The First Type: The Puppeteer
Secretly, or not so secretly, he wishes actors had no brain, no soul, no will, no freedom. If only he could move us like puppets—our emotions, our breath, our voice.
“Say it like this,” he commands. “Do it like that.”
And if you happen to not do it exactly as he wants… the first object within reach will be hurled at you because you blinked at the wrong moment.
Two months of rehearsals, two months of shattered nerves—not his, the actors’.
He has grand theories about speech, voice, drama… yet they have no real substance, just words in the wind.
This director has a grand, vague vision that must be realized by the unsuspecting actor, who stands there, lost…
Perhaps they should consult an oracle to figure out what this director actually wants!
In his hands, you become a pawn, a mere piece in his game—after all, he is a god who works in mysterious ways.
Your body? A puppet.
Your mouth? A mouthpiece, merely reproducing his interpretation of the text.
What text? The original was sacrificed on the altar of his grand vision.
His art, his vision, has nothing to do with the play itself, nor with the writer, who is merely an inferior god, a victim in the name of his megalomania.
The actor? A decorative prop, who, luckily, can talk and move whenever and wherever they are told.
The Second Type: The Traffic Cop
He looks at you with dead eyes, as if you were a Louis XV piece of furniture.
Your name doesn’t matter, nor your training, nor your years of experience.
The only things you will hear from his lips are “Faster,” “Louder.”
He has a basic understanding of the play but will not look deeper.
Relationships? What’s that?
Motivation? Objectives?
No, my dear, he doesn’t have time for that.
There are sets to move, lights to turn on, curtains to drop, and your energy? It will be drained to the last drop—this type loves chaos.
He stages the first act on the first day, the second act on the second…
And the actors whisper among themselves:
“At least he leaves us alone.”
But you are alone… utterly alone.
The Nightmare
The third type of director is a combination of both—the God-Puppeteer and the dead-eyed Traffic Cop rolled into one.
If you ever cross paths with them? Good luck.
The True Director, the Ideal One
The ideal director is a visionary.
Well-read (at the very least, familiar with the play), always prepared, a maestro, a father, a mother, a child, a psychologist.
An actor, a friendly guide, or strict when needed.
But… what are we even talking about?
The good ones are so few…
Almost nonexistent.
Of course, the two types I wrote about, the ones reading this very last paragraph, will think I’m talking about someone else!
