It was an unspoken custom on most film sets to never offer an opinion on another actor’s performance. The actor’s work was fiendishly difficult, requiring them to expose themselves in a fashion that nonperformers could only relate to from their sweat‐soaked nightmares, and the effort that went into even the most mediocre performance had to be respected by their fellow practitioners. But the actors on Anchorman had mostly been forged in the white heat of sketch and improv, where performers regularly topped, completed, or added to the work of others, and that spirit carried over to the set of this feature film. This began in McKay’s relationship to the performers. He was present not solely to oversee or to hector but to lead a graduate seminar in the creation of comedy. Every line could be improved or rendered funnier or stranger, and everyone was encouraged to contribute. This spirit of creative generosity came to include all the performers, who embraced the freedom to reimagine the film one line at a time. |
