One of the strongest motivations for bringing people to art and science is to escape the odious vulgarity and despair of everyday life and to escape the shackles of people's own vagaries of desire.
Uncle Benhua.
I am a fine and extreme perfectist, even if I kill or get killed. Not to mention rehearsals, a clear division of labour, clear plans, and a systematic approach are essential. But I did participate in the rehearsal of the so-called "rebel" drama, the iceberg, whose name can neither be heard nor obscured by the obnoxious and muddy rehearsal.
The interest in writing this article comes from a dream that I had at some late night on the night of December 19, an extremely painful nightmare. Let's start with my past and the play. Let's call it an iceberg for now, because I can't figure it out. I met one of my college classmates, who told me that there was a group of people on his side who were doing a play, had rehearsals and theatres and wanted to invite me to it, and I went because I refused it because it wasn't my strength, that is, I met the last set of actors and curvatures at the "garbage yard" where I had to go from the East Five Circle to get a cab. I just stepped in, and I tried to get away, and I couldn't stand it more than that scattered magnetic field and amateur rehearsal. But that fellow had me there for three hours, and there wasn't a place for me to be comfortable, even sick. So since then, I have decisively declined that invitation. It's not what I expected. It's a bad joke.
I thought they would stop and think about it, but on 18 November, the author and I broke my illusion that they were still in the middle of an impudent show. The author's first invitation was declined, but I thought about it for a while, and I accepted it. For a simple reason, I just want to know what the drama is about. First time I came to the place and place I was told, I really wanted to quit, what's this?
And listen to their work patterns, huh? No government rule? Anyone can be a director? No leader, no one can comment. What is this? How dare you? I now feel that the writer is trying to paint a black spot in our lives. We can't erase the shadows, and we'll be sick for the rest of our lives.
Dream.
And this dream, a few days after I rehearsed. This is a nightmare for a fourth-class actor like me. The character I played in my dream was accusing me of desecrating his dignity as a character, "The 10-day rehearsal wanted me alive? Show it to the audience? Do you understand my life in the script? You know what I do? Did you dig my routine? Are you going to use my words to play yourself? What the hell are you doing?" All the negative emotions came to me. I woke up. Yeah, I couldn't sleep, not just because of this dream, but also because these four-bit actors, all together, all of them, all of them, all of them, all of them, all of them, all of them, all of them. And you're just messing with the flowers? There's a third-rate writer who doesn't know anything, who just suffocates in the gutter writing some shit, and the writer's phrase, "You have to go back, okay? Six tickets have already been sold." Do you understand this is the most insulting sentence to me? You don't even know the subtle symbiotic relationship between actors and characters. You don't know what a performance is. I actually thought about it. You're a real XXX. But I restrained myself. Because Russell said, "If you hear an opinion that contradicts you, it means that you already feel unconsciously that there is no reason for that. If someone tries to say two plus two is five, you only feel pity, not anger."
The same is true of this trio, like a wet rat in a gutter, who hides in his own dark corner and eats the rest of the shit made out of garbage eaten into his stomach. If they were not clean, they would be scolding each other for their stupidity. And the story of icebergs is that one day they suddenly find out that those people's shit, they're fed up as rats, and they're going to climb up and bite their ass, and then we squeak high, and we're going to make some delicious stuff out of that shit and let the viewers taste it and see how awesome we are.
But to be honest, we mouse actors are the faithful to the drama, and we are the faithful to Alto! The drama is the plague, and the rats are the sickle of death! The rats of the flag uprising, if they're really good, let the viewers eat the good stuff out of the shit! The real world has become ferocious, stinking, vulgar and dull. Let the rats bring you a party!
Monday, 20 December 2021