The Central Question
In Actors on Actors, Anne Hathaway led an intimate interview with fellow actor Jeremy Strong, the man who played Kendall Roy in the HBO hit series, Succession. For his role, Strong won a Primetime Emmy Award, a Golden Globe Award, a Critics’ Choice Movie Award, and two Screen Actors Guild Awards. But earlier in his career, despite working so hard for almost his entire life—acting in community theatre, performing in student productions, auditioning for role after role in TV shows, film, and theatre, juggling odd jobs—Strong’s efforts did not pay off, landing him mediocre roles, often taking on parts as unknown characters and having little on-screen time. Curious to understand those low-lying years and how they had shaped him into the world-class actor he is today, Hathaway asked—how did you survive those times? How were you able to get up in the morning knowing you were not progressing in your career? “It’s such a great question,” Strong replied. “It’s sort of the central question: ‘What keeps us going despite the lack of evidence that we’ll have the chances to do the work that we want to do?’” It’s a fine, almost invisible line between chasing your dreams and settling for less—how do you know when to keep trying, when to stop, when to give up on one dream and pursue another? But for Strong, it was clear. “You know,” Strong said in another interview, “I had to accept that my dreams ultimately might not happen the way I wanted them to… And I had to ask myself, ‘Will you still commit to doing it then? Will you still commit to doing it when you realise it’s not going to look the way you imagined it would?’ And I remember feeling, ‘Well, yes! I’m going to commit to it because I enjoy the work, whatever work I can get.’”
Asking ourselves the central question—what keeps us going despite the lack of evidence that we might or might not succeed, but no matter the outcome, you’d commit to it because you love it, because that is what must be done, because that is who you are—that’s the idea for today.
An Unintended Side-effect of One’s Dedication
American TV stations often begin their interviews with psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl by asking him, “Dr. Frankl, your book has become a true bestseller—how do you feel about such success?” Man’s Search for Meaning was first written in nine consecutive days fresh out of a concentration camp and has, as of this writing, sold 16 million copies worldwide and been translated into more than 50 languages, consistently appearing on lists of the most influential books of all time. But when Frankl first wrote it, his intention was based on the central question: I write because I want to share the psychological insights gained from my time in the concentration camp, and to illustrate my belief that man’s search for meaning is the primary motivation that keeps us going in life. And so, Frankl said, “It is both strange and remarkable to me that, among some dozens of books I have authored—precisely this one, which I had intended to be published anonymously… did become a success.” “Don’t aim at success. The more you aim at it and make it a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue, and it only does so as the unintended side-effect of one’s dedication to a cause greater than oneself or as the by-product of one’s surrender…” Success or not, you’d commit to it because you love it, because that is what must be done, because that is who you are. “In the long run,” Frankl said, “success will follow you precisely because you had forgotten to think about it.”
You’re Right… But Guess What?
Canadian filmmaker James Cameron [The Terminator, Aliens, Titanic] met with 20th Century Fox after he submitted a cut of his latest film for approval. There was one part—a three-minute flying scene—that worried the execs. “Why is the flying scene so long?” one executive asked. “It doesn’t advance the narrative or the character.” Fearing it might negatively impact the commercial viability of the film, they wanted him to shorten it or cut it out entirely. “You’re right on every count,” Cameron replied. “You’ve ticked every box, like a good studio executive… But guess what? I want to see it. And if I want to see it, my cognitive leap is there are going to be other people that want to see it.” “Well,” Cameron said in a later interview of Avatar, “it turned out that the flying scene is what the audience loved most, in terms of our exit polling and data gathering.”
You’re Not Going to Cheese Out
Five years after the launch of the first iPod, in 2001, Microsoft released its own portable music player, Zune. But in just two years, its prospects turned bleak. Zune’s market share was less than 5% and was on the trajectory of being discontinued. Steve Jobs, in his typical brutal rhetoric, did not hold back on the reason for its poor performance. “The older I get,” Jobs said, “the more I see how much motivations matter. The Zune was crappy because the people at Microsoft don’t really love music or art the way we do. We won because we personally love music. We made the iPod for ourselves, and when you’re doing something for yourself, or your best friend or family, you’re not going to cheese out. If you don’t love something, you’re not going to go the extra mile, work the extra weekend, challenge the status quo as much.”
It’s Terribly Dangerous
Singer-songwriter David Bowie once spoke about staying true to your creative instincts: “Always remember the reason why you initially started working was that there was something inside yourself that you felt—if you could manifest it in some way—you would understand more about yourself and how you co-exist with the rest of society.” That desire to understand, to express something deeply personal, often begins in quiet solitude—long before success enters the picture. But the world has a way of crowding in. Expectations pile up, from society, from culture, from the version of you that wants to be liked, admired, understood. And so, again, we arrive at the central question: are you doing this because you love it, because it’s what you feel called to do—or because it’s what is expected of you? “I think it’s terribly dangerous for an artist to fulfil other people’s expectations,” Bowie said. “They produce their worst work when they do that.” Success or not, recognition or not, the commitment remains the same. You do the work because you love it. Because that’s what must be done. Because that’s who you are.
