Perfect Schmerfect
One of the things I like about theater – an obvious cliché – is that it is live. There is always a possibility that something can happen to disturb the routine. It’s a gamble when you go to see it or participate in it. You might get the best night. Or you might get the night that something happens to make everything fizzle.
I know it’s strange, but I actually really like to see mess ups. No, this isn’t a sense of catty triumph to see other actors fail. Indeed, it’s just the opposite. I like to see when they are obviously losing a line, or a look in their eyes shows that there isn’t something quite right about the set or the props. Because within that look is also often a moment of genius, working through the problem under pressure. And that is what makes theater real. The test of one’s skill and character to not break when things are not perfect.
I actually get annoyed when I go to see friends, pay money, give up my time, and all they can do is bitch about how something wasn’t perfect with their performance. Obviously, I understand the frustration. But what I don’t say often enough – what I really should be singing from the rooftops – is that I appreciate the ability to get over the imperfection. It is in those moments of imperfection that talent and art are born.
Perfection, though, really is a relative term. Doesn’t it just mean that we are happy with something in a moment? Can anything ever really truly be perfect? If something is perfect… then what the hell is the point in paying attention to it? I don’t believe in heaven any more. But even if I did, I really wouldn’t be interested. Because all that perfection of blue sky seems boring… which to me… is actually quite hellish.
And yet, our egos try to defend perfection. It amazes me how many of us (self included here) deny our flaws or contribution to mistakes. Nobody wants to be wrong. Nobody wants to be the one who caused a problem or issue. No one wants to be told something they worked long and hard on for many hours isn’t as perfect as they thought it might be…
But the light is always changing. What seems beautiful in one cascade of brilliance might be much less attractive from the opposite angle. Or at least in need of some improvement. That shouldn’t be discouraging. It should be motivating. To see a flaw allows one to see the way to fix it… which could lead to a much more rewarding discovery in the end.
Because sometimes, the improvisation on the stage helps you find the humor or the pathos of the scene that wasn’t already there. It breaks the routine. It gives life to the play that has been repeated and repeated through rehearsal and multiple performances. Perfection is a death knell. Imperfection is an opportunity for rebirth.
I know it’s strange, but I actually really like to see mess ups. No, this isn’t a sense of catty triumph to see other actors fail. Indeed, it’s just the opposite. I like to see when they are obviously losing a line, or a look in their eyes shows that there isn’t something quite right about the set or the props. Because within that look is also often a moment of genius, working through the problem under pressure. And that is what makes theater real. The test of one’s skill and character to not break when things are not perfect.
I actually get annoyed when I go to see friends, pay money, give up my time, and all they can do is bitch about how something wasn’t perfect with their performance. Obviously, I understand the frustration. But what I don’t say often enough – what I really should be singing from the rooftops – is that I appreciate the ability to get over the imperfection. It is in those moments of imperfection that talent and art are born.
Perfection, though, really is a relative term. Doesn’t it just mean that we are happy with something in a moment? Can anything ever really truly be perfect? If something is perfect… then what the hell is the point in paying attention to it? I don’t believe in heaven any more. But even if I did, I really wouldn’t be interested. Because all that perfection of blue sky seems boring… which to me… is actually quite hellish.
And yet, our egos try to defend perfection. It amazes me how many of us (self included here) deny our flaws or contribution to mistakes. Nobody wants to be wrong. Nobody wants to be the one who caused a problem or issue. No one wants to be told something they worked long and hard on for many hours isn’t as perfect as they thought it might be…
But the light is always changing. What seems beautiful in one cascade of brilliance might be much less attractive from the opposite angle. Or at least in need of some improvement. That shouldn’t be discouraging. It should be motivating. To see a flaw allows one to see the way to fix it… which could lead to a much more rewarding discovery in the end.
Because sometimes, the improvisation on the stage helps you find the humor or the pathos of the scene that wasn’t already there. It breaks the routine. It gives life to the play that has been repeated and repeated through rehearsal and multiple performances. Perfection is a death knell. Imperfection is an opportunity for rebirth.
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