We’ve all heard the saying “There are no small parts, only small actors,” and if you’re someone who spends a great deal of time on stage, you’ve probably tricked yourself into believing this at one point in your life. You have a particularly small role in a play or a short film or a movie, and you slipped up and said, “Yeah, I got this part, but it’s small,” and someone unleashed a heavenly fire of disappointment on you. You were made to feel bad because you didn’t think your two-line character was essential to the play.
Let me break this down: there are both small parts and small actors. These two are not mutually exclusive. Yes, you are allowed to think that a part you have received is indeed small. Yes, there are small parts that are crucial to the plot of a play, and yes, there are small parts that are so irrelevant that even you forget you played the role.
The premise behind the saying “There are no small parts, only small actors” is that actors should be overjoyed and supremely grateful for every role they get, no matter the size. We should take it as meaning that we deserved whatever part we received, when everyone knows that, in the real world, this is not necessarily true. And don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that every actor deserves a major role or that no one should play small parts or that small parts shouldn’t exist. What I’m saying is that you shouldn’t expect an actor to be okay with a small part because they should be grateful you gave it to them. That’s the equivalent of a gymnast giving it their all in a competition, coming in second place, and you saying, “You should be grateful—at least you got something.” Or a family member dying and you going up to the family of the deceased and saying, “Well, at least you met your uncle—some people never got to see theirs.”
Like, no. Just stop it.
My problem with this saying is not the idea that actors should be grateful for getting work (which, yeah, we should be, to some extent, if we love our craft). My problem is that people use this saying as a way to invalidate an actor’s feelings.
As with any artistic craft, acting can be emotionally taxing. It takes a lot to constantly be putting yourself and your talent out there for others to judge you, audition after audition. When an actor is rejected, our talent is rejected, but because our talent isn’t something tangible, it can sometimes feel as if we, as people, were rejected. And this same ideology goes for dancers, singers, and even musicians.
I was a senior in high school when I auditioned for a role in “The Miracle Worker.” I wanted the part of either Kate or Annie (the two female leads), and I didn’t get either of them. Instead, I was given the small, peanut-gallery, sassy role of Aunt Ev (which I had a problem with for other reasons that I’ll maybe write another article on). I was upset. Not only had I been typecast (once again), it was a small role. Thankfully, no one came up to me and was like, “There are no small parts, only small actors,” because I really can’t tell you what I would have said to them. My point is that I am allowed to feel upset because I did not receive a role that I wanted. Every actor (and every artist) is allowed to be upset when we do not receive the role that we were gunning for. We are allowed to have feelings.
Saying “There are no small parts, only small actors” is your lame attempt at trying to strip us of our right to have feelings like functioning human beings.
And let me also clear this up: being upset about not receiving a role does not mean that we thought that we, and we alone, deserved the role or that we are God’s gift to the acting world. It also does not mean that we think the person who received the role is a bad actor or does not deserve the role. It literally just means that we really wanted the part.
And another thing: thinking a role is small does not mean that we think it to be unimportant, that we are ungrateful, or that we do not want the role. It just means we are aware of its place and significance in the play. Calling a part small is not being bitter, but more as though coming to terms with the fact that out of two hours, we’ll probably speak for maybe two minutes. And we’re okay with that.
So, please, stop walking around thinking that you are humbling us by saying this because, in reality, you’re just pissing us off, and you sound like a jerk. Please and thank you.
