One of the most fascinating things about Simon Russell Beale, the man The New York Times referred to as "perhaps the greatest stage actor of his generation," is that he simply cannot sit still. As he talks, listens, and thinks, he is in perpetual, seemingly unconscious motion: tugging at his beard, rubbing his hands together, crossing and recrossing his legs, scratching his nose, flexing his wrists, leaning forward and back. This fidgeting is not from discomfort or tension, however; he appears completely relaxed and engaged. Perhaps he is just so used to using his body expressively, so attuned to physical sensation, and so charged with life that he needs a physical outlet. He seems to radiate energy even in the fleeting moments he is still.

Simon Russell Beale Photo by Jessica Katz

The Drama Division was privileged enough to receive some of his energy and wisdom on February 27, when Beale visited Juilliard to speak to the drama students. This privilege was the result of an entirely serendipitous meeting on a subway with Michael Kahn, the Drama Division's director. Kahn had just seen Beale's portrayal of the pompous, yellow-sock-wearing servant Malvolio in BAM's acclaimed production of Twelfth Night, directed by Sam Mendes. Twelfth Night, an import from Britain's Donmar Warehouse, was being performed in repertory with Uncle Vanya, by Anton Chekhov, in which Beale plays the despairing, inept title role. The two men got to talking, and Kahn invited him to Juilliard to speak about his experience, both with these specific works and in his long, illustrious stage career.

Despite his accomplishments in the London theater, particularly with Shakespeare, Beale is not a household name--largely because he has stuck entirely to theater, not delving into the media of film and television like so many other theater-bred actors. When a Juilliard student asked why, he replied: "I was one of the last people to come up through the ranks at the Royal Shakespeare Company's theater; I was there for eight years, very unfashionable. But I loved being part of an ensemble, never really wanted to freelance. I found the companionship aspect terribly attractive, loved the security of not having to wonder where my next project was coming from. And the parts just kept getting better! I was working with the greatest writers ever; I saw no reason to leave." He has certainly tackled some of the greatest roles; among those he spoke about were Oswald in Ghosts, Voltaire in Candide, Ariel in The Tempest, Kostya in The Seagull ("that changed my life"), Richard III, Hamlet, Iago, and now Vanya and Malvolio.

For this event, Michael Kahn interviewed Beale, opening with some broad questions about his theatrical training. Beale shared the fact that he had never expected to be an actor. Indeed, he got a degree in English, toyed with the idea of being an investment banker--"an extraordinary aberration"--and ended up studying singing in a school that he said was "much like Juilliard," in that it trained artists of all disciplines. "So there I was, studying voice, and not terribly good at it, really, and knowing that on the other side of the school there were people doing something I knew I wanted." He wangled his way into the drama department (despite what he says was "an appalling audition") and never looked back. Like many artists, he speaks of acting as a sort of destined path, although "that funny seed in the back of my head took a long time to come to fruition."

Unfortunately, he hated drama school, and left "under a cloud"--the school would not even acknowledge him as an alumnus until 10 years later (that earned a big laugh from the Juilliard audience and a wry smile from Kahn)--but speaks of his time at the R.S.C. as his best education. And he certainly relies on his experience with academia in his approach to theater; when asked about his artistic process, he responded, "Well, I'm fairly puritanical, you know. I was trained in a puritanical, literary criticism school, trained to never, ever, ever make a statement that couldn't be supported by text, and I carried that into the work with text. I see text work as three-dimensional literary criticism. Acting is creating an argument, and to do that, you need to get it all from the texts, to treat them with care and respect... A lot of the work I do in my rehearsal process is not on the floor. I spend a lot of time around the table, thrashing it out. I really find academic study emotionally exciting."

Beale carries over this line of thought when he is asked to elaborate on an earlier statement about "connecting the dots" in Shakespearean work: "It's extremely important not to get scared off by the language ... each character speaks exactly how they should according to who they are, so each Shakespearean character is equally articulate. You find the clues in what they say and how they speak, and you can often figure out the rest. In Shakespeare, language and emotional life are one and the same; the emotional landscape of a character cannot exist separately from the way they speak."

The conversation moved quickly to plays and roles he had tackled--specifically the works of Chekhov and Shakespeare, the two playwrights with whom he is currently absorbed (and the first two that first-year Juilliard drama students tackle in their class and rehearsal work). Beale makes the interesting assertion that Chekhov was the best playwright of all time and Shakespeare the best genius--for, although Shakespeare's work is so beautifully rich and transcendent, it's Chekhov who was the master of fully creating the world of a play and the life of a character and remaining entirely consistent and true to it. "He simply doesn't make a mistake."

But Beale spends the most time talking about his acclaimed performance as Hamlet several years ago. The piece was a challenge and a turning point for him in many ways. First, he said, it is perhaps the most challenging and richest role in all of theatrical literature; second, as a pudgy "character" actor, he was cast against the usual Hamlet "type"; and third, the play, which deals so famously with the mother-son relationship, came right after the actor's own mother had died. That fact, and the director's vision of the play as a story of failed love and Hamlet as a man "continually willing to love and be loved but continually disappointed by others," made the play a deeply personal experience for him. "I never found Hamlet bitter. I fell in love with him, absolutely fell in love with him. I never found him a bit self-involved; I thought he was just gorgeous. It was really marvelous to play him: I got to stand onstage and just be a simple human being. That's what he is really, at the end: just a simple human being, completely exposed. And to be that before an audience--you're saying to the audience, 'I am the person that I am.' And how wonderful to sort of be able to say to the audience, 'It's going to be alright.'"

"You musn't be frightened of human contradiction; it's what makes things interesting," he continued. "I've learned, largely over playing Hamlet, that human beings are completely contradictory creatures. I used to be very, very precise, to make very clear-cut choices about every line and every motivation, but I found that humans often are really thinking three completely contradictory things at the same time, which allows me to be looser, softer."

Fielding some other questions about his life and work, he disclosed that American audiences are quicker and more responsive to language than British ones (who knew?); that he has never worked with a single American actor ("That's appalling. Sorry. I'm not usually lost for words... "); and that, having played five syphilitics, he is a "world expert. All my family, many of whom are doctors--this is true--come to me for advice about syphilis."

Michael Kahn had a final question: "How has your acting changed over the last 20 years?"

Beale thinks, scratches his ear, tilts his head back, and runs his hands along the arms of his chair and down his legs. "To be perfectly honest," he says, "and talking absolutely personally, if one of your parents dies, a parent you're really close to, and you, at the same time, are going to be doing the greatest expression of human grief ever written, something happens. I'm not so afraid anymore. I don't have to have everything set down; I'm not so afraid to leave questions unanswered."

Anna O'Donogue is a first-year drama student.