Movies will make you famous. Television will make you rich. But theatre will make you good.
Art exists because life is not enough.
Firstly, wearing a mask can, in an actor, induce anxiety deriving not so much from the use itself as from the fact that the mask restricts both the visual field and the acoustic-vocal range. Your own voice seems to be singing at you, stunning you, ringing in your ears and, until you master it, you cannot control your breathing. The mask feels like an encumbrance and can easily transform itself into a torture chamber.
That is the first reason. The second which is mythical, magical almost. A singular sensation afflicts you when you take off the mask-this at least, is my reaction- the fear that part of my face has remained stuck to it, or the fear that the face has gone with the mask. When you remove the mask after having had it on for two or three hours, you have the impression of annihilating yourself.
Whenever people call the acting in Classic Who “rubbish” or complain about the bad effects, I just laugh. The explosion here was much bigger than planned. It nearly burnt Sylvester McCoy’s clothes off, but he kept walking, staying in character, because he knew they couldn’t redo this scene. That’s dedication. *tips off her hat*
Vashta Nerada [Doctor Who Theme] performed by Traffic Experiment
I love this! To me it sounds like what I would imagine Pink Floyd would sound like doing this cover.
If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed by the truth.
I think I will start referring to the internet as the “Radiated Library”.
Happiness was useless to me. It was heartache that filled my purse. What happy man has need of Shakespeare?