Renewing the Purpose of Playing (Part 2): What Are We Moving Towards?

Previously…

In Part 1 of this blog, I argued that actor training is stuck in survival mode: haunted by the past, unprepared for the future, and too often guided by away moves rather than towards moves. We lack a shared sense of purpose — a “why” that goes deeper than pleasing the industry or repeating inherited habits.

I suggested that if acting is to matter in the twenty-first century, we need to renew its purpose in a way that works on three levels: personal (how it gives meaning to the individual), collective (how it unites us in shared practice), and societal (how it offers something of value to the world).

But naming the need for a “multi-story why” only gets us so far. The next step is to begin sketching what that why might actually be. Not a final definition, but a working hypothesis: a statement we can test, refine, and wrestle with together.

That’s what this post attempts to do.

Taking a Deep Breath

Before launching in, it feels as though it might be wise for me to acknowledge a few things:

Firstly, it seems inevitable that whatever I manage to articulate here will end up being clumsy, flawed and, ultimately, incomplete. That, I contend, is a good thing. I can notice within myself the urge to delay writing this part of the blog until I have something perfect – something I know I’m happy with. But if I do that, I’ll never write it all.

More importantly, allowing that way of thinking to dictate my approach would undermine the whole argument I’ve been making. The point here is not to arrive at answer, but to engage in the process of really asking the question. Any “conclusion” should be regarded as a hypothesis, to be tested, refuted, reformulated, and refined on a never-ending basis.

Secondly, I am not claiming that anything I write here is the truth about acting – it might not even be a truth. It is simply an attempt to put forward a perspective. A perspective that can be compared and contrasted with others and that may well sit quite happily alongside them – enjoying a richer and more meaningful existence by living amidst a plurality of opinions.

Thirdly, I make no claim to originality. As I argued in the previous post, the aim is not to identify values for acting that nobody else has thought of. It is simply to articulate them in a manner that allows us to move towards them.

Rather than setting tradition and innovation in opposition to one another, my aim here will be to offer an account of acting that draws upon the traditions of which I am a part whilst equally inviting new ideas, radical change, and genuine experimentation. Similarly, my intention will be to frame something specifically enough for the view I put forward to be useful whilst trying to create a space that can be held for diverse practices and practitioners.  

With all of that in mind…

Here goes:

A Working Hypothesis

Acting is the embodied interpretation of humanity.

It is a “whole person” interrogation of life as it is lived, as it has been lived, and as it could be lived in imagined situations or hypothetical futures.

At its best, it dissolves binary distinctions between intellect and intuition, mind and body, thought and feeling, idea and sensation.

Its purpose is to provide credible, contemporary interpretations of what it means – and what it is like – to be human: to explore what drives us, to reveal experientially the personal, relational, and cultural patterns that shape our lives, so that actors and audiences alike might grow in compassion, awareness, insight, and connection.

By stepping imaginatively into the circumstances of others, we expand our own perspectives and model a more flexible, curious way of engaging with human behaviour, as we encounter it in ourselves and in those around us.

The mirror we hold up to nature does not simply reflect its surface: it penetrates it. We do not just tell the story, we wrestle with what’s inside it – not just what happens, but why it happens. We wrestle with what the story might actually be about.

Thus, our task is not to replicate life, but to be active in reconstructing it. Not always naturalistically, but always in ways that reflect real human processes as they are lived and felt (actually or potentially) by real human beings in real human contexts.

Without ever losing this connection to “reality”, the circumstances we imagine and inhabit can take us far beyond the limits of our direct experience – allowing us to project ourselves into other worlds (from the house next door to magical realms in which the seemingly impossible is rendered “true” and probable) and to explore, without immediate consequence, scenarios and courses of action that, if tested in the real world, could have profound, irreversible consequences for the lives we actually live. 

Indeed, it is by suspending the facts of life without suspending the “truth” of how it is lived and experienced that allows us to ask, with seriousness and integrity, what would it be like IF this were the case?

Acting, then, is not just performance. It is a mode of inquiry and a way of knowing. A unique kind of thought experiment in which a scenario can remain hypothetical whilst also being tested through real human experience.

