Robert Cohen - Theatre, Brief Version-McGraw-Hill Education (2016)

Chapter
6
The Director
© Robert Cohen
THE ROOM IS ALREADY FILLED with people when
she enters, a bit distracted, with a bundle of books and
papers under her arm. Expectation, tension, and even a
hint of panic lurk behind the muffled greetings, loose
laughter, and choked conversation prompted by her
arrival.
She sits, and an assistant arranges chairs. Gradually,
the others seat themselves at the other end of
what has suddenly become “her” table. An edgy
silence descends. Where are they going? What experiences
lie ahead? What risks, what challenges are to
be demanded? What abstract ideas and feelings, in the
coming weeks and months, are going to become a poignant
reality?
Only she knows—and if she doesn’t, no one does.
In this silence, tender with hope and fear, the director
breaks ground for the production. Her plan begins to
become work and her imagination begins to become
art. It is the peak moment of directing—and of the
director.
That is an idealized scenario, to be sure. There are
many down-to-earth directors who deliberately avoid
invoking an impression of “mystique” and whose primary
efforts are directed toward dispelling awe, dread,
or any form of personal tension among their associates.
Nonetheless, the picture holds a measure of truth for
every theatrical production. The art of directing is an
exercise in leadership, imagination, and control, and
in the director’s hands rest the aspirations, neuroses,
skills, and ideas of the entire theatrical company.
Directing is an art whose product is the most ambiguous,
perhaps the most mysterious, in the theatre. The
direction of a play is not visible like scenery or costumes,
and unlike the actor’s voice or the playwright’s
143