Porte le texte comme un chapeau

The actor wears a neutral mask.

They sleep, wake up, see the sunrise, and rise to standing with the sunrise.

Prof: "You move like you have Parkinsons. Too fast! Too idiot!"

"You move like a camel in the desert. Your head bobs up and down. The neutral mask did not get drunk last night or smoke hashish. The neutral mask is neutral. It goes to bed, it wakes up, and it gets up. Nothing else. When you move with the mask you bend your head like the virgin mary."

So.

The actor rises. Slowly. "Neutral." They attempt to suggest nothing.

Drum beat. The actor freezes. The mask is removed. Drum beat. The actor continues moving.

Now, the actor speaks. But the actor does not embody the text. The text is placed on top of the movement. The text follows the impulse of the body and never shapes it.

The actor is focused not on the text but the movement. The actor has the pleasure to put the text on the movement.

There is no life in the text. The text is text. The life is in the actor. If the actor cannot have life seperate from the text, then the actor is a zombie idiot servant to the text. The actor only knows how to make sense of text and break everybody's balls.

There is only life in the actor. And the actor's impulse. The impulse is not the text. The actor puts the text on the impulse. The actor wears the text like a hat.