Acting for life (8-2-10)

On a recent day, a semi-comatose guy in his 20s asked me, an X-ray technician, at work: “Is there any reason to live?” Although his condition, which I was not completely familiar with, and the unexpectedness of the question took me by surprise, my life of 35 years and both physically and psychologically normal state helped almost improvise a reply: “Because there is a reason, you live, I suppose.”

Momentarily thereafter, I considered my answer as perhaps irresponsible and too simple to such a profound question, after recalling the dire living situations of certain developing countries with scores of people suffering. Followingly, yet, my somewhat indifferent manner of perceiving him created another irresponsible remark, “You will be ok.” He had a tattoo on his shoulder, something unusual for regular Japanese who are doing well in society, and the casual outfits of his companions (a middle-aged man and a young lady) had me speculate in what environment and how he had lived to date. I might have overestimated his psychological state, but I felt he would be ok looking at his good physique and sanguine skin, and projecting how energetically he would move.

Although I was neither his personal mentor nor close friend and therefore my response was able to become provisional, to some extent I could afford to sympathize with him since my younger days had not been immaculate too. I had mornings when I really hated to come back to reality which ruthlessly filled me with anxiety, waking up.

Mornings can really divide people into either a happy world or the other. They in the latter are unfortunate for individually different reasons. Yet at the same time, their desire to escape from difficult situations can prove genuine and powerful when and because these are real. When the strugglers demonstrate upturns or recoveries, therefore, memoirs can supply a lot of encouragement to an arid world.

In daily life, people sometimes look for motivation from seeing inspiring stories and exemplary acting. Such pieces are successful because of a consistent story and the depth (in expression) of actors who understand the reason behind each inch of action and each word. As for a quality play, the audience are permitted to sentimentally assimilate with key characters, and non-fictional stories can effectively be encouraging and/or uplifting. All this is why actors must grab the details of given situations. (Fictional works, especially those with unearthly settings, must rely much on acting skills.)

While some actors are innately gifted, the rest dominate the majority. At an amateurish level, across a range of professions, genders and ages, a significant number of people define an acting school as their another home place. The reason for going to the kind of school depends on the individual.

On a personal note, more than a decade ago, a major acting school in Shinjuku, Tokyo, assigned to a class the scripts of only the climax scene of a fictional story. The provided scripts started from a scene, in which Soji Okita, the protagonist, a samurai who really existed in the mid-nineteenth century and was a member of Shinsengumi, a special police force of the late shogunate period, had time-traveled to the present time and was somehow chasing Yuki, the heroine, to a park, having left a party. “Wait, Yuki!” Soji shouted, but she was ballistic.

“You should keep dancing with those ladies!”

But Yuki asked Soji why he was eventually favoring her.

Soji’s response was straightforward: “Because I love Yuki!” And they ended up hugging each other with Yuki’s exclamation, “Soji!” (These are just the gist. The real scripts were lengthier.)

Although the given text was just part of the entire story, students had better research who Soji was and what circumstances he lived in, in order to deepen the understanding of his personality and characteristics, and then to adapt the optimum combination of emotion and an expression to each action scene by scene. This kind of research was much more demanding than today as there was no Internet technology available. Just some limited number of students looked to have done a good job.

While professional actors can move the hearts of an audience, stories with realistic scenes can be the most effective denominator. Take the case of a film, “My sister’s Keeper,” for example. A couple, both of whom suffer from leukemia, nevertheless (or therefore?) offer lessons about what life means. Real patients racked with leukemia must have helped craft the story, but in return the couple’s instructively good attitudes on-screen should work as additional medicine for them.

Back to the young guy who asked me the question, I must admit that my response was a bit at levity then. My retrospection soon followed: a person whose birth was primed well by the parents with good vision and who has been raised under their high logic must confront fewer unnecessary troubles down the road. Although there are still inevitable obstacles in the course of life, if the right living manner is practiced he/she is not alone as somebody must keep an eye on the subject. Additionally, to rescue sufferers from some psychological trauma onto the right track, professional counselors are supposed to be able to activate high sympathy to get in the shoes of patients or clients, armed with special skills and knowledge. Parents or friends with genuine affection for the subject may be able to play a role as counselors as well.

After all, I think Yuki possessed absolute qualities as a human and Soji found them conspicuous amongst women he had seen in both time zones. Vise versa, according to records, despite the factual slaying of his enemies Soji was distinctively humane—a quality that enables his character to be interpreted so that it can resonate with Yuki’s.

Although I may have been as mature as my age suggested, making an adequate response was still a difficult job.

Yet I only hope someone will give the young guy this message:

“Even if you could return to the past to change your status quo, the actual encounter with your younger self would end up causing a massive explosion. Instead, it will be safe to meet yourself in the future and receive an answer to your question.”


PS: I still remember that acting scene in which I played Soji and hugged a young lady. Going back to the small group of her female friends, she said something like, “He is kind of muscular!” Thank you very much.