Consider that in the theater in which people are trying immortality, the success comes in different forms. Each form of success has a particular form, a specific kind of potential compromise. That is not to say that no one succeeds: everyone succeeds to some degree. So what I am saying is that there are two major factors: Success and Compromise. Nor do we say that it is that one exists without the other: instead, there is some similarity between one and the other, although ultimately only compromise is dispensable. But, as I will explain later, you should not confuse success with compromise, because the two are not identical. But, I will argue, each of the entities present in the theatrical production is a form of advantage in seeking immortality.
Consider first the stage crew, who dress in black and move props back and forth during www.haytheatre.com intermissions in the performances. Clearly these are (initially) the most compromised people, but they are also the most conservative. There is an impression that they could have just walked in from the street. They are like programs, they are not like actors. Where they have compromised to conform with the rules, the scene, and the importance of actors, they have also made a conservative principle to only appear when there is minimal risk of folly. In some sense, these are the most wise, that is, if wisdom means conservatism. But at the same time they lack control; It appears that they have compromised for the good or evil of other people. In this sense, their success and failure is combined in one principle: Contingency.
Next, the actors. The actors must succeed exclusively. Their principle is to wear a mask, and to make the mask succeed where otherwise there might be failure. It is like an illusion, but it is possible that with a little complexity, they might succeed in public and fail in private. Sometimes this even becomes part of the aura of the mask. However, if they were true failures in public, this would not spell successful nuances of character. Instead, it would be good luck at its best. The tradition of the actor measures things like luck, nuance, and the mask, so that it may be concluded that the principle of the actor is, in simple terms, merely an absence of compromise. But actors do not walk in from the street. They are involved in a specific production, which responds to more specific demands than those placed upon the prop people. While there is greater risk, there is also greater creativity. It is this character of risk and creativity which corresponds most directly to an absence of compromise, but little more.
Now, the audience. Although the audience is trapped to have just one experience, and not largely to interact in the manner that has been made famous about dinner parties, tea ceremonies, and weddings, there is a great deal of trapped energy which characterizes this nature of being the audience , a trapped energy which in an ideal sense could be construed to have a purpose. The audience is, as it were, waiting for a realization, a paroxysm, an element, a conducement (conduction), which it has been inscribed to be the sole duty of the audience to perform. In this sense, the audience’s purpose is to be psychic, to over-interpret, to deduce value, and to ‘carry the actors on their shoulders’. These purposes are not merely an absence of compromise, but rather a bartering of compromise for something more difficult, and yet highly rewarding. But it is worth underscoring that what I mean by this ‘prize of prizes’ is merely the psychic; it is not always attainable.
Finally, what is missing from this ‘tableau’? The Director: famously directors are intermediaries between the actors and the audience; but this may not be an obvious role. The difficulty in being the director is that he is still an actor, only a very accomplished one. The role of the director is to secure a ‘Form’ for others purposes, emotions, and projects, in a way that still succeeds as a performance. He is, in some sense a ‘psychic actor,’ but at the same time he has the conservatism of stage crew in a developed form, in a form which IS in some sense, the lifeblood of the people, perhaps even the audience. The Director has in front of him a kind of dynamo, a myth or institution which he needs to operate with some momentum: it is an act of stealth-energy and psychic-conservation, but where does this energy come from? At some point we must realize that there is a fixed position to which all of this refers. There is a law, a formula, behind all the bastards.
As it turns out, one potential law comes from the script writer. The script writer is the lawyer. But he is also the gambler: he doesn’t know if he is relevant, he doesn’t know if he is being stealthy. He doesn’t know if he is a victim or a prophet or a mothball or a saint. He is like a child. The script writer determines much of the endeavor of theatre, but it is a populist front. There are many scriptwri.