3.2.1: Acting

Acting

Acting is the bridge between the script and the screen, turning written characters into living, breathing individuals that resonate with audiences. For students studying film, understanding the various approaches to acting—how actors prepare, how they perform, and how their work fits into the overall film—offers key insights into both the craft of acting and the process of filmmaking itself. Whether in classical, naturalistic, or emotionally immersive styles like Method Acting, the actor’s job is to make the character feel real.

From the Stage to the Screen

In the early days of cinema, acting borrowed heavily from the traditions of live theater. Actors, used to performing for audiences at a distance, relied on large, exaggerated gestures and expressions to convey emotions. This style of acting worked well on stage, but the intimacy of the camera demanded something different. The close-up changed everything. Suddenly, the smallest flicker of emotion—a raised eyebrow, a quick glance—could communicate as much as a dramatic monologue.

In Japanese cinema, we see this shift in films like Tokyo Chorus (1931), where early performances still carry the weight of theater, with broad, expressive acting that connects to the stage. But as filmmakers like Yasujirō Ozu refined their style, actors began to lean into subtlety, creating a new form of acting for the screen that was quieter, more natural, and more attuned to the camera’s intimacy.

Classical Acting

Classical acting draws on centuries-old traditions, emphasizing precision in speech and movement. This style of acting often focuses on external expression—how an actor uses their body and voice to communicate the character’s intentions. It’s all about control and clarity, and less about deep emotional immersion. Classical acting works well for roles that require a sense of formality or distance, and in many historical or epic films, it’s the go-to approach.

A perfect example is Akira Kurosawa’s Ran (1985), where Tatsuya Nakadai’s performance as Lord Hidetora reflects the influence of Noh theater. In this film, Nakadai’s measured, deliberate movements carry the weight of his character’s tragic downfall. His performance is rooted in tradition, using physical gestures and a calm, controlled demeanor to reflect inner turmoil. Here, the actor’s body becomes a tool for storytelling, much like in classical theater.

But maybe you want a more up-to-date example of the classical approach. How about this:

Morgan Freeman took on the role of Nelson Mandela for Invictus (2009) and approached it as a classically trained actor, trusting the script to convey what mattered most. In his own words, “The biggest challenge that I had was to sound like him. Everything else was kind of easy, to walk like him. I didn’t have any agenda as it were in playing the role. The agenda is incorporated into the script and all I had to do was learn my lines.”

Naturalistic Acting

While Method Acting draws from emotional intensity, Naturalistic Acting is more about subtlety and restraint. It’s not about big, dramatic gestures or deep dives into personal memories—it’s about making the character seem as real and relatable as possible. Naturalistic acting aims for authenticity in small, quiet moments.

In Tokyo Story (1953), Setsuko Hara’s portrayal of Noriko is a masterclass in naturalistic acting. She doesn’t need to cry or shout to express her character’s emotions; a slight smile or a hesitant pause says it all. Hara’s performance is filled with these small, natural moments, where every gesture feels spontaneous, yet controlled. This type of acting thrives in films that focus on ordinary people and the small, everyday emotions that build up over time.

Method Acting

On the other side of the spectrum is the Stanislavski Method, or Method Acting, which is all about emotional truth. Originating from the teachings of Konstantin Stanislavski, Method Acting encourages actors to dig deep into their own experiences and emotions to bring characters to life. It began in Russia at the end of the 19th century, upending centuries of classical technique by encouraging his actors to let go of their grip on the text and trust their own emotional experience to guide their performance. The result was a more inward-looking, internal, often improvisational approach to acting, not to mention a more naturalistic style, and it became a slow-moving revolution in stage and screen performance throughout the 20th century. This approach became popular in Hollywood through actors like Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro, but it also found its way into Japanese cinema, though not always in the same formalized way.

Take Toshiro Mifune in Seven Samurai (1954). His portrayal of the wild and unpredictable Kikuchiyo is electric. Mifune didn’t simply play the role; he lived it, often improvising his lines and using raw, physical energy to convey the character’s complex mix of bravado and vulnerability. Though not formally trained in Method Acting, Mifune embodied the same core idea: using his own emotional well to fuel the character’s actions. His performance feels spontaneous, real, and unpredictable—like it’s happening for the first time in front of the camera.

Acting for the Camera

One of the biggest challenges in film acting is working with the camera. Unlike theater, where actors perform continuously, film is shot in pieces, and often out of sequence. An actor might shoot the climactic scene of a film on the first day of production and a quiet, early scene in the last week. This means actors need to keep their emotional journey straight, even when the scenes aren’t filmed in order.

