A Matthew Har­ri­son Essay

I just fin­ished the lat­est inten­sive work­shop and I’m buzzing with thoughts.

The theme that hung over this past week­end was: “Get­ting it right“.

What a hor­ri­ble phrase. What a deadly idea. “Get­ting it right.” The com­pul­sion to suc­ceed, to get an “A” from the teacher, a sticker on the board, have all your col­leagues con­grat­u­late you on succeeding…it’s a pow­er­ful enemy…
We live in a world that rewards per­fec­tion. Per­fect teeth. Per­fect skin. Per­fect waist­line. Per­fect cou­ple. The per­fect child. The per­fect pair of jeans – the per­fect hol­i­day – the per­fect gift. In every mag­a­zine, tele­vi­sion com­mer­cial, restau­rant, class room, audi­tion room, and set…there’s this lie: that there is such a thing as per­fec­tion. Your essay was marked 78%. That’s 22% away from per­fec­tion. If you’re not the per­fect kid, your par­ents won’t love you. If you don’t do this exer­cise , or scene, or audi­tion perfectly…God help you.

Well, I hate to tell you, but look around…God’s not per­fect either.

We need to wipe this notion from our lives. It only leads to frus­tra­tion and self– destruc­tion. Art is a reflec­tion of life. Act­ing is the art­form of cre­at­ing real life and reflect­ing it back to the world. Life is not even close to being per­fect. Act­ing shouldn’t be either.

You’re stand­ing in front of class…or in front of the cast­ing direc­tor and producers…and sud­denly you’re seized with a panic: “I’m not per­fect!” What’s the easy answer? Shut down. Escape. Hide. If I FAIL then I can’t be judged as imper­fect because I didn’t even try.

Fuck that. Fail. Go on. Fail away.

Do it. Do your work. Break down the scene. Mine the script for details. Search your­self for under­stand­ing. Clear your mind, focus on your part­ner, and ACT. If you REALLY get out of your way and sim­ply do the work, the result will be exactly what it ought to be…not perfect…not imperfect…but life itself.

Then there’s the other lie…

That the art­form demands that you be as per­fect as pos­si­ble a human being see­ing as you’re being watched, scru­ti­nized, ana­lyzed, and judged.

The truth is the oppo­site. We love imper­fec­tions. We love that Sean Penn is slightly insane, that Rus­sell Crowe is angry and overly sen­si­tive, that Meryl Streep is goofy and weepy. We love them for it because THEY’RE HUMAN. Rejoice in your imper­fec­tions. Love the fact that you’re scared, anx­ious, pas­sion­ate, child­ish, sensitive…stop being so hard on your­self. Stop hurt­ing your­self. Take a good look at how imper­fect you are and THANK THE STARS that you’re not perfect.

Stop ascrib­ing val­ues to things like pain, hurt, issues, depres­sion, events. There is no pos­i­tive or neg­a­tive, good or bad, per­fect or imperfect.

It all JUST IS.

Life isn’t per­fect. But life is won­der­ful in all it’s messed-​up glory. Because it is LIFE. Embrace it.

Doesn’t all that take the pres­sure off?

In fact…it means you can jump into your work with an un-​adulterated “aw, the– hell-​with-​it” atti­tude – see­ing as I can’t get it right any­way, and that I’m allowed, in fact, encour­aged to be imper­fect anay­way – I may as well sim­ply work hard, stick to the text, and tell the story the writer wants me to. In the end, this deletes all pre­ten­sious­ness, all pre­cious­ness, any and all feel­ings that you are ade­qute or inad­e­quate. Instead, it cul­ti­vates the idea that YOU ARE YOU…and that’s when real and deep work happens.

When we real­ize that it’s not about us – not about us try­ing to be per­fect – guess what hap­pens? We do THE WORK. And when the work gets done, and some­one watches and is moved by a lit­tle moment of real, earnest, intense human­ity, you know what hap­pens…? The world is made a slightly bet­ter place.

Not a per­fect place. A bet­ter place.
Matthew Harrison