Hamlet Doesn’t Need to Be Sad — Hamlet Needs to Look Sad: Supporting Sustainable Practices in the Performing Arts

There’s a misconception in the performing arts that to create powerful, moving work, you have to suffer for it. That emotional exhaustion is part of the job. That giving your all means giving everything. But that’s not artistry — that’s burnout. And it’s not sustainable.

One of my favourite refrains when teaching, directing, or building movement is: “Hamlet doesn’t need to be sad — Hamlet needs to look sad.” It’s a simple line, but it carries an essential truth: performers are not the roles they play. You don’t have to drag yourself through the emotional trenches to deliver compelling work. What you need are the tools to portray complexity safely and effectively.

Sustainability in performance is about longevity, artistry, and care. It’s not about proving how hard you can work — it’s about building containers that let you keep working.

Here are a few of the strategies I return to again and again:

Set Expectations Early

Whether it’s a traditional script or a devised movement piece, we have to ensure that the time and resources match the task. A movement-heavy piece? It likely needs workshops ahead of rehearsals or extended prep time. An emotionally demanding script? You’ll need boundaries, closure practices, and time to reset. Matching scope to schedule isn’t a luxury — it’s a responsibility.

Structure Rehearsals for Human Bodies

An eight-hour rehearsal day might work on paper, but not in a body. Particularly in dance and movement-based processes, shorter, focused rehearsals — with time for warm-up, cool-down, and rest — are far more effective than pushing to the brink. Respecting the physical and emotional limits of your cast isn’t coddling. It’s craft.

Use Language That Supports Safety

Instead of asking an actor to “act sick,” I’ll describe what that looks like physically: indirect pathways, laboured breath, slower tempo. Instead of labelling a character as “anxious,” I might offer movement qualities like percussiveness, darting eye focus, or bound energy. This creates distance between character and performer — a healthy, helpful distinction — and gives performers something doable, not something felt.

Develop Skill, Not Sacrifice

Creating work that is compelling, precise, and alive doesn’t mean accessing personal trauma. It means learning how to use your body, your breath, your voice, and your imagination with clarity and care. Technique isn’t just for class — it’s what keeps us safe when the stakes are high.

I care deeply about building a performing arts culture where we are both excellent and well. Where rehearsal rooms are places of rigour, joy, and humanity. Where a fulfilling life outside of rehearsal is seen as essential, not optional. Because when we take care of the artist, the art gets better.

Hamlet doesn’t need to be sad. Hamlet needs to look sad. Let’s build processes that let us do the work — without losing ourselves in it.