The Art of Embracing Yourself: Michael Cyril Creighton on Humor, Vulnerability, and Defying the Norms

When it came to Jack in a Box, it really was a case of "write what you know." I created the web series back in 2009-2013, and it was about a frustrated theater actor who couldn’t get cast and was stuck working at an off-Broadway box office.  At the time, that was exactly who I was—a frustrated theater actor, stuck in that same situation.

So, I drew inspiration from my daily life, turned the volume up, and found the humor in the sadness—and the sadness in the humor. That’s the approach I try to take with everything I am in or create.

That web series taught me how to act on camera and, in a lot of ways, set me up for success. Since then, my approach hasn’t really changed. 99.7% of the time, what I need to make a role work is already there in the writing.

It took a long time to get here, but I truly believe that embracing my identity has been key to my success as an actor. For years, I worried that the very things that made me unique—my size, the sound of my voice, the way I move—were somehow holding me back. I thought those traits were detrimental. But once I started embracing everything that made me, things really started to click, and I began booking work.

I think a lot of actors fall into the same trap I did—approaching roles and auditions by trying to guess what they think they’re supposed to do or what they think casting directors and producers want. That mindset led me to try to squeeze myself into a mold that just wasn’t realistic and felt completely false.

Theater has always been a refuge for me. Even though it’s been a while since I’ve done a play, I still see as much theater and performance as I can. It excites me and keeps me inspired. I mean, why live in New York if you’re not going to soak up all the insane talent on display around every corner, right?

Surprisingly, it’s not intimidating at all—and that’s really a testament to our lead trio, Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez. They set the tone, and it trickles down to everyone. Whether it’s Meryl Streep or a day player with two lines, a director or a production assistant, everyone on that set is treated with kindness and respect.

I’ve learned so many lessons while working on the show, but the most important ones boil down to this: Be kind, be on time, and know your lines. That’s the holy trinity of success on any set.

And personally? I never try to tell a joke unless I know it’s really funny—because that room is already packed with some of the funniest people on the planet.

Well, I do have some pretty great sweaters.

I relate a lot to Howard. He loves animals, he’s tenacious, and he’s determined to be part of the group. He craves attention and validation, and he desperately wants to be really good at something—anything—and he’s willing to fail along the way. Those are all qualities we definitely share. But Howard is a very amped-up version of me. He’s bolder, his emotions are more erratic, and he feels everything on such a huge scale.

Playing him is actually pretty cathartic because those big feelings are so freeing.

The only real challenges have been, well... the yodeling in season 2. Believe it or not, yodeling did not come naturally! And, of course, working with animals brings its own unique set of challenges. So far, I’ve worked with a cat, a kitten, a bird, two dogs, and a pig—and I’ve tried to handle it all with aplomb, even when one peed on me during a scene. Listen, the animals were total pros, but at the end of the day, they’re still animals. They’re gonna do what they want to do, and I just had to roll with it.

I don’t think the line between comedy and tragedy is ever clearly defined, so I try to straddle both whenever I can.

For example, when I worked on Spotlight, I had the privilege of spending time with the man I was portraying, Joe Crowley, before filming. He was a survivor of clergy abuse, which had derailed his life in so many ways. But at the same time, he was one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Both of those truths coexisted. He used humor as a defense mechanism—it was how he coped with the darkness.

How we, as people, navigate the comedy and tragedy of our everyday lives is so personal and deeply human. When I get the chance to explore that dynamic in a role, I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot.

Oh, this is such a great question! I’d love to revisit that web series. So much has changed in the theater world since 2013, when I stopped making the show. It would be fascinating to explore how off-Broadway theater has been affected by the pandemic and the political shifts of the past decade plus.

I think Off-Broadway is in a rebuilding phase—sometimes starting completely from scratch—and there’s so much rich material to mine from that.

Honestly, I think imagination does a lot of the work. I loved playing Patrick on High Maintenance. It was such a great opportunity to show a different side of myself. At that point in my career, people knew I could be funny and sharp, but they hadn’t really seen my vulnerable side. Even though he was a very specific character - an agoraphobic who was obsessed with Helen Hunt and collected La Croix cans - his desire to connect with other humans is a very relatable, universal quality that I think audiences really responded to. Playing him was an absolute dream. And people still really seem to respond to him. Just the other day, I was walking down the street when someone yelled, “La Croix guy!”  That’s me!

I’m so grateful that I’ve had—and still have—the chance to play characters that people connect with and remember. Because, let’s be honest, the alternative—being unappreciated and completely forgotten—is kind of a bummer.

For me, not working and not being creative were never options. I needed both to survive. So, through my 20s and most of my 30s, I held a full-time job while squeezing in every creative opportunity I could around my work schedule. I did plays that rehearsed before or after work, dabbled in stand-up, and hosted all female comedy shows in alternative spaces. I co-wrote plays with friends and staged them in the backs of weird bars. Eventually, I made my web series—before and after work. I stayed really busy and learned a ton from both my successes and failures.

I didn’t spend my 20s waiting for opportunity, because waiting never worked for me. And I’m glad I didn’t, because it wasn’t until I was 30 that I got my first audition for a proper TV show. By then, I’d spent years working my acting muscles in other ways, so I was ready. That audition turned into my first TV job: a small role on an episode of 30 Rock.

I’m no authority on how young actors can build a career, but I do have a few thoughts! Like I mentioned earlier, the most important thing is to embrace who you are, instead of trying to be what you think people want. See as much theater, performance, and art as possible.

Create however you can. Write—even if you think you’re bad at it. Don’t be afraid to fail, and learn from every mistake.

If you don’t get a role you want, give yourself one day to mourn it—then move on! Surround yourself with performers who excite and inspire you. Lift others up—there’s room for everyone.

And most importantly, find joy outside of acting and performing. Even at the most successful level, you won’t get to do your job as much as you’d like. So, it’s really important to have relationships and friendships that bring joy no matter where you are at on this professional roller-coaster ride. Oh, and rescue a dog. Everything’s better with a rescue dog.