PERFORMANCE

Peter Brook (b. 1925) ends his well-known book, The Empty Space, with the enigmatic sentence: ‘A play is play.’ And ‘play’ is a good place to begin (as well as end) any consideration of performance, for play is something we have all experienced, and it has surprising affinities with drama and theatre. Perhaps the first thing to say about play is that it is the opposite

of work. Whereas work takes place at specified times, in a particular place, and the worker’s identity is fixed – she or he is a plumber, a librarian, a politician – play takes place at any time, anywhere, and enables the person playing to be whoever they want to be – a fireman, a footballer, a king or a queen. Their identity is not fixed. Moreover, at work, one has tools – a computer, a screwdriver, a notebook and pencil – whereas one can play with anything – mud, a saucepan lid, mummy’s shoes. Indeed, one may ask: are toys really necessary? Play has been divided into three ‘types’ – active play (running

about, tumbling over, etc.), playing with things (mud, saucepan lids, etc.), and playing with others (chasing, playing schools or hospitals, etc.). Each of these is a kind of performance because each involves a measure of pretending, a ‘magic if’ which enables the player to

enter a world of make-believe. And though she is only ‘play-acting’ here, the play-acting is still absorbing enough to arouse genuine emotions. Children playing in a playground may be seen laughing ‘for real’, crying ‘for real’, really losing their tempers – in play. Play opens up possibilities, and enables us to explore situations

of difficulty, without any ‘real life’ consequences. It is perhaps a training for the imagination. When we have to cope with cops or robbers, or mummies or daddies, in play, we are practising life, learning how to survive. We experience deep emotions and the reality of relationships in play, but at the back of our minds, we know we are safe. We can escape – stop the game – when we want to. We don’t play ‘in order to’ do anything, such as increase our

productivity, impress our bank manager, placate our parent. We play ‘for fun’. And therein lies the problem of play, for many in authority see playing as frivolous, a waste of time and energy, even wicked. ‘The devil makes work for idle hands,’ says the old saw. Plato (427-347 BCE) wanted to ban play – and the theatre – from his ideal Republic. The seventeenth-century Puritans cancelled Christmas and closed the theatres. But people – of all ages, and through all times – have wanted to play, so that authorities have been forced to set aside times when play is ‘licensed’ – carnival, festivals, bank holidays – and places to play – fairgrounds, football pitches, nurseries, and so on. Those who have persisted in playing at the ‘wrong’ time and in the ‘wrong’ place have often been cast outside the law, as actors were for centuries castigated as ‘rogues and vagabonds’. They played; play-acted; performed.