Monday, April 26, 2010
I met someone in the Institute today who had seen the play and spoke about how much she loved it.
She spoke with particular warmth of the fact that at the very beginning they had so little space to manoevre, as if they were hemmed in by their life.
But that when death entered the scene, and the screen went back, then it was as if it was only then that life opened up for them.
This struck her as extraordinarily profound.
And I was weak enough, or vain enough, not to disabuse her and say that that was an effect i had not predicted.
But i was right in my way: because a huge part of the skill of writing a play lies in allowing scope for such moments...
She spoke with particular warmth of the fact that at the very beginning they had so little space to manoevre, as if they were hemmed in by their life.
But that when death entered the scene, and the screen went back, then it was as if it was only then that life opened up for them.
This struck her as extraordinarily profound.
And I was weak enough, or vain enough, not to disabuse her and say that that was an effect i had not predicted.
But i was right in my way: because a huge part of the skill of writing a play lies in allowing scope for such moments...
Labels: an unexpected effect
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]