Guy's memories flood back. The audience spurs the scene on. There is not one heart in the house that beats evenly.
1. It's not as if the stage is framed with glass walls. He can easily exit. At least, there are no physical barriers, but it's always a matter of want on the tawdry little stage, and Guy wants. Does he want to leave?
But there is a "physiologicality" to the dimensions. Much more blood is being pumped into Guy's muscles and brain by his heart that is always accelerating to and from a pulse of a calming point of reference. This is, of course, after the release of adrenaline which comes after the stimulation of the adrenal cortex by ACTH to release cortisol (during situations of stress), which increases the expression of PNMT in chromaffin cells, enhancing adrenaline synthesis. His lungs are expanding, pushing down on his stomach so as to take in more oxygen and on and on...calcium through voltage-gated calcium channels...blood... moving fast...Then after reassurance by the crowd (you see this sort of glow on the face of Bogart and Gable) and the surge of confidence in one's own art there comes the suppression of adrenaline by its own intake back up to nerve terminal endings.
Then drunkenness. A swooshed ecstasy that is very much so physical (Newman). A swooning stride, toward the front of the stage (Kelly).
Young opera stars have problems with this. They seem to start walking unnaturally with just a few drops of kind stage lighting. Maestro will tell them: I know that this libretto is thematically elevated and the music touches upon the sublime, but you are supposed to be reflecting REAL struggles within all of us. REAL people do not strut like velvet ghosts in their own houses.
2. Of course they do, from time to time. Guy knows this. He is real, sure, but there are times that call for pretense. Action is done under pretense. Hardly any of them are actually performed raw. Realism is an effort as well. The people are there. Even if they weren't, there is always an audience for Guy. That is why the gears inside Guy's actor head are always turning (Though you do now want for the audience to be able to detect all the mechanisms that go into a performance; during a performance, you do not want people to think to themselves, "Oh, my! That was a great crescendo!" You just want them to feel and register what you have achieved on the whole.)
So they all go through these surges. Glass is there, enclosing the characters there on the stage. Exposed, actors often assume their greatest characters. Exposure hardly ever reveals authenticity. So to the contemporary generation coming up under Guy that craves the "natural" and unaffected "reality" that the stage seems to be missing: (applause)
Guy applauds for his audience. (one plump little plumb of a lady to her husband) Why, this is absurd!
It is not, though. A ingeniously crafted performance of Guy's does not falsely claim to be something it is not (real, the REAL deal, Truth). It is always a performance.
So the audience, as it is being clapped for astoundingly, must decide how it will act. Guy toys with the reversal of roles and now sits down silently on a golden Throne. A golden throne of un-truth and ceremony. He meditates on the stage the theater. On the mark. This is not a monologue. This is a conversation.
1. It's not as if the stage is framed with glass walls. He can easily exit. At least, there are no physical barriers, but it's always a matter of want on the tawdry little stage, and Guy wants. Does he want to leave?
But there is a "physiologicality" to the dimensions. Much more blood is being pumped into Guy's muscles and brain by his heart that is always accelerating to and from a pulse of a calming point of reference. This is, of course, after the release of adrenaline which comes after the stimulation of the adrenal cortex by ACTH to release cortisol (during situations of stress), which increases the expression of PNMT in chromaffin cells, enhancing adrenaline synthesis. His lungs are expanding, pushing down on his stomach so as to take in more oxygen and on and on...calcium through voltage-gated calcium channels...blood... moving fast...Then after reassurance by the crowd (you see this sort of glow on the face of Bogart and Gable) and the surge of confidence in one's own art there comes the suppression of adrenaline by its own intake back up to nerve terminal endings.
Then drunkenness. A swooshed ecstasy that is very much so physical (Newman). A swooning stride, toward the front of the stage (Kelly).
Young opera stars have problems with this. They seem to start walking unnaturally with just a few drops of kind stage lighting. Maestro will tell them: I know that this libretto is thematically elevated and the music touches upon the sublime, but you are supposed to be reflecting REAL struggles within all of us. REAL people do not strut like velvet ghosts in their own houses.
2. Of course they do, from time to time. Guy knows this. He is real, sure, but there are times that call for pretense. Action is done under pretense. Hardly any of them are actually performed raw. Realism is an effort as well. The people are there. Even if they weren't, there is always an audience for Guy. That is why the gears inside Guy's actor head are always turning (Though you do now want for the audience to be able to detect all the mechanisms that go into a performance; during a performance, you do not want people to think to themselves, "Oh, my! That was a great crescendo!" You just want them to feel and register what you have achieved on the whole.)
So they all go through these surges. Glass is there, enclosing the characters there on the stage. Exposed, actors often assume their greatest characters. Exposure hardly ever reveals authenticity. So to the contemporary generation coming up under Guy that craves the "natural" and unaffected "reality" that the stage seems to be missing: (applause)
Guy applauds for his audience. (one plump little plumb of a lady to her husband) Why, this is absurd!
It is not, though. A ingeniously crafted performance of Guy's does not falsely claim to be something it is not (real, the REAL deal, Truth). It is always a performance.
So the audience, as it is being clapped for astoundingly, must decide how it will act. Guy toys with the reversal of roles and now sits down silently on a golden Throne. A golden throne of un-truth and ceremony. He meditates on the stage the theater. On the mark. This is not a monologue. This is a conversation.
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