Interview: Aaron Cammack Talks Acting, Recovery, and New Role at Arizona Theatre Company

Far be it from me to suggest that aspiring actors curb their ambitions, but allow me to submit a cordial disclaimer: Not everyone gets to enjoy a professional career just because they dream it.

The industry is fraught with ruthless uncertainty, a crucible ill-suited for the easily dismayed. Best-case scenario: You're a unique talent born into a producer's studio. The rest of us — well, we saddle up and tilt at windmills to secure an audition.

I exaggerate, but you get the point -- talent alone doesn't cut it. In this saturated enterprise, your dream demands relentless perseverance, industry connections, and the proverbial alignment of stars.

Another challenge that rarely prompts a meaningful dialogue is an actor's peripatetic order of business. Unlike most jobs with stable locations, acting requires an itinerant lifestyle; one must go where the job is, often leading to a nomadic existence. One day, you're employed; another day, you're at a cattle call for ensemble tryouts.

It's a familiar narrative -- countless performers resorting to menial odd jobs, enduring the uphill battle for an elusive goal. For reasons none of us are qualified to judge, many gifted actors concede the struggle and redirect their effort into something appreciably concrete, albeit less romantic.

Aaron Cammack, an Arizona actor, has navigated a multitude of personal setbacks, proving his character in a career that demands inexorable resilience. The newly minted, 2024-2025 Resident Artist at Arizona Theatre Company treads the boards on stages big and small. Aaron stays sharp and ready, undertaking everything from experimental two-handers in a 90-seat house to full-blown classic musicals, TV, and feature films. His prodigious talent is matched by a consummate focus on his craft. It's only a matter of time before he sets foot on a Broadway stage.

Aaron manages a trip out of town between productions for a television project, like last year's assignment in Tuscany, Italy: A Broad Abroad. Blessed with exceptional talent, Aaron navigates the theater and the silver screen with his uncommon blend of fire and humility.

The part about humility is poignant. Aaron's artistic journey coincides with a profound personal challenge: his battle with and ongoing recovery from drug addiction. His story is one of tenacity and hope, a testament to an indomitable spirit, and a source of inspiration for his peers and audiences. As the State's premier LORT institution that attracts Equity performers nationwide, Arizona Theatre Company has made good on its promise to recognize local talent.  

I worked as a director on one of Aaron's recent plays, and I can attest to his professional ethos and genuine humanity. Below is an excerpt from our interview.

Talk about the genesis of your journey as an actor.

I always had a lot of energy. When you're a little kid, parents sometimes say, "Please don't egg him on." I was that kid. My parents were always telling people, "If you're gonna give him some attention, he's gonna keep it." I think I always just had a flair for it.

"Be careful what you ask for."

Right, exactly. But I didn't see acting as a legitimate career path. We moved a lot (primarily in rural areas).  It wasn't until my high school teacher, Ms. Wiley, in Lubbock, Texas, introduced me to those golden-age teachers—Stanislavski, Chekhov, Strasberg, Meisner, and Adler —WOW! I tore through those books she gave me. From then on, I knew what I wanted to do.

And you didn't know exactly what kind of future that might be.

Yeah. I didn't know if I could and if I was any good at all. [There were] good schools that I couldn't afford to attend, so I went to a very small school in Corpus Christi, Texas -- in-state tuition -- and it was a great program in that we were afforded so many chances to get up on stage. Just churning out production after production. I got lots of reps at TAMUCC (Texas A&M University - Corpus Christ).

Are you a native Texan?

I lived in Texas as of my junior year in high school when I met Ms. Wiley. Before that, rural Midwest. I was born in Chicago and lived there until I was about three. And then we bounced all over Nebraska.

Was your dad in the military?

A brilliant agronomist, a researcher. Kenesaw, Nebraska, was where I spent most of my upbringing -- in a town of 900 people. Out there, theatre is not a thing; it's like an extra EXTRA-curricular activity. The kind of place that calls rehearsals "play practice" and auditions "tryouts."

What was your first meaty role; your first, life-changing theatrical moment?

In my high school, it was a one-act competition. I got to play the narrator in Antigone. At the time, I would plan everything to the T.  "When I say this line, I'm gonna look over my shoulder like that and smolder, then drag on the (fake) cigarette and walk away.

You've also done some film work. Tell me about that.

I've done film. I love theatre so much that it's become my focus. Film is such a visual medium. Not saying anything original here, but being in the room with the audience is incredible. Theatre is a celebration of the ephemeral -- that things begin and they end, and if you were fortunate enough to witness the moment, good for you. Life is a gift, just like that. How lucky we are to be here. There's an actor's medium. Film, on the other hand, is such a visual medium.

It's a technician's medium.

Yes, it is. It's an editor's medium, and I have so little control over it, which is fine. It's an exercise in letting go. I enjoy it a lot. It's such a unique and difficult skill set to cultivate because, unlike theatre, where it's all linear and I get the whole show to reach the climactic moment...you gotta come ready.

Where do you find the biggest challenge in terms of transition?

