to recognize it after a while. A line where the subtext is louder than the dialogue. A gesture that means more than what’s being said. A glance written into the script, or better yet, not written in at all.

Those are the roles that sit with you. Even the small ones.Especially the small ones, sometimes.

I don’t need the character to have a dramatic breakdown or a lengthy backstory. I just need a reason to care. Something about the way they move through the world — or hesitate to. A decision they almost made. A crack in the mask.

Uta Hagen used to talk about knowing where a character is coming from — literally — and where they’re going when they exit the scene. That’s always stuck with me. Even if the audience never sees that part, I still need to know it.

It’s the same with sketching. You don’t always need to finish the outline. The suggestion of a thing often tells more truth than the shape itself.

We’d be filming the short project soon — my part just a few pages — but still, it felt like something worth showing up for.

It reminded me of why I keep doing this. How even one small moment — one line, one glance — can hold something true.Something that makes you want to lean in.To figure out where that person came from. Why do they speak the way they do? (I’ve written about the voice thing here, if that’s your kind of rabbit hole.) And where they’re headed, once the scene cuts away.

Just after everything was said.

Curious about the craft of acting? I’ve written a longer piece here about how self-taping has shaped the way I work, including the quiet parts, the practical tools, and what helps when the camera starts rolling.