Actors don’t realize it a lot of the time, but the SM-Actor relationship can be extremely intimate. They trust us so fully to catch them. And we do. We catch them with our blocking notes and well-designed backstage paths, with the breaks we call with stunning regularity. We spend our hours planning how to keep them happy and safe. We watch them and learn their body language: we know when they are having just a slightly off night, or when they are in danger and haven’t realized it yet. Any SM cares for actors. But to really be there for them and for the show, we must fall in love with them a little bit.
An SM answers when an actor calls line– but the best of us can hear their voice falter and know to look down the moment before they call.
An SM calls cues between lines and blocking– but when we know the actor well enough we speak their lights and sounds into existence as if they were bringing it about themselves. They don’t see us behind that table, but we always see them.
Even if the person-to-person connection is not there, an SM who loves their actors will know how to give comfort when something goes wrong and does so unhesitatingly. Do they need a shoulder to cry on? A stupid joke to laugh off? A person to yell at to vent their frustration? We know, and we understand.
We are their advocate when they are not present, and we do our job solely so that they can do theirs. There is a martyrdom in that, but there is also love. Actors know much of what we do and know that they need us to make their magic happen. But I don’t think they know how deeply we love them.
