In The Truman Show, thousands of people act out a fake city environment for Truman Burbank to live in. Since he’s the only one not in on the joke, recording his life makes for some fantastic TV. But, sometimes, people can’t help themselves and break character.
As it slowly dawns on Truman that something’s amiss, he confronts his wife Meryl, a key player in nudging the Truman Show to ever higher ratings. He threatens her in attempt to get to the truth, and the actress playing Meryl, who goes by the name of “Hannah” in the movie,” gets scared. At one point, she directly turns to one of the cameras and screams: “Do something!”
While this further confirms Truman’s suspicions, it also does bring in the cavalry: Marlon, Truman’s “best friend” of many years, who rarely fails to calm him down and smooth things over for the millions of viewers around the world.
Fear is the most obvious lever to make us forget our roles in life, but it’s far from the only one. And while Hannah’s on-screen deviation was in the movie’s script, other moments were not—yet they made for some of the best scenes.
Truman Burbank is played by Jim Carrey, an actor famous for losing himself so much in his roles he has a hard time turning his characters off when he’s not on set. Yet, it was what Jim brought to Truman that really made the figure stand out. Like the moment he draws a spacesuit on his bathroom mirror and puts his face into the helmet. Or his catchphrase: “Good morning! And in case I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening and good night.” Both were completely improvised by Carrey.
Lately, I’ve been dreaming about high school a lot. In those dreams, I usually have conversations with my teachers. We talk about the value of textbooks, what their hobbies are, and what else they’ve got going on outside of school. High school teachers are perhaps most affected by “character syndrome.” As a teenager, I only ever thought of them as teachers. I thought they were teachers not just in the classroom, but at the grocery store, while driving, and while sitting at the dinner table. As if their khakis and knitted sweaters never came off.
Most of my teachers were also keen on playing their roles well. They didn’t reveal a lot of personal information. They may have feared it could make them vulnerable or damage their function as a role model. But some did, and those were often the most liked—yet also often not the best teachers when it came to the subject material.
In hindsight, for most of them, I can only wonder: Who were they really? Maybe this wonder is fueling my dreams.
Finally, I’ve noticed that work can also be The Truman Show—except everyone is both Truman and an actor in another Truman’s life. To you, everyone else is just “their role” most of the time. But you know all your off-screen ideals, emotions, and struggles. Sometimes, one of those breaks through for others, and it almost feels like a shock. “My father-in-law has cancer.” “I decided to move countries to protect my kids.” “I lost my sense of smell as a teenager.” I’ve heard colleagues say all of these things.
It’s tough to admit, but we forget. Deep down, you go, “Damn, that’s a person talking to me right now.” And thank god for these reminders. They’re usually a preview of the best that is yet to come.
Whether in movies, schools, or companies: In the end, roles are played by people, not actors, and it’s our humanity that makes us exceptional at what we do—never the other way around.
