Certain select artists seem to elicit a universal reaction from the public. It’s meant as a compliment, except that it somehow short-circuits itself. For example, a certain select actress is so good at getting into the character she’s portraying – and getting so far away from the way we know she normally looks or speaks – that audience members find themselves saying, “I can’t believe that’s Meryl Streep!”
We can name others, of course. Dustin Hoffman has long earned similar kudos.
Of course, it is intended as the ultimate accolade for a theatrical professional to be so incredibly flexible and insightful, in contrast to the TV or movie star who plays only himself. Think of John Wayne, for instance, who was always John Wayne, no matter the name he was given in the latest round.
The dilemma, of course, is that Meryl and Dustin are still being viewed through two separate perspectives that keep them from being completely merged into the character. We begin viewing their impeccable technique, then, at the cost of being thoroughly enmeshed in the story that’s unfolding. In effect, we become aware of being voyeurs.
I suspect something similar can occur in any of the arts. Classical music, for instance, is too frequently measured on the technical brilliance of a soloist or ensemble at the expense of the emotional and intellectual content of the work being performed. Add your own names for visual arts, literature, pop music, dance, and so on.
For now, we’ll simply call it the Meryl Streep Syndrome.
And, oh my, how really good she is at it.
Care to name others worthy of consideration?
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