The camera itself also changes the way actors perform. In films like Late Spring (1949), where Yasujirō Ozu used low, static camera angles, the actors couldn’t rely on movement to communicate emotion. Instead, their performances had to be more internal, expressed through subtle shifts in facial expression or body language. This is where the camera’s close-up becomes an actor’s best friend. With the camera right up in their face, actors can convey volumes of emotion with the slightest change in expression—a technique that’s crucial to both naturalistic and Method styles.

The Art of Voice Acting in Japanese Animation

Tokyo often serves as more than just a backdrop in Japanese cinema; it’s a character in itself. Actors in Tokyo-set films frequently portray characters grappling with the tension between tradition and modernity, a theme that often requires a blend of classical, naturalistic, and method approaches.

In Tokyo Story, Chishū Ryū’s understated performance as a father dealing with the slow dissolution of his family is a quiet reflection of this tension. His acting isn’t dramatic or showy—there are no big emotional breakdowns—but through small, measured movements and quiet expressions, Ryū captures the heartbreak of watching his family drift apart. The same goes for Toshiro Mifune in High and Low (1963), where his intense, morally conflicted businessman carries the weight of both traditional honor and modern ambition.

In Japanese anime, voice actors are known as seiyū, and their work is a highly respected craft. Much like how live-action actors develop techniques to refine their physical performances, seiyū undergo specialized training to develop vocal skills that allow them to portray a wide range of characters, from youthful protagonists to ancient spirits. Unlike traditional live-action acting, where gestures, facial expressions, and body language contribute to a performance, voice actors must convey all the emotional nuances, tension, and personality solely through their voice.

As we’ve discussed how physical performances in live-action films draw us into the emotional and narrative core of cinema, it’s equally important to recognize the vital role of voice acting, particularly in Japanese animation, or anime. In animation, particularly in the works of directors like Hayao Miyazaki, voice acting is not just about delivering lines—it’s about capturing the very essence of the characters, their emotions, and their world. Just as Miyazaki carefully crafts his visual mise-en-scène—from the detailed settings to the interplay of light and shadow—the seiyū imbue each character with the emotional depth necessary to connect with the audience. Voice acting in anime becomes a performance of precision, where the actor must channel not only the character’s inner life but also synchronize perfectly with the visual rhythm of the animation.

However, the importance of voice acting is not limited to anime alone.

A recent example of the power of voice performances can be seen in Inside Out 2. Like Miyazaki’s work, Inside Out captures the emotional complexity of its characters purely through vocal expression. Amy Poehler, returning as Joy, brings energy and optimism, while new cast members like Maya Hawke, voicing Anxiety, add fresh layers to the emotional landscape of the film. Each voice actor skillfully embodies their respective emotion, creating characters that resonate deeply with audiences, even without the physical presence of live-action performers.

Here’s a look at how the voice cast of Inside Out 2 explores these emotions through vocal performance, blending humor, tension, and vulnerability in their characters:

This clip highlights the versatility and creativity that go into voice acting. Just as seiyū in Japanese animation capture a wide range of emotions—often working in isolation—the actors in Inside Out 2 navigate complex emotional arcs using only their voices. Whether portraying Anxiety's nervous energy or Envy's high-pitched jealousy, these performances mirror the skillful voice work we see in anime, demonstrating how voice acting is an essential part of animated storytelling across cultures.

The Challenges and Rewards of Voice Acting

Voice acting presents its own set of challenges, much like physical acting in live-action films. Seiyū often work in isolation, recording their lines without interacting directly with other actors. This requires not only a strong imagination but also a deep understanding of the script, as they must anticipate how their performance will blend with others and the visual elements.

Moreover, voice acting can take a toll on the actor’s voice. In emotionally intense films like Spirited Away or action-packed Castle in the Sky (1986), actors may have to repeat highly charged lines dozens of times, pushing their vocal cords to the limit. It can be pretty intense:

The Emotional Power of Voice in Animation

Voice acting is, ultimately, another layer of mise-en-scène. Just as a director uses setting, lighting, and composition to craft the visual experience of a film, the voice actor uses their vocal performance to shape the emotional landscape of the story. In animated films, where the audience can’t rely on physical performances, the voice becomes the conduit through which emotion and character are conveyed.

In Miyazaki’s films, voice acting works in harmony with his meticulously designed worlds, from the wind brushing through the trees in My Neighbor Totoro (1988) to the eerie stillness of the bathhouse in Spirited Away (2001). The voices of his characters blend seamlessly with the visuals, creating a cinematic experience where every element—visual, aural, and emotional—is in perfect balance.