Some actors go to great lengths to vary their artistic output. Many do not. Is it a good thing if an actor plays the same character over and over?

YES

Many actors end up playing nearly the same role over and over again throughout their entire career. Nicolas Cage always plays a crazy guy, Zooey Deschanel is always a “manic pixie dream girl,” etc. But while this may seem like laziness, it’s not — it’s playing to an actor’s strength.

There’s a reason a lot of actors don’t stretch: Because they can’t. They’ve got their niche, and they’re wasted outside of it. Consider Michael Cera, who’s been playing the same role — and playing it well — for a decade.

He tried coloring outside the lines in 2009’s Youth in Revolt, which saw him playing not only his usual nebbish dweeb, but also an alter-ego: a countercultural type with a pencil-thin moustache and a French New Wave fashion sense.

He was laughably unconvincing. Dressing him up like Jean-Paul Belmondo couldn’t hide the fact that it was little George Michael Bluth under there. Cast him as a stammering nerd, and he’ll make it work; ask him to play a rakish tough guy, and it suddenly seems like playacting.

Every actor, even great ones, has his or her limits. There’s a reason Robert De Niro isn’t known for playing outgoing eccentrics — it’s outside his range. Even relatively versatile actors such as De Niro can only go so far, and asking them to push themselves beyond it is a recipe for disaster. Matthew McConaughey would be about as convincing as a frumpy everyman as Dustin Hoffman would be as a bodybuilder or Vin Diesel would be as a Nobel laureate.

And most actors get typecast in a certain role because they’re so damn good at playing it. Who would even want to see a restrained, even-keeled Cage performance? Give the man his bailiwick; let him scream and hoot and howl at the moon. He’s good at it. The man doesn’t just chew scenery, he eviscerates it.

Good actors can find variations within their persona, too. Being cast in a similar role doesn’t necessarily require repeating the same performance. The Bill Murray of Ghostbusters and the Bill Murray of Rushmore are broadly similar — deadpan, sardonic, underplayed, witty — yet totally different in the specifics. The former is a caddish smart-ass, the latter an achingly sad tycoon. They’re both examples of Murray’s “type,” but played once for comedy, once for tragedy.

So let the actors that can stretch, stretch. And let those that can’t keep playing the roles they’re capable of playing. You wouldn’t ask Albert Pujols to pitch Game 7, so don’t ask Sylvester Stallone to play an intellectual.

— Robert Gifford

NO

It’s hard for an actor to show his or her versatility after being pigeonholed into a particular role, but there’s a way audiences can help them escape the shackles of typecasting.

Zooey Deschanel has captivated America with her big blue eyes, approachable cuteness and impeccable comedic timing. The recent obsession with her is probably due to the success of New Girl, her new Fox sitcom, where she plays Summer Finn, a quirky free spirit who helps a greeting card writer find the joy in life. Actually, no, that’s the plot to (500) Days of Summer. In New Girl, Deschanel plays Jess Day, a quirky free spirit who helps her three male roommates find joy in life. Can you see where someone might confuse those two characters?

Hollywood is overflowing with hopelessly typecast actors like Deschanel. Has Samuel L. Jackson ever played a character who isn’t a cool badass with a knack for swearing? What about Michelle Rodriguez, who is always the tough tomboy with an affinity for guns? Even George Clooney, a respected member of the Hollywood elite, is rarely anything but a smug charmer whose charisma is usually a front for deeper emotional issues.

Even if an actor shows promise playing a particular role, typecasting can only occur if the project makes money. Jim Carrey tried to branch out from his usual goofy persona in films such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but it grossed only $34 million. In contrast, audiences flocked to theaters to see him make funny faces and noises in Bruce Almighty, which made  $243 million.

The market spoke, and it said that moviegoers don’t want to see Carrey in anything that doesn’t involve him making broad jokes and learning valuable lessons. Actors will never be willing to stretch themselves or try something new if they don’t trust their fans to reward their efforts. This is the reason that some people think Hollywood is losing its creative edge; it keeps churning out entertainment that the studios know will play well with audiences based on their expectations of the people involved.

It’s time to start demanding that actors take more risks and start playing different characters. You can do this by refusing to give them your money when all they offer is more of the same.

An experiment: Unless you hear that the stars have managed to transcend their usual roles, don’t go see Julia “Strong But Vulnerable” Roberts and Ryan “Friend With Great Abs” Reynolds in Fireflies in the Garden when it’s released Friday. Maybe they’ll have to start pushing themselves as actors to earn our money, as it should be.

— Joshua Axelrod

rgifford@umdbk.com,

diversions@umdbk.com