An Open Letter to Leonardo DiCaprio

Dear Leonardo,

As someone with reverence for the art of acting (and yes, in my opinion it is an art), I read with dismay the interview in Calendar (“In Pursuit of Paradise,” by Sean Mitchell, Jan. 23) in which, in reference to your lack of formal acting training, you said, “I’ve

found that when I do that sort of stuff, it makes things more formulaic and takes away the natural charisma that a human being has. . . . And sometimes, when things are too technical, they may come across as realistic but they don’t always hit you in the gut as much, is my view on it. If that makes any sense.”

Well no, Leonardo, that doesn’t make much sense at all. Where was “the natural charisma that a human being has” in “The Man in the Iron Mask” or “Total Eclipse”? Perhaps with some training you might have been able to access yours, which was sadly missing from those films.

Yes, it’s unfortunate when things are “too technical,” but hasn’t anyone ever told you that technical and technique are two different things, and that technique is what we develop precisely so that our acting doesn’t become too technical? The only problem is that it takes time and dedication to develop a solid technique, and until you have it, you risk being bad without knowing why or what to do about it. You risk being like a ballet dancer who only “turns out” some of the time, or an opera tenor who only occasionally sings on key.

Whoever told you, as you said in the interview, that there are “rules about how to act”? There are basic internal and external skills that every actor should have, there is intelligence and taste and honesty, and there is knowledge that comes from exposure to the experience of those who have preceded us. But rules? No.

There is, however, such a thing called craft, which allows us to awaken appropriate impulses and enables us to turn those impulses reliably and consistently into truthful and expressive behavior. A solid grasp of craft is never a hindrance. On the contrary, control of one’s instrument is what gives us total freedom of creative expression. Ask Pablo Casals, or Andres Segovia or Arthur Rubinstein.

Art doesn’t have to be a hit-or-miss affair, nor should it be. Picasso, Edward Hopper and Jackson Pollock, three of the 20th century’s more accomplished and successful painters, all had a background of strong classical training. They also painted in three widely divergent styles that had nothing to do with rules. Though none painted in a classical style, it’s there in the work, giving them a confidence, strength and power every time they picked up a brush.

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I can understand that you might fear training at this stage in your career. You’re afraid that thinking about things that you have taken for granted, and that have seemed to come naturally up to now, might suddenly stifle the charm and impulsiveness that you rely on (and that you’ve improperly labeled “charisma”).

Yes, you’re right, it might not be easy for a while, but if you were willing to commit to the acquisition of a deeply ingrained and consistently reliable craft, you might find yourself able to go places with your acting you never imagined possible. The naturally gifted boy you’ve been up to now (and 25 is a bit old to continue being a boy) might become a sublimely skillful man.

There are musicians with great intuition and emotional depth who lack the technical skills to express their feelings as fully and precisely as they might. There are musicians with flawless technical skills whose playing is cold and unfeeling. And then there are those musicians who combine the best of both. That is technique, and it comes through rigorous training, discipline and knowledge. It is exactly the same in acting as in any other art.

John Crowther has experience as a screenwriter, director, writer, actor and acting coach. He currently is a talent agent with the Blake Agency.