Yale Faculty Member Says Quit Acting if You Don’t Get into Yale, Juilliard, or NYU. Excuse me?
by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder
On a recent episode of the Harts & Minds podcast, Johnny Wu, a faculty member at the David Geffen Yale School of Drama, offered a piece of advice so arrogant, so dismissive, and so wildly out of touch, it would almost be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous. He said that if students don’t get into NYU, Yale, or Juilliard’s MFA acting programs, they should quit. Quit. As in give up, go home, stop trying. “Because you’re not good enough,” he said.
Excuse me?
What Wu said(which starts at the 46:00 minute mark) wasn’t just flippant. It was cruel. And worse, it was said with the kind of smug confidence that implies this isn’t just one man’s opinion, but an unspoken truth of the industry. That only the chosen few from the “holy trinity” of acting schools deserve to keep going. That, unless you’ve got Tisch or Yale on your résumé, you shouldn’t even bother. I find it ironic that Wu himself didn’t get his MFA from these schools; he got his from UC San Diego(an incredibly strong program) and has had a fine career. So would he tell his 21-year-old self to quit?
Let me be very clear. This is toxic nonsense. This kind of elitism has haunted arts education for far too long, and it needs to be called out for what it is: gatekeeping in a black turtleneck.
The idea that your value as an artist is determined by which school admits you is not only false, it is actively harmful. Because here’s what happens when you believe that: talented, passionate students hear someone like Wu, internalize that rejection means failure, and walk away from a craft that was never meant to be dictated by a single admissions committee. Not everyone is meant to go to Yale or Juilliard, and that does not mean they are not meant to be artists.
Also, let’s talk honestly about the audition process. It is deeply subjective. Sometimes the decision comes down to something as arbitrary as the color of your shirt or the fact that you remind someone of their ex(I’ve witnessed those exact conversations). Maybe the panel was tired. Maybe your reader gave you nothing. Maybe they already had five redheads(Another actual conversation I witnessed for a BFA program). Or maybe you were brilliant, and they just didn't see it. There are so many variables in the room that have nothing to do with talent, work ethic, or potential. To make life-altering decisions based on a single five-minute monologue is ridiculous, and yet that’s what happens every year. The entire process is a crapshoot dressed in expensive headshots.
Theater has always belonged to the rebels, the underdogs, the people who didn’t get picked but showed up anyway. These artists didn’t need a stamp of institutional approval to become icons. And neither do today’s students.
Some people will say Wu is just being honest. That he’s giving students the “real talk” they need. But there is a difference between honesty and harm. There is a difference between giving practical advice and telling someone to quit because a specific door didn’t open. That’s not real talk. That’s lazy talk.
It’s easy to tell someone to quit. It’s harder, and far more generous, to help them reimagine what their path could look like. To say, “Okay, that school said no. What now?” To remind them that talent is not always recognized right away. That success looks different for everyone. That some of the most interesting, compelling actors working today took the long road, the side road, or built their own road entirely.
And let’s not pretend this doesn’t come with privilege. The implication in Wu’s comment is that everyone has the means, the access, the recommendation letters, the financial security to even apply to these schools in the first place. Plenty of brilliant actors never even audition for them because of money, geography, or life circumstances, and they are no less worthy of a career.
Wu may work at Yale, but he doesn’t speak for the entire industry. He doesn’t speak for the directors looking for authenticity over technique. He doesn’t speak for the indie filmmakers who cast based on connection, not pedigree. He doesn’t speak for the audience members who fall in love with a performance, not a résumé. He certainly doesn’t speak for the teachers and mentors out there trying to build students up, not break them down.
So no, don’t quit. Not if you don’t get into Yale. Not if you don’t get into NYU or Juilliard. Not if you get 25 rejections in a row. The only time you should quit is if you decide this path no longer feeds your soul. But if you still have the fire to act, to create, to tell stories, then keep going. Keep going even if people like Johnny Wu think you’re wasting your time. Because the arts don’t need more status-obsessed gatekeepers. They need storytellers. Dreamers. Survivors.
Wu can sit in his ivory tower all he wants. The rest of us will be out here building new spaces. Braver ones. Kinder ones. More inclusive ones. Spaces that make room for more than just the name on your degree.
To be fair, Wu has just apologized for his comments, stating in an Instagram post to his current students, “ I didn’t consider how much I’ve lost until I saw your comments distancing yourselves from me. You are my biggest loss in all of this, especially the ones from this graduating class.”
He further states to aspiring acting students, “(I) realize once again that putting you down and limiting your desire to grow as a storyteller is not the best I can offer you.”