It feels less personal and less collaborative. It is so organized, but as far as actors go, it is so "siloed." You know, I show up, and I do my job. The people I meet are the people I'm on camera with, and the director, hair/makeup, and that's it. I don't meet some of the cast sometimes. If it's a big movie, you won't meet everybody. I just got off the set on an exciting project, a SAG feature that shot out in Washington. A beautiful project directed by the fabulous Jo Rochelle, TV writer for Hulu's "Good Trouble"-- but like I said, I met four of the actors out of a cast of upwards of 40, and that was it.

Then, you have to make stylistic and technical adjustments on the fly.

The camera is a magnifying glass. If you're a good actor on stage, you'll be a good actor on camera. If you think you're a good actor on stage, though, and the camera tells you otherwise, it's just the magnifying glass dropping you a hint about your work on stage. [But] because film is such a visual medium if you stay focused on the same things you focus on when you're on stage, it won't work. If I'm in a house of 800 people, my focus is on the language, among other things. It has to be so precise so that [so and so] can hear me in the back. But if I have that kind of preoccupation with what I'm saying on camera --because we're magnified -- it doesn't read. In theatre, actors have to make sure things happen. In film, actors have to get out of the way and let things happen.

The bottom line is to come across as honest and believable.

Exactly. My job as an actor is to adopt the thinking of my role. I need to think like that person. You know, the technical considerations for film and theatre in pursuit of that goal (of adopting the thought life of my character) are just different.

Theatre has a significant component of repetition. Doing the show eight times a week brings an element of growth; one gets deeper with every performance, no longer thinking as an actor but as an authentic character. You don't always get that in film.

No, you don't. That's why the actors everybody admires and are popular—like Cillian Murphy—are such a force. They trained in theatre. Daniel Day-Lewis and Meryl Streep are people we pay big money to see because they're unpredictable, they're transformative. People like that don't just take one class and get up there and "feel it." They are craftsmen who've been working on this deeply for a long time. They know how to prepare.

I tell my teenage students that theatre prepares an actor, regardless of the medium.

Yeah. Preparation doesn't depend on the medium as much as it depends on the role. It comes from training and practical experience. I'm not of the opinion that you should have a "scarcity mindset" and accept every opportunity all the time. Because then you'll be entrenched in bad habits, and you'll buy into the idea that acting is something anyone can just get up and do well. Acting is really hard work. Just because we make it look easy doesn't mean it's easy. Anyway, an actor needs to get feedback from a trusted resource.

You mentioned Streep and Murphy and others. Any particular actor, director, or teacher you've worked with who's made an impact?

Absolutely—Kathryn Gately. She worked under Sanford Meisner for a very long time, first as an actor and then trained to become a teacher of his system. I went to her conservatory immediately after undergrad in Chicago. She remains the most influential teacher I've ever had, whose encouragement and instructions remain. She instilled reverence for the work and wonder about the world.

You also coach actors in Tucson and Phoenix and have some clients in New York. How does the Meisner training inform your approach to students? 

When I'm coaching, I don't come in with, "I'm gonna force-feed this person." I've got an eclectic training background, and I use it to reach an actor in whatever way will work safely. You integrate all these lessons and find ways to reach that actor -- without naming the technique. It's not a one-size-fits-all. It's finding a way to help somebody move the needle, what I perceive to be their blindspots, because we all have them as actors.

How comfortable are you talking about recovery?

Very comfortable! It's my story. And it's the reason I'm here.

What role, if any, did your career play in your struggle with addiction?

I started using and drinking in a problematic way around the same time I started getting the hang of this. The timing was interesting because I started attributing my success to my using and drinking. I thought that because I was deliberately putting my body through this abuse, I was able to access a deeper, darker side. It seemed to signal that I was going down the correct path. I started to theorize in my young mind that by experiencing real pain, by manufacturing my own misery, I could bring what I field-tested and gathered as data and put it on stage for people.

I assume you weren't doing that consciously. Were you aware that you were making that connection? 

I wasn't exacerbating my substance use deliberately. But as I was experimenting with harder substances, more and more serious things, I was always in the back of my mind: What can I use here? I was always gathering information. Or so I thought.

At what point did you realize the need for recovery?

Recovery begins for everybody in a cumulative way. An accumulation of events eventually led me to a place where I was willing to acknowledge that I needed help. For a long time, I didn't think it was something I couldn't take care of myself if I wanted to. Over time, I learned to attach my sense of identity to the use of drugs and drinking. I felt that if I took it away, I wouldn't be able to act. I wouldn't be Aaron. But the accumulation of things was dramatic. I experienced the loss of opportunities in my career path. I felt the loss of education opportunities. Eventually, I started seeing more and more consequences to the point where things got very serious. Everything was taken away from me. It was all that -- and repelling the people who loved me the most. Watching them all go away, I finally found myself in a position where I was willing to say, "Okay, I need help. I need desperate help because I'm not going to survive."

What support systems were crucial to your recovery? Did you seek out the 12-step program?

Tell me what the job of artist-in-residence entails.

Does the role have an outreach component, then?

I have one final question. Backtracking to recovery as a catalyst in your work as a full-time artist: What advice would you give to others in the industry who might be facing similar challenges? 

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