“Help! My Actors Are Just Standing There!” — A Practical, Passionate Guide to Blocking

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

Let’s just say it. A scene where everyone stands around talking is a fast way to lose an audience. We’ve all seen it. The energy drains out of the room, the stakes flatten, and suddenly you can feel people shifting in their seats. Not because the writing is bad, but because nothing is moving.

Blocking isn’t about traffic control. It’s not about making sure no one bumps into a couch. It’s about giving the scene a pulse. It’s how the story shows up in the space.

And if you’re a director staring at a script thinking, “Why does this feel impossible,” that’s normal. It doesn’t mean you don’t know what you’re doing. It just means the scene hasn’t revealed itself yet.

Start with what the scene wants.

Before you tell anyone where to stand, ask yourself what’s actually happening here. Who wants something. Who doesn’t. Who’s pretending not to care. Who’s winning. Who’s losing. If you can’t answer that, no amount of clever staging is going to save you.

Blocking comes from intention, not geometry. The movement should be a response to pressure. When something shifts emotionally, the body reacts. That’s the stuff you’re looking for.

Let the actors show you first.

Instead of dictating movement right away, get the scene on its feet and see what happens. Read it. Walk it. Let them follow their instincts. Someone turns away because it’s too much. Someone moves closer because they’re desperate. Someone sits because standing suddenly feels exposed.

A lot of the best blocking I’ve ever seen came from watching an actor do something honest and saying, “Yeah. That. Keep that.”

Your job isn’t to control every step. It’s to notice what’s true and shape it.

If someone moves, it should matter.

Movement for the sake of movement just feels busy. Audiences can smell it. If a character crosses the stage, something should have changed. If they sit, it should say something about where they’re at. Power. Fear. Comfort. Defeat.

Nothing should be random. Blocking is physical storytelling. Every move is a sentence.

Use the space like it means something.

Levels matter. Distance matters. Who’s standing. Who’s sitting. Who’s alone. Who’s invading someone else’s space. All of that tells a story before a word is spoken.

And don’t forget stillness. Sometimes the strongest choice is letting a character stay exactly where they are while everything else shifts around them.

This is where subtext becomes visible.

Yes, staging rules exist. No, they’re not sacred.

Of course sightlines matter. Of course you don’t want people turning their backs for no reason. But if following a rule kills the emotional truth of the moment, the rule loses.

Make the choice that feels right first. Then adjust it so the audience can see it. That’s the balance.

Keep rehearsing the why.

Blocking doesn’t stick because someone memorized it. It sticks because it makes sense emotionally. If an actor forgets where they’re supposed to go, it’s usually because the reason got lost.

Actors don’t move because you told them to. They move because something inside them changed. Keep reconnecting the movement to the moment, and the scene stays alive.

And please, don’t direct from your chair.

Get up. Be in it. Stand next to them. Feel the room. You miss too much when you’re planted in one spot with a notebook and a coffee.

Theatre is physical. Direction should be too.

Blocking is messy. It’s trial and error. It’s watching something fall flat and adjusting. It’s half instinct, half problem-solving. And when it clicks, it’s magic.

Trust the story. Trust the actors. The rest will take care of itself.