The actor must simultaneously be themselves and embody the character — this dual existence is the core craft problem. Neither pure imitation nor pure identification works.
The actor faces an unsolvable equation: they must be present and disappear simultaneously. This tension lies at the core of every genuine acting performance—and it cannot be resolved theoretically, only managed through craft.
Anyone working as a director notices this immediately on set. The performer cannot simply lose themselves in the character—then we lose the person behind them, the presence, the authenticity. Conversely, someone who remains constantly visible, observing themselves, appears affected and contrived. The audience senses the effort. The solution lies not in one direction or the other, but in the controlled tension between both poles.
In practice, this means: a good actor needs inner freedom and external control simultaneously. They improvise from an emotional truth—that is, identification with the character—but know precisely where the camera is, which edge of the light they must not cross, where the next mark is. In the same moment, they live the scene and observe themselves doing so. Some call this 'dual consciousness', others say 'controlled presence'.
The director can support or sabotage this process. Giving too many technical instructions ('two steps left, look at the lamp') stifles the inner truth. Working only emotionally and ignoring technical realities yields something true, but unusable. The best work arises when the actor knows what the character is fighting for and what they feel—and the director makes the external form as fluid as possible so that this inner truth shines through.
The paradox remains. But it is a productive paradox—precisely where these two forces rub against each other, the tension that the audience feels is created. An actor who cannot bear this contradiction will become either performative or affected. An actor who masters it becomes unforgettable.