Until the next Homicide article, I’ll intro this interesting relic. It’s a book that gives a different angle or insight into the mystery of acting.
It was back in the salad days of December of 2021 when published Death of the Actor. The only book I’ve ever written. It’s a crazy bit of something or other. For years I’d been jotting down notes about the art of acting; trying to figure out why the hell I (we) do it, what its about, and why it seems so important. None of it ever truly made sense, past the purely technical aspects, but, maybe actors aren’t supposed to be sense-makers.
Reminds me of zen koans; endless questions with 1000’s of answers, no answers, and yet only one answer. Back in 2021, (along with a few billion others worldwide) I was thinking about life in a very different way - Covid restrictions, friends and family getting sick, hibernating, musing on the non-duality of things; you know, all that 2021 jazz.
But then, suddenly, it seemed something was dying in ‘me’. And what was dying or collapsing, however bizarre or trite it may sound; was this imaginary actor figure. The acting wasn’t going away - but the one apparently pulling the strings; the middle man, the self, or something - had split. You hear actors sometimes announce, “I’m done with acting,”; but this was like acting saying, “Don’t need ya. Bye.”
Anyway, this book got written from those notes, as a real time exploration of that process. I had a great time writing it and afterwards, editing with the amazing Julie Rumbarger. Learned a lot from her. For anyone who might be moved to read it, be forewarned; you won’t get anything out of this book. Maybe a little relief, like I did, or frustration - like I did. Or, you might think it’s all b.s. (it all is, in a way).
Thanks for your time and attention. Now, back to those Homicide stories…