Professionalism Is Part of Your Craft

Talent is not enough. It is actually low on the importance scale. 

Actors don't always like hearing that because talent feels important. It is the thing we associate most closely with artistic potential, and of course, talent matters. But this profession is filled with talented people who never work. It’s also filled with untalented people who work all the time because they bust their ass and are excellent collaborators. This trumps talent all of the time.

Over the course of a career, what separates the actor who continues to work from the actor who doesn't often has very little to do with talent. It’s hard work and professionalism.

I recently spoke with former Maggie Flanigan Studio student Graham Powell on Creating Behavior. Graham spent years writing, financing, producing, casting, and eventually starring in his independent feature Shackled. Going through that process changed the way he looked at actors because he was no longer simply showing up to perform. He had become one of the people responsible for actually getting the film made.

During our conversation, Graham reduced professionalism to three very simple things: be punctual, be prepared, and be polite. It sounds almost embarrassingly basic, but apparently it isn't. 

He told me about an actor who auditioned for Shackled and was talented and right for the role. The director gave the actor an adjustment, and the actor pushed back. There wasn't some dramatic confrontation. Nobody lectured the actor about their behavior. Graham and the director simply knew that they didn't want to spend twelve hours a day on a set with that person.

I think actors sometimes misunderstand how consequences work in this business. You may never be told that you were difficult. Nobody may confront you about being habitually late or unprepared. A director probably isn't going to call you afterward and explain that they didn't appreciate the way you responded to an adjustment. More often, the phone simply stops ringing. You don't get called again, and you may never know why.

I've spent more than twenty years training professional actors, and I have very little patience for someone who says they want to be taken seriously as an artist but doesn't prepare seriously. 

Preparation isn't simply about you. It demonstrates respect for everyone involved in creating the opportunity for you to work. 

Someone wrote the script. Someone raised the money. Someone found the location, built the set, negotiated the contracts, created the shooting schedule, prepared the wardrobe, set the lights, and solved a hundred problems you will never even know existed. People may have spent years creating the opportunity that allows you to walk onto that set and act.

Know your fucking lines. That's not some unreasonable demand for excellence. It's the minimum.

Being professional doesn't mean being passive or agreeable. It doesn't mean you shouldn't have an opinion. You're an artist. You should have opinions. 

Good actors bring ideas, ask intelligent questions, have strong instincts, and contribute to the collaboration. But collaboration also requires the ability to receive. When a director gives you an adjustment, your job isn't to defend the choice you already made. Try it. See where it takes you. You might discover something you never would have found on your own.

The ability to receive an adjustment and immediately work from it is an important part of an actor's craft. Can you remain open and flexible, or does every adjustment feel like criticism? Can you take in what a director is asking for without allowing your ego to become involved? Those are not small questions. They determine what kind of actor you are to work with.

Something else Graham said during our conversation stayed with me. After producing his own feature and seeing firsthand how much work was required before an actor ever stepped in front of the camera, he began experiencing a film set almost as hallowed ground. I understand exactly what he means. 

Actors can become extraordinarily self-involved. My character. My close-up. My performance. My career. My moment. But if you spend some time understanding what it actually takes to create the opportunity for you to act, your perspective begins to change.

A writer may have spent five years trying to get that script made. A producer may have spent years raising the money. People may have put their own finances at risk. A director may have fought relentlessly to cast you. There may be a hundred people working that day, so that eventually a camera can turn toward you, and someone can say action. And in that moment, all of those people are trusting you with something they have worked incredibly hard to create. I think that deserves some reverence.

Actors spend a lot of time worrying about headshots, reels, résumés, representation, casting profiles, and social media. Meanwhile, one of the most important parts of a career is being built quietly, often when you're not paying attention to it. Your reputation. 

Were you prepared? Were you on time? Could you take direction? Did you treat people with respect? Were you generous with the other actors? Could people trust you? Did you make the work better? Would they want to spend another fourteen-hour day with you?

This is a small business. People remember.

There has always been a mythology around the difficult genius, the volatile artist whose extraordinary talent somehow excuses everything else. I've never been interested in that mythology. 

Your talent doesn't give you permission to waste other people's time. Your sensitivity doesn't excuse being unprepared. Your artistic temperament doesn't exempt you from professional standards. And your training means very little if it doesn't eventually translate into how you conduct yourself when the stakes are real.

Craft isn't merely what happens between action and cut. It is how you prepare. It is how you listen. It is your discipline, flexibility, imagination, and ability to collaborate. It is being able to receive an adjustment without allowing your ego to get in the way. It is understanding that no matter how important your role may be, you are still one part of something much larger than yourself.

Professionalism is part of your craft. Be punctual. Be prepared. Be polite. Respect the work and the people who made it possible.

And when the camera finally turns toward you, be fucking good.

That's the job.

Take Your Training Seriously

Professionalism begins long before you walk onto a set. It shows up in how you train, how you prepare, and how willing you are to keep working when something doesn’t come easily.

At the Maggie Flanigan Studio, our acting programs ask you to take that work seriously.

The acting classes demand your attention and commitment. Through Meisner training, you develop a process you can trust. And with a strong acting technique, you can take an adjustment without falling apart or getting in your own way.

If you’re ready to do the work, schedule an interview or contact us to talk about training at the studio.