The single most concentrated dose of Method-influenced British acting can be found in the work of director Mike Leigh, which derives from caricature and sketch-style revue. The techniques Leigh has been using for years -- giving his actors information on their characters and then creating the scenes of his films based on the improvisations they create -- are very nearly Method. The best performances in his later films -- Jane Horrocks in "Life Is Sweet," Brenda Blethyn in "Secrets and Lies," Timothy Spall in "All or Nothing" -- straddle caricature and naturalism.

Even though it falls apart midway through, Leigh's latest film, "Vera Drake," is stuffed to bursting with good acting. Leigh's caricature can fall into crudeness when he doesn't like one of the characters he's put on-screen (as with Heather Craney's grasping bourgeois housewife). But he's also capable of making caricature subtle and delicate, as in the performances of Alex Kelly and Eddie Marsan who, as a courting couple, are like shy young versions of Peggotty and Barkis from "David Copperfield."

And the performances of Imelda Staunton in "Vera Drake's" title role and the marvelous, long-faced Phil Davis as her devoted husband, Stan, are very hard to imagine without the naturalistic traditions of the Method behind them. Much of what they do consists of the most banal tasks -- greeting each other when they return home in the evening; having their supper; sitting in the cramped parlor while Stan reads the paper or listens to the wireless and Vera tends to some household task. But everything is believable, at home in their tiny London apartment and with each other. Davis and Staunton create the characters from the inside out, connect each moment to every other moment, make these people part of a believable world.

That's a brief but fair description of what the still misunderstood aims of Method acting are. Just how commonly misunderstood is evident in a story about Liam Neeson that recently appeared in the New York Times. "Mr. Neeson is no Method actor," writes Dinitia Smith who then quotes Neeson to illustrate the claim: "I do believe at the end of the night when you're with your family the character gets hung up on the door like a coat, and is there to be taken on the next morning." This is the common misconception that Method acting means "becoming your character."

No. Becoming your character is schizophrenia. In spite of the Freudian conjuring that Method acting is presumed to be half of the time, or the self-indulgence it's presumed to be the other half, much of Method acting is just common sense. The Method is a means for realizing that the character you are playing has a history, both immediate and long-term, and bringing that history to bear on the performance, in the same way that all of us carry our experience with us in everything we do.

For instance, a man walks into a room from outside. A Method actor would ask, Where is the man coming from? How did he get here? Did he drive? Was there traffic? Did he walk? How far? Is it cold or hot out? Is this his home? Who else is in the room? Is the man glad to see those people or not? Is he alone? Is he expecting someone? All of those things affect how we would walk into a room in real life. The Method argues they should be no less considered when playing a character. In the most simplistic terms, it's building a character from the inside out, finding an internal logic for external action.

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