Return to the Original Intention
Acting, at its essence, is an inherently vulnerable endeavor. It demands that performers stand before strangers, immerse themselves in fictional worlds, and experience extreme emotional highs and lows—all while remaining convincing. It requires shedding personal identities, embodying unfamiliar characters, and sometimes enacting scenes that feel unnatural or even absurd.
Imagine standing on a stage in London's West End, peeling away all pretense to embody a madman or a poet. The stage provides a structured environment where such performances feel natural. But what happens when the same performance is taken in front of a camera? Or performed before a live audience in an open, unpredictable space? In everyday settings, the stark contrast between reality and theatricality can create a sense of awkwardness that even seasoned actors must learn to overcome.
For this reason, the first step in acting is breaking down personal barriers—dispelling self-consciousness, discarding masks, and embracing the absurd. To an actor, the ability to abandon ego and embrace raw emotion is not a flaw; it is a strength. Many say that actors are mad or eccentric, and perhaps to an extent, that is true. They must surrender to the moment, stepping outside logic and self-awareness to fully inhabit their roles.
The First Lesson: Letting Go
One of the most notorious acting exercises involves imitating animals. The simpler tasks might include mimicking a lion or a dog, while more complex ones involve embodying a crane or a cicada. To an outsider, watching a grown adult crawl on the floor or chirp like an insect may seem foolish, even ridiculous. Many students, burdened by their own embarrassment, resist the exercise, dismissing it as meaningless. Some even grow frustrated, believing they are being tricked.
However, this exercise is a staple in even the most prestigious acting academies.
Firstly, performance begins with imitation. Every great actor starts by mimicking before developing their own unique style. Secondly, this exercise forces students to abandon their inhibitions, breaking down self-imposed restraints to find their most natural state.
Every actor must go through this process.
The goal is not just to mimic an animal's physicality but to break free from personal limitations. Actors who cannot relinquish their self-consciousness, who remain preoccupied with maintaining an image, will always struggle to deliver authentic performances. They become nothing more than rigid, superficial facades.
Early Challenges
Renly remembers his own experiences vividly. After completing their first week of acting class, students were divided into groups and given public performance assignments. Each student would receive a random prompt and be required to act it out on the spot.
One of his classmates was assigned: "A rattlesnake in the quagmire—begging—feeling joy."
The absurdity of the prompt did not matter. The exercise was not about realism but about commitment. As the teacher announced it, the students exchanged hesitant glances, each wondering how they would tackle such an assignment.
Every prompt was a test of vulnerability.
When Renly's turn came, his assigned scenario was: "An angry ostrich in the snow."
Even reading the prompt felt surreal. How does an ostrich express anger? How does it react to snow—a completely unfamiliar environment for the species? But that was the essence of the exercise: to push actors beyond their comfort zones and force them to create something convincing out of the unexpected.
Embracing the Uncomfortable
That was only the beginning. After a month, the assignments grew even more challenging. In his second public performance exercise, Renly's prompt was: "The restaurant scene from When Harry Met Sally—performed by a man."
It was a moment of comedic serendipity. This particular scene, made famous by Meg Ryan, required her character to convincingly fake an orgasm in a crowded restaurant.
For a woman, the performance was already challenging. For a man? Even more so.
At first, Renly hesitated, his mind racing through options. But then, he let go. He embraced the absurdity, fully committing to the moment. Years later, he was confident he could do it again—only now, he would add his own unique interpretation rather than simply imitating Ryan's performance.
Those early struggles were invaluable. The nervous excitement, the thrill of stepping into the unknown, the sheer joy of creation—these moments shaped his journey. Back then, every performance, no matter how flawed, was special. It was part of the process of becoming an actor.
Returning to the Basics
As Renly advanced in his career, moving from novice to professional, those fundamental lessons never faded. They became an intrinsic part of his craft, manifesting in layered, nuanced performances.
On this particular day, however, something was different.
The scene being filmed required a purely instinctive response—a conditioned reflex in the face of crisis. Instead of controlling the performance, Renly needed to relinquish control entirely. The presence of the IRIS robotic arm, which captured dynamic close-ups, further amplified the raw physicality of the scene. Exaggerated reactions—falling, stumbling, rolling—were not just necessary but essential.
For any other film, this approach might have seemed crude or overacted. But for Gravity, it was the perfect fit. It aligned seamlessly with Alfonso Cuarón's vision, enhancing the immersive experience.
And yet, Renly found himself struggling.
Years of honing precise, controlled performances had conditioned him to approach roles methodically. Now, faced with a scene that required pure, unfiltered reaction, he felt out of sync. He was overthinking, hesitating. The result was a performance that felt awkward and exaggerated.
Then, he realized—this was just like his first acting class.
He had spent so much time refining his craft that he had momentarily lost touch with the raw, unpolished passion that started it all. But now, Gravity had given him a rare gift: the chance to rediscover it.
He couldn't help but laugh.
Rediscovering the Spark
Since The Pacific, Renly had pushed himself further and further, gaining confidence with each performance. Yet, on this day, a simple exercise had exposed a gap—a reminder that no matter how much one grows, returning to the fundamentals is essential.
That kind of uninhibited release was liberating. It transported him back to the beginning of his journey, to the moment when acting was pure, unfiltered excitement.
Many people dream of recapturing their youthful passion, their original spark. But growth inevitably changes us, reshaping our perspectives and altering our paths. The past often becomes a distant memory, impossible to reclaim.
But today, Renly was lucky.
Gravity had reignited something deep within him—the sheer joy of performance, unburdened by expectation. It reminded him why he fell in love with acting in the first place.
As he chuckled to himself, Rooney Mara, observing his transformation, felt a surge of excitement.
"Emmanuel," she called out eagerly, "can I try it? Can I perform under the IRIS robotic arm?"
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Though they hadn't spoken, she had sensed the shift in Renly's approach, and she, too, wanted to experience it firsthand.
Renly grinned. "Not so fast. I'm not done yet—I want another go."
The two actors, caught in a childlike enthusiasm, playfully bickered over who would take the next turn.
And just like that, the magic of performance had returned.