Or are they?

If the title of this article grabbed your attention—Great. I hoped it would. Because there’s something on my mind that I’d love for you to weigh in on. Recently, as part of an acting class I’ve been taking, the course leader made a statement I’m not entirely sure I agree with. He said, “All actors are liars. The job of the performer is to convincingly lie in imaginary circumstances.”

Something about this statement inherently bothers me. It rubs against the grain of my very nature, and—I’d argue—is counter to human nature overall.

Rather than lie, I think it is our job to do the exact opposite. I believe that when we perform—whether on stage, on film, or behind a mic—we are being asked to tell the truth. Why? Because truth requires sensitivity. It requires vulnerability and a deep understanding of the human condition. Lying is superficial while truth-telling is subterranean. And I mean that. There is something so much deeper—far beneath the surface—that makes a great performance stand out. Yes, there is a script. And, yes, the situation is entirely imaginary. Whether it is a civil war unfolding on a distant, fictional planet or a private battle against one’s inner demons, every element of a production is crafted. The circumstances may be fabricated, but the performance doesn’t have to be. And it shouldn’t.

Because we, as humans, in all our vast and varied experiences know heartbreak, societal expectation, and triumph to be real.

What makes us feel for the alien race being dominated by their oppressor is not the high-quality special effects, but how human their struggle is. It doesn’t matter that they’re blue or fly on winged creatures that look unlike something we’ve ever seen. We know oppression exists in our world, and we know people suffer from it. We also know it has very real consequences. And when we witness a young girl killed in a needless tournament—a competition meant to maintain the power structure and make a spectacle of sacrifice—we rightfully feel outrage. Because we know grave injustice exists, and that it happens every day. The same is true for the middle-aged woman enduring a loveless marriage, desperate to break free that she may claim her own life. And the Black man who tries to navigate his identity and sexuality in a world of systemic poverty. And the neurodivergent young man who overcomes prejudice and adversity to become the hometown hero. Because we, as humans, in all our vast and varied experiences know heartbreak, societal expectation, and triumph to be real.

Lying, or approaching acting as lying, belittles the truth of each of these situations. It minimizes and dismisses what we—or others different from us—know to be real. Even the best comedy is centered in truth. Because it is the undeniable reality of something so keenly and expertly laid bare, that we cannot help but laugh.

Lies serve an altogether different purpose, which is: the act of making a false statement with the intent to deceive someone And, if you were curious like me, the definition of deception is: the act of making someone believe something that is not true by hiding or distorting the truth. In either definition, deception is the opposite of what the honest actor hopes to achieve. Our goal is not to convince the audience of an untruth, but to make what is true irrefutable.

But what do you think? Is acting lying, telling the truth, and something entirely different?