It is a form of philosophy in the flesh that interrogates the complexities of human experience, not through abstract reasoning, but through embodied action. That tests ideas, not by explaining them, but by taking them into our bodies and seeing how they dance.

So What?

If any of that offers even a glimmer of what acting might be, the question remains… So what?

I suggest that this idea of acting matters in the contemporary world for at least three reasons:

1. Restoring connection in a fractured world.
Acting cultivates and models a curious, compassionate, and radically non-judgemental stance toward self and others. In an age of polarisation, echo chambers, and rush to judgement—where certainty masquerades as truth and difference is treated as threat—acting insists on slowing down and seeing each other fully. 

2. Reuniting thought and experience.
Acting refuses to separate abstraction from embodiment. It reminds us that every idea is lived and every experience shaped by context. In a culture where life is increasingly disembodied through screens, yet where lived experience is often treated as beyond critique, acting offers a vital corrective: truth emerges where concept and flesh meet.

3. Valuing process over product.
Acting centres the value of life, and centres the value of art, in process over product. The interpretations we produce – the “answers” we provide – can in themselves be valuable. But what matters far more is to engage sincerely and openly, and to witness that open engagement, in the process of inquiry itself. AI can produce twenty-eight readings of Hamlet in less than twenty-eight seconds. What it can never replicate or replace (even in principle) is the willingness of real human beings to commit their minds, bodies, emotions, and experiences to the simple, sincere action of trying to understand.

That is what it’s about. That’s what makes it worth doing. That’s what makes it worth watching. And, as our lives transform around us, that is the most urgent message that art can offer humanity.     

The Multi-Story Why

If, at its heart, acting can be considered the embodied interpretation of humanity, I believe this idea maps onto the “multi-story” framework I have advocated as follows:

·         Personal (self): Interpreting humanity provides the actor with a sense of purpose beyond self-expression. It becomes a way of knowing—an inquiry into what it means to live, to feel, to choose—that deepens self-understanding and resilience.

·         Collective (ensemble): Interpreting humanity is not a solitary act but a shared mission. Within a company, it requires listening, responding, and creating together, so that the group reveals more than any one voice could hold alone. It models a way of living relationally, with openness and flexibility.

·         Societal (culture): Interpreting humanity is an offering to the wider world. It resists disembodiment, commodification, and reduction of human beings to data points, reminding society of its own complexity, fragility, and potential. At its best, acting becomes a cultural act of care.

In Other Words

As the embodied interpretation of humanity, acting is how we dare to step into other lives, to test the truth of stories in our bones, and to wrestle with what it means to be alive.

In a world that fractures thought from feeling, acting reunites them. In a culture hungry for connection, acting insists on presence. At a time when easy answers seduce us, acting chooses the honest work of searching.

Acting may be fun, but it is not merely a pastime. It is not simply a form of entertainment or a comforting distraction from life as we know it. It is a calling to curiosity, to compassion, to courage. It is a practice of becoming more fully human — and inviting others to do the same.

From this perspective, the aim of playing Juliet is not simply to tell the story. It is not to recite poetry “well” or to play actions for the sake of being a “good actor”. It is not to cry. It is not to show the audience your impression of what a “romantic young girl” might look like. It is not to “honour the text” as an iambic golden calf, to “be convincing” like a sales rep on commission, or even to “move the audience” like a Christmas ad for John Lewis. You may well do variations of all those things. But they are means to an end, or the byproducts of serving it, rather than ends in themselves. The task is this: to recreate the world from the perspective you believe to be Juliet’s. To stand inside that world and be willing to touch it and taste it. It is to use yourself, the text, and the utmost potential of your imagination, to grapple with the nature(s) of love as Juliet lives it. To ask what it is, where it comes from, what shaped and continues to shape it. What is it like to experience? What is it like to act upon? What makes the mechanics of Juliet’s love echo through so many centuries? What has it to do with us? The job is not just to transform – it is to welcome the possibility of being yourself transformed. Not “into Juliet”, but into someone who has tried with all of their being to know the world through the prism of her perspective, and who has dared to remain open to being changed by that experience.

