Marooned has been on three times before and always directed by me, though previously I never credited myself with that for I felt that I wasn’t a director, how could I be since I was always frightened. Instead I saw myself as a fill-in until the journey of the piece ended or we found the funds to afford a confident one.
But this time it’s different. Now I think I’m coming to understand that, for me, as a director the key is to accept that I don’t understand the story. For understanding is a not a true destination, it is a delusion; a pin that I place on a map; a map that not only recognizes no borders, but a map that is not actually there.
I used to think that stories came from somewhere deep, somewhere we don’t understand, but that’s wrong. Art is everywhere, and all you can do to temporarily capture a fragment of its impossible beauty, and this will sound like a wank, is to step through your script in search of what’s there.
But in the theatre that is a story you can’t find by yourself. For no one can see that far, instead, together, you may momentarily reach it and present it to an audience, through the courage of the craft’s true explorers, the actors.
For the real script is hidden inside their souls.
That’s why you can’t control the actors to your own preconceived perceptions and that’s why you can’t work with actors who imprison themselves to theatrical rules, instead you have to all make a pact to use your combined weight and plunge as deep as you can in search of that moment when you get covered in goosebumps and one of you stops and says, “Ok, that works.”
And the only clue the universe will offer you to let you know that you are on the right path, is fear.