The assumption is that an actor becomes masterful, having first become entirely at peace with themselves. I am not only talking about going to the mountaintop and reaching the peak of contentment, ‘finally’. I am talking of more surface forms of acceptance– the acceptance of your head shape from all sides, a kind of self awareness as sturdy as it is trivial, a certain ease with yourself. I often wonder what it would take for me to enter the zone described. It is more than nerve, it is being enthralled with a goal. For a person to act well, they must have something ‘more important’ in mind– more important than anxieties: negative press, and the prospect of looking silly– it must be the hunger for achievement, a success one can grip when the floor falls from beneath them.
Such goals can change with every movie, with every audience. In the real world, an actor participates in action— whatever is valuable to them, while the convincing actor triumphs in all their endeavours by any means— manipulation namely. ‘Climbing the ladder’ is where some identify ‘good actors’: people adept at pretending, selling a part of themselves, if not the entirety, in order to gain trust, and lay waste to so much more. Others use a model in order to measure the presence of falseness– the examples of a mother, an ex, an aunt known for living in victimhood.
Some manipulators are aware of themselves, others are convinced even by their own behaviour. A hazy memory sits somewhere within me– of a girl who used to dance in our summer showcase shows, who would cry before nearly all performances, causing her lack of skill to become lost in low expectations. It is an example I can count on without being certain of its existence, because I know people; after an unfortunate run in with any deceiver, we all tend to think it. We’re weary of being taken advantage of, and so very ready to accuse. Agendas and dishonour are near at all times. There is enough out there to proudly wear our cynicism.
‘The 48 Laws of Power’ was written by a man who once worked in Hollywood as a screenwriter, and was published the year I was born. It’s a book the size of a pocket and the length of a short story– the ‘concise’ version is what we have at home, ordered by my older sister who read a few pages, before allowing herself to forget it under a plant pot and some old mail. At the time of its release, The 48 Laws of Power was rebuked for its amorality and its shameless cunning. It remains a cultish bestseller, empowering, or affirming for those already concealing their intentions– as the third law advises. While some people are busying themselves with literal application of Robert Greene’s counsel, others use it to understand and protect themselves from such individuals. It remains advertised as a ‘must read’ for those who need to negotiate, persuade and influence. Such job roles create seemingly treacherous individuals.
Sir Keir Starmer– the United Kingdom’s current Prime Minister, flew to Washington on Thursday to meet with Donald Trump. He was amply prepared and clogged with forewarnings, for the stakes of the sit down were higher than anyone would’ve liked. Keir Starmer and Donald Trump are water and oil. Next to Trump, Keir looks especially pale, and next to Keir, Trump looks especially otherworldly. Lord Madelston– British Ambassador to the United States, has been mentoring the Prime Minister, as a man infamous for his knowledge of people– a facility that enables him to know their innermost desires. Donald Trump would be most pleased with more oil– but it’s been estimated that he’ll settle for butter. Keir Stamer has been instructed to flatter, to brush over ineptitudes with declarations of Donald Trump’s strengths– his willingness to take unacceptable risks, and the bold flavour of his leadership. He’s also been told to disregard a powerful component of his own biology– his affection for details, as former Director of Public Prosecutions.
Ukraine’s fate hung in the balance at the time. Russia and America had been meeting to discuss the Russian-Ukraine war, negotiating Ukraine’s future in peace talks that excluded them. Keir Starmer is the second European leader being sent to influence the US to treat Ukraine with some empathy, with the added responsibility of patching the British-American ‘special relationship’.
Much admiration pours upon those who proclaim, ‘take all of me, or nothing at all’. Good mothers demand this strategy from their children, present fathers use such mantras to refine their daughters. There is a shroud of virtue over this approach– its promotion of peace and its guidance towards honesty, and it seems rejected only by people who do not wish to be themselves. There seems to be a few things worse. On the other end, there is deep insecurity and uncertainty, and past that, the deliberate deception we’ve been talking about, and all of the harm that accompanies. There is the abhorrence of being false, and at the other extreme, the abhorrence of being arrogant, rigid, and non-adaptable.
Somewhere in the goodwill of self-acceptance is sometimes the belief that we should not exert nor challenge ourselves to know what each scenario requires– which quality will be fruitful here, and which part of ourselves will be unhelpful in the acquiring of a (righteous) goal. Playing to our strengths, and recognising where and when they may be determined a weakness has not the severity of selling our souls, but is much more like adapting to a foreign environment, and respecting the laws of its people. Adaptability is born of high stakes, much like disingenuousness– yet one entirely masks the self, while the other builds upon prehistoric rock– reimagining what already exists, encouraging multifacetedness, starving off laziness. There is nothing wrong with being briefed.
Keir Starmer returned to London on Friday. There is footage of him standing on an emblemed lectern with Donald Trump off to the left, their ties paired in texture and shade. Keir Starmer successfully rubs the butter upon Donald Trump’s ego. Trump tells him that his accent is beautiful. Keir brought out a letter from his inner pocket– an invitation from King Charles inviting Donald Trump to Buckingham Palace. He raised every thorny issue he’d intended to. He pulled his charm from a neat little box. The press re-emphasised the stark differences in the style and substance of both men– a result of the way Sir Keir Starmer carried himself while visiting the White House. Donald Trump labelled Keir a tough negotiator, and, at the time, walked back inflammatory comments about Ukraine’s own president— Volodymyr Zelenskyy, perhaps as a result of the integrity in the room with him.