Tag Archive: crazy theories


Because of the thoroughly enjoyable production of The Sorcerer which ate my life last week I’ve been thinking about the dramatic arts a lot. As I have said before I tend to think about things too much, and directing is one of those things.

It is common wisdom in our Gilbert and Sullivan society that two artistic directors are better than one, and I’d like to discuss why I believe that is.

There are, I believe, two main reasons. The first reason is a simple matter of editorial control; if I’m directing alone and I come up with a terrible and impractical idea (‘We’ll have everyone come on stage topless!’) there is no one who has the authority to tell me ‘Mark, that’s an awful idea.’ Hopefully such ideas are rare cases, but it’s very useful that someone else has the chance to veto any terrible ideas. In an equal two-person partnership this veto power obviously works both ways.

The second, and more interesting reason why directing teams of two or more is advantageous is the increase in incidence of interesting ideas. We can model the process of directing a show as a list of decisions for each moment (whether line of dialogue, or beat of music) and each element (lighting, choreography, scenery) in the show. Each such element-moment needs a single decision – should this scene be lit with a subdued blue, or a full white? Should the chorus do a box step, or stand still?

We can also observe that each of those decisions can have some measure of quality associated with it; some decisions are great decisions – one of those ‘once-in-every-show’ ideas that everyone agrees is majestically hilarious of heart-breakingly moving – some are terrible ideas – those that have cast members threatening to leave if they aren’t changed – and most are in the middle. These are of course subjective measures of quality and I’ll deal with that issue in a bit.

One could do an experiment with a pair of directors; lock them both in separate rooms with a pad of paper, and a copy of the script and vocal score of the show and ask them to come out when they have a complete list of their directions for the show. Imagine for a second that we have an oracle who can tell us completely reliably and objectively how good an idea is, and so using that oracle we can construct a graph of the quality of direction against progress through the show.

Each director will have a number of peaks and troughs along that graph as they have good, and then not so good, ideas. When they are brought together and are asked to come up with a single directing plan for the show then, assuming they can recognise good ideas and bad ideas accurately enough, the graph of the result should be the upper bound of the two individual graphs. In other words they compare their decisions for each element-moment and select the better of the two. As long as they have a different series of peaks and troughs along their graphs then the average quality of the resulting show will be demonstrably improved.

I said I’d return to the subjectiveness question, and it allows us to bring together the two theories posited above. The quality of a directorial decision cannot be easily calculated by any algorithm. It depends on personal taste, familiarity with the genre, demographic background, and so on. This is what we mean by subjective – the measure of quality depends on the person making the measurement. As a corollary to this, I suggest that a person’s estimation of the quality of their own ideas is likely to be both higher and more static than that of other people of those ideas.

In any case, there will be a theoretical underlying objective measure of an idea’s quality (even if it’s not in prectice discoverable). All else being equal we should expect that the more people are asked to (subjectively) judge the quality of an idea, the closer it will approach the true underlying (objective) quality. Therefore having more than one person involved in the directorial decisions both increases the incidence rate of good ideas, but also helps to more accurately identify those good ideas and discard the bad ideas.

If I get time I’ll add some pretty graphs to better illustrate what I mean, but that time is not now unfortunately.

Sometimes I think about things too much.

In my head there’s the concept of wallet entropy which is a measure of how fragmented the currency in your wallet currently is. So if you’ve just touched down in a foreign country and all your currency is in a small number of large denominations then you have very low wallet entropy, and of course a high wallet entropy results from an excess of shrapnel[1].

Money transactions are, naturally, entropy transforming properties (though unlike thermodynamic entropy there is no energy gradient to traverse. That would be fun – a wallet which gave off heat when you combined five 20p pieces into a £1 coin…). For example, you are buying lunch and the total comes to £3.64 – you pay with a £5 note. Now the most efficient change you could be given is a £1 coin, a 20p coin, a 10p coin a 5p coin and a 1p coin. Your wallet entropy has just sky-rocketed!

A wallet exothermic process (so to speak) would be one where, for instance, you paid for goods totalling £5.10 with a £10 and a 10p piece, to be given a £5 note as change.

Some transactions maintain entropy whilst nevertheless changing the wallet’s value. If you give a £1 coin and get a 50p coin back then your wallet entropy has remained constant.

For me, the entropy seems to be cyclic – sometimes I’m working hard to get my entropy up (because I know I’ll need change for car parking for example), other times getting it down to avoid my wallet becomming too bloated to fit nicely in my pocket.

I suspect there is actually a wallet entropy equilibrium which I am constantly circling wherein you have enough entropy for small payments where notes aren’t accepted but not so much that your wallet becomes unusable.

In fact that’s probably a universal property – if you have lots of change in your wallet and you’re at a shop where they’re low on change, you are likely to pay in smaller denominations (and so, more coins) to equalise the entropy between the two of you as much as possible.

Till tomorrow, I hope.

Mark

  1. This might just be a British English expression for the lowest coin denominations like 1p and 2p pieces. []

So it’s day two. And I’m back. So this project has lasted longer than any diet I’ve ever tried…

I mentioned yesterday my hypothesis about the time distribution of SMS message replies, and to prove that my mind turns the trivialist of matters into mathematical models here is the expansion of that idea.

Let’s say that at 12:00 you send a text message to a good friend; not a deep and meaningful ‘we need to talk’ message, just a genial ‘how’s your day?’, ‘fancy a pint later?’, ‘Do you realise you had asparagus in your teeth when I saw you yesterday but it was funnier to not mention it at the time?’ or some such. The sort of text that you would expect a relatively quick reply to. Now at 12:10 let’s say you send another message of a similar nature to a different friend, before the first friend had replied to the first message. At 12:15 your phone makes that little Pavlovian jingle to indicate you have a message. Before you read it (and assuming it’s a reply from one of the two previously mentioned friends), which of the two do you think it is most likely to have come from?

My hypothesis says that it is much more likely to come from the second friend than the first friend.

To explore this idea lets make some assumptions to make it easier to reason about the situation. Let us assume that the messages sent are such that the receiver would be highly likely to reply ‘as soon as they are able’ – it’s not a message that requires a lot of time to consider and reply to, it doesn’t require the receiver to do a lot of work before replying for example.

We also assume that the receiver is ‘predictably lazy’ – when they receive a message they may wait a while before replying due to procrastination tendancies, but they will still reply as soon as they ‘get round to it’ – we assume they won’t reply at some random time that afternoon determined by little more than whimsy.

In that case we assume the only reason that a reply is not received ‘instantly’ (minus the time needed to receive, absorb, and construct a reply) is that the receiver is currently unable to reply for some reason – they are in a lecture, at work, walking home from town, performing some street theatre or whatever – or are being lazy.

I put it that the probability distribution of a reply diminishes over time – in the first minute we might reasonably expect a noticable probability of a reply, there is less reason to assume a reply will come in the 17th minute – if they haven’t replied in 16 minutes, why should we suppose they would reply in 17? The longer a reply doesn’t come the more we must assume there is a reason they are not replying sooner (being in a lecture, laziness) and so the less we should expect a reply the next second, or the next minute.

In the example above therefore, at 12:15 it has been only 5 mintues since you sent a message to friend two, but 15 since you sent one to friend one. Therefore, by this hypothesis, you must assume there is a greater chance of friend two having replied.

I have personal anecdotal evidence in support of this theory, though of course I’m more than likely to suffer from confirmation bias. If I could be bothered, or if the results would actually have any kind of bearing on my, or anyone else’s life I might conduct a more formal experiment. But, you know, meh.

Till tomorrow, I hope.

Mark

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