Perhaps this sounds quite heavy. But this is not an argument against work being joyful or playful. It is simply a call towards the higher pleasure – the true joy – of playing the game with purpose. With intent. With meaning.

And what I’m proposing does not only address itself to tragedy or high drama. The principles I’m describing apply as readily to Bottom as to Juliet. To Noises Off as readily as to Ghosts. Comedy, when it lands, is just as much a question of perspective-taking. The tragic figure is tragic because they are trapped inside a rigid perspective on life. The comic figure is comic for exactly the same reason. The tragic figure is experienced as tragic by the audience because we are invited, if not forced, to experience the “reality” of the character’s perspective whilst also being aware of perspectives that differ from it. The comic figure is experienced as comic by the audience in exactly the same way. So, when we watch Medea decide to kill her children, we experience it both from her perspective and from that of the chorus. And we are forced to recognise both as part of our own humanity. That is what makes it so painful. At a seemingly other extreme, when we laugh at a character like David Brent (or, indeed, Michael Scott), we experience the “reality” of his perspective at the same time as we see him from the perspectives of others. And, again, we recognise both. When, as actors, we “judge” our characters, when we “demonstrate” or “generalise” it is this potential for experiencing multiple perspectives that is the first and fatal casualty. We see only one perspective: that of the “actor-as-audience”. The tragic is no longer tragic. The comic is no longer comic. And all we perceive is performance.

“Bad acting” – evaluated in relation to the hypothesis I have put forward – is not a less skilful version of “good acting”, it is a direct contradiction of the values that acting serves. If “good acting” has the potential to make the world better, “bad acting” (in this sense) has the capacity to make it worse. Which is why the responsibility is so great. To act well is not only a matter of skill — it is a matter of service. To choose the work of “good acting” is to choose to carry the possibility of transformation, for ourselves and for others. And such responsibility is not a burden but a privilege – the joy of choosing to take part in something that matters. To you. To the ensemble. To the world in which you live.      

Yeah, but… so what?

Does naming a purpose for acting in this way make any material difference to the practice of acting itself?

I believe it does. I believe it should.

Because what I’m trying to articulate here is a vision of what acting can and could be moving towards – not a definition of what acting is by default.

Most of the time, acting isn’t any of this. Much of what I see actors doing in training has no connection to this whatsoever.

And even if we say stuff like this, that doesn’t mean that we’re doing it.

If we want to pursue acting in a way that pursues this purpose, we have to actively choose it and we have to commit to actions that take this pursuit seriously.

And if you disagree with my perspective – if you have an alternative vision of what acting could and should be a movement towards – great! Choose it. Commit to it. Just do that!

Because the primary argument of this blog is not that you should be doing this, but that you should be doing something.   

Taking Committed Action

If Part 2 has been about sketching a working hypothesis, Part 3 will turn to the even harder question: what does it mean to take this premise seriously?

It’s one thing to name a purpose. It’s another to live as though it mattered – to make these values our compass and take real steps toward them.

That will mean asking what kinds of training, rehearsal, pedagogy, and performance practices are required if we are to embody this purpose rather than simply admire it from a distance. It will mean looking at what it takes to move from statement to commitment, from words on the page to actions in the room. And it will mean being honest about how I am attempting to do that in my own work with ACT for Acting.

But before I go there, I want to pause. Because this can’t – and shouldn’t – be a monologue. If the point is to wrestle with acting’s “why,” then I’d love to wrestle with it alongside you.

So… 

·         Do you agree with the hypothesis I’ve offered here?

·         Do you disagree — even profoundly?

·         Do you have your own sense of what acting could and should be moving towards?

Whatever your answer, I’d love to hear it. Leave a comment below, send me an email, or just start a conversation with the actors and artists around you.

Because whether we share the same “why” or not, the urgent task is the same: to choose a vision, to test it in practice, and to commit to the actions that will move us in a direction that has meaning for the twenty-first century.