It’s probably the world’s safest statement to say, at this point, that Michael Fassbender is a damn fine actor. He’s been popping up all over the place lately, and I for one have never failed to enjoy his performances. The man has a real talent. And I mean that, in the sense that he is extremely talented at one thing in particular.

Now some of you out there might think that sounds like a criticism. But honestly, that’s ridiculous. I don’t get angry at plumbers when they fail to show diversity in their methods of unclogging drains. No, all I care about is that they remove the suspiciously sticky blockages quickly and effectively, and then leave, so I can get back to washing myself with what is in no way a jar of strawberry jam

I don't really get soap

By the same token, it’s ridiculous getting all sneery at an actor who has a talent for a certain variety of performance, and sticks to what he does well. In part this is because acting is really goddamn hard, and not just because it takes a lot of effort and practice to learn how to express emotion.

Actors on film are being viewed as if under a microscope. In plays, actors ACT in big, noticeable ways, because plays don’t have to look real. In films, actors have to act. They have to be intense rather than noticeable. If an actor behaves as to obviously convey an impression, we know that’s what they’re doing and that one note of artificiality stands out horribly. As such actors on film have to convey exactly the right level of emotion. Their time on set is a constant battle to find the happy medium between too little and too much.

So in essence, they have to do some pretending, but pretend so well that it looks real. And then they have to do that, in surroundings that could not be more artificial. Cameras and microphones are shoved at them from every which way. They are surrounded by blinding lights. And just beyond those, are the people. Not a shadowy audience, but a busy crew they will be personally interacting with for months. And they don’t even have the luxury of imagining them naked, because oftentimes, they are the naked ones.

Pictured: the realisation of exactly how many people just saw his junk

So yeah, acting is basically an average person’s nightmare come to life. And it’s a nightmare that you have to repeat again and again and again. And throughout that, you’re being constantly judged and ordered about by directors, individuals so nitpicky they make Simon Cowell look slightly less critical (though nothing makes him seem like less of an arsehole). And then you have to go to the gym for a few hours, because you’re going through all this effort for an ignorant mob, that couldn’t care less about your artistic ability if you’re not also physically perfect.

That’s not to say that acting isn’t enjoyable. But the fact that it’s so demanding makes criticising an actor for sticking to their guns unfair. As long as he continues delivering that performance with a high level of quality, I have no problem with that. But, it being unfair does not make watching the same thing over and over again any less boring. But this isn’t an actor’s fault either. It’s the folks behind the camera you should blame.

For example, people often discount Michael Cera because he’s always an awkward, sensitive beta-male in everything he’s in, from Arrested Development to Superbad to Juno. Or they did that is, till Scott Pilgrim, where a fair few people, myself included, started spouting off about him having discovered a hidden variety of talent. Which, as I now realise, is bollocks. Michael Cera didn’t change one bit.

Though his performance does have more punch

Cera acts in Scott Pilgrim exactly how he has always acted, carrying himself with a dorkily awkward earnestness. What’s changed is the context. In Juno, Superbad, et al, this behaviour played out in the context of a Mary Sue character, a sweet but awkward ‘Mr Right’ sort of thing. In short, his behaviour is used to justify the attraction to him written into the script. But in Scott Pilgrim that changes. The film recontextualises his behaviour. That awkward earnest dorkyness, instead of being attractive, is used instead to reinforce the immaturity of his character. Edgar Wright uses the same behaviour, but supplies a new context to provide it with a different look. And that’s what Fassbender’s directors do for him.

Look at, for example, three major recent Fassbender roles; Magneto in X-Men: First Class, Brandon in Shame, and Jung in A Dangerous Method, and one thing becomes immediately apparent. For the most part, he does the exact same thing in all of them. In every film, Fassbender acts repressed: charming but in a closed off sort of way. Until that is, some point around the late second to third act, where he will have a little chink open up in that steely visage, and let some inner anguish shine through. This happens every time.

But so far this hasn’t become samey because the film directors re-contextualise it. In X-Men, Fassbender is closed off because Magneto is scarred from torture at the hands of the Nazis. In Shame, he is closed off because Brandon is constantly suppressing and managing an all-consuming addiction. In A Dangerous Method, he is closed off because Jung has fallen into the habit of being clinical about the most emotional of issues, and can’t seem to shake it off.

A conversation between Mortensen and Fassbender about 'anal stages', and just a 15 rating? Cronenberg, you little tease you.

Similar recontextualisation occurs concerning the chink in the emotional armour, but I’m sure you fine and handsome readers get the picture already. Michael Fassbender is a fantastic actor, and just because he delivers the same performance every time does not make him any less of one. And the same goes for all actors with a consistent behavioural style. Criticising an actor for doing the same thing is unfair and ridiculous. Context is not their responsiblity.