It was the middle of season four of the first show I directed, Lost Angeles. The protagonist had fallen into and out of love with his damsel several times. Obstacles overcome, tender moments had.
We were losing steam. The same lines and punchlines.
I spoke separately with each actor. I told them they would have to step it up. They were the faces of the show, and if anyone was going to believe in us again, it damn well better start with them.
It didn’t come from the writers’ studio, or me, or anyone else. Our stars acted like stars.