The world is a theater, and here we develop our act. Remove the ego, costume and makeup, what is there? We must be more than just that! The great studio of life offers us many roles, but we can never seem to catch that one big satisfying break. We are always discontent.
Time passes mercilessly as fresh faces appear on the silver screen, and the old performer are for-gotten. Stardom comes at a cruel price, it's never for keeps. It leaves wistful memories of fifteen minutes of applause, and maybe some tokens of award. The limelight changes to twilight like yesterday's tabloid news. If luck be a lady, then fame is a fleeting mistress. Or a widow.
The pathos is captured in Billy Wilder's masterpiece, the 1950 film-noir, "Sunset Boulevard." Mr. DeMille wasn't really waiting for the close-up! It was only the twisted delusion of a fading actress. False hopes from her kept man, William Holden, find him dead, face down in the swimming pool of the grotesque Hollywood mansion.
"...never saw a woman so alone." LA Woman, by Jim Morrison
The Universal Studio.
The cameraman sees the doing and the one doing the doing, but is never under the impression that he is the doer. From this place it's already been arranged. The raw film of an ever-unfolding story.
The universe is theater, drama. Each of us has a role to play in that history. There are no extras in this production, everyone counts for screen credit. Everything simply happens the way it happens, and cannot happen otherwise. We are both participants and audience.
By surrendering attachment we find it's not really our movie at all. No worries about bad breaks in this business. No upstaging or craving for applause. No walk of fame on Hollywood Boulevard. We are individual characters, designed personalities, different facets of God. What more is there? Gloria Swanson's powerful performance made the point, the glitz and flash is only an illusion, a decaying romantic fantasy.
Copyright 2017 by The Pulpit.