In directing actors, few tools are as powerful and overlooked as stakes. The idea of "raising the stakes" has become a cliché in screenwriting discussions, but in performance, it is an elemental force that transforms the ordinary into the electric. Stakes are not just about life-and-death situations; they are about deepening an actor’s emotional investment, sharpening their objectives, and creating a performance that feels alive.

Stakes as an Engine of Performance

At its core, stakes answer the question: Why does this moment matter? If a scene lacks stakes, it lacks urgency, and urgency is the actor’s most effective weapon against dull, meandering performance. The key is not merely to raise the stakes arbitrarily but to clarify them—aligning them with the character’s psyche, the moment’s subtext, and the larger thematic structure of the film.

An actor who is given clear stakes understands what they stand to lose, what they stand to gain, and, more importantly, what they fear. The best performances often emerge when an actor is navigating a tension between desire and consequence - the gravitational pull of what they want against the weight of what it will cost them.

High Stakes Are Not Always Loud

A common misconception is that high stakes mean high volume—shouting, crying, grand gestures. But often, the most riveting moments are those where an actor is containing the stakes, where the audience senses an internal war being waged behind the eyes.

Consider Daniel Day-Lewis in Phantom Thread (Anderson, 2017). His portrayal of Reynolds Woodcock is driven by micro-adjustments, the control over his environment mirroring the tight control over his emotions. In the famous breakfast scene, his simmering irritation at the sound of buttering toast is not about the noise—it’s about the intrusion into his meticulously ordered world. The stakes are enormous for him because they threaten his very identity. Yet, rather than exploding, he restrains himself, making his performance unbearably tense.

As a director, your role is to help actors locate the stakes internally. Instead of saying, “This is an important scene,” clarify why it is important to the character. Is it their last chance to be understood? Are they risking humiliation? Are they trying to hold onto control in a crumbling situation? These subtler stakes create performances that feel authentic rather than performed. In order to understand this you need to do your work by undertaking a thorough dramatic breakdown of your scenes during pre-production. Your actors will be doing this and, as a director, it’s your job too.

Psychological Stakes: The Unseen But Felt Pressure

Physical stakes—life, death, financial ruin—are the easiest to grasp, but psychological stakes are often more potent. These are the unseen weights pressing down on a character, the stakes that make small moments seismic.

Take Joaquin Phoenix in You Were Never Really Here (Ramsay, 2017). His character, a traumatized hitman, barely speaks, but the stakes of every moment are crushing. When he hesitates outside a child’s room, unable to enter, we sense his entire past bearing down on him. The stakes are not about immediate survival but about whether he can keep going at all.

One technique to explore psychological stakes with actors is triggered imagery — associating a scene with a personal memory or fear. An actor may not care about a scripted event, but if they link it to a time they were powerless, ashamed, or desperate, their performance becomes visceral. This is especially useful in films where stakes are abstract, such as in surreal or existential narratives. Be considerate with your actors and discuss this with them prior to the scene - such as in rehearsal - so they have an opportunity to consider their personal history without feeling pressured.

Stakes in Silence: When the Unspeakable is Everything

Silence is often where stakes are at their highest. An actor holding back from speaking can create extraordinary tension. Ingmar Bergman was a master of this, particularly in Cries and Whispers (1972), where Harriet Andersson’s performance relies as much on the spaces between words as on the words themselves. Her quiet suffering is amplified because we see what is left unsaid—the things that cannot be voiced but are deeply felt.

Here’s a common simple directing tip that can often bring great results:

Encourage actors to play the opposite of what they feel. A desperate character doesn’t have to plead; they may instead go eerily still. A furious character may smile while their hand tightens. Subtext-driven stakes force the audience to engage actively, heightening immersion.

Stakes as a Moving Target

The greatest performances don’t remain static in their stakes—they evolve, shift, and collapse. One of the reasons Marriage Story (Baumbach, 2019) is so affecting is that the stakes in each scene seem to shift in real-time. Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver play characters who go from trying to keep things civil to barely containing their resentment to revealing their deepest wounds. The stakes are not fixed; they are dynamic, and this makes their performances feel startlingly real.

Encourage actors to explore different levels of stakes in rehearsal. Play a scene where the stakes are casual, then raise them to extreme emotional consequences, then find a middle ground. This elasticity allows actors to discover the edges of their emotional range within the scene, making their performance richer and more layered.

Directing with Stakes in Mind

To guide actors in anchoring stakes:

1. Define What’s At Risk – What does the character stand to lose? If they do nothing, what happens?

2. Personalize the Stakes – Help actors link the stakes to their own experiences, even metaphorically.

3. Use Reversal Techniques – Have actors play against the emotion to create tension.

4. Encourage Subtext – What is the character suppressing? What is unspoken but present?

5. Adjust in Layers – Experiment with raising, lowering, and shifting stakes to find the strongest moments.

Final Thought: Stakes Are What Make Moments Matter

An actor can deliver lines beautifully, but without stakes, they remain just that—lines. The magic happens when an actor is not simply saying words but fighting for something in every moment, when every hesitation, glance, or breath feels loaded with consequence.

Directing with stakes in mind means directing performances that don’t just inform the audience but grip them by the throat. And in the end, isn’t that what cinema is all about?

If you are interested in finding out more about directing actors, check out The Art of Directing Actors workshop.

The Art of Raising the Stakes: Directing Actors for Maximum Impact