A little bulb went off in my head. Actors today are trained toward playing character, and we do, in fact, often neglect the scene. There’s little hiding from this.

This is especially true in film and television, where more attention is paid to character elements like wardrobe, stylings, mannerisms, look, haircuts, habits and catchy one-liners, than if a scene is any good in its entirety. Whether something is advanced in the emotional make-up of the character, or whether we learn something beyond simple story points has been rendered nearly irrelevant. It’s a race between plot and character, scene be damned.

The scene, as it were, is nearly dead, rendering our most basic criticism of them as to whether they’re too long or too short. “Too long” means we got the plot point and would like the narrative to move on, “too short” means there wasn’t enough time to get our needed dose of character.

I have an audition coming up, and as I sat in class I ran my lines in my head, searching for whether I’d done any work on the scene. I had not. Several choices about vocal pitch, clothing and a nervous twitchiness had been established, but there was little in my preparation that answered the question, “So, what is this about? What’s going on? What are the points A and B here?” I had no idea, and here I was, a professional actor, studying with a celebrated teacher, suddenly clueless about the basics of my own craft.

But I felt as though I’d been mercifully spared another round of an anguished audition later. I could go back and do my work, properly. If I do the job, the rest follows, and it’s the attention to scene that will separate a mediocre read from a good one. Whether anybody in the room knows what’s going on doesn’t matter. Something will be felt, the way good stitching holds a bad together even as we desire only to feel the smoothness of the leather.

And at any rate, nearly all the classes out there are still being advertised as “scene study,” are they not?

In the best of circumstances, you’re working, on something you like, and you’re well paid. In these times you walk the earth with a lighter step. Traffic snarls are merely chances to listen to more music, rain is refreshing, and the dim-witted cashier is a person worthy of compassion.

And in the worst of times, the wisdom of a three day waiting period to purchase a hand gun becomes clearer than ever.

I am no stranger to these matters, of course, much as I can elucidate a point or two about them. An assessment of my life can shift depending on the day, or the hour of the day, so that at breakfast I’m King Midas and by lunch I’m Wile E. Coyote, and all that happened in between was a phone call, or lack thereof. It’s a fragile state of affairs.

It need not be so. Caring about one’s work and livelihood is a good thing, of course, but defining ourselves by the decibel level of applause we hear is a fool’s errand.  It will never be high enough, and even Pavarotti had nights where the standing ovations must have felt tepid.

So, where do we go from here? What is the winning shot in the endless volley of good times/bad times? Can we live lives of equanimity and joy, regardless of the external circumstances?

The answer is yes. The art of it lies in defining what we can control, and what we can’t control, and making sure our energies are focused on the former. If the only joy an actor experiences comes from getting the call with the offer, it’s going to be a dark road. If instead, there is equal, or dare I say greater, excitement in, say, putting up good work in a class, then we might have something.

The formula may seem simple, but it’s effective.  It’s also very difficult to master, and no, I am no great master. But I know the road I have to travel, and that may make all the difference…

For the Mineralava Musings, this is Edoardo Ballerini.

Anyway, I confess that I’ve yet to see a full episode of the show, but I’ll watch a few episodes today and get up to speed.  There’s little more embarrassing, or inconsiderate, than arriving on set not knowing who anybody is, or what the tone of a show is.  On the set of my first job, an episode of “Law & Order,” I barely knew anything, and I ended up asking some pretty dumb questions.

My only concern is that the lead actor’s eyes might actually be the color they’re claiming they are in the poster and that I’ll end up being blinded…