Director. One Word Says It All

Directors rule. It’s a fukkin ‘ard ass job, thankless, underpaid (really!) unstable, antagonistic, anti-relationship, introspective, misanthropic, self-loathing, emotionally damaging and infinitely rewarding enterprise. It involves the most troubled creatures to ever walk the earth: no, not serial killers. Actors. The heft of their baggage is legion. The unevenness of even the finest auteur is not legend but the norm. You can be young, you can be old, you can be middle aged, but you can never be a mediocrity. The world won’t accept it. Your mythos will crumble. You will damage your own masterworks. The most vital art form of the last two hundred years commands you to achieve an Oath of the Horatii with every endeavor. Talentless hacks surrounding you must be svengalied into greatness…there is no other way. You must divine the inspiration of a master preacher or even GODhead and bring disparate forces to muster to achieve the goal of the common good. That goal would be the influence of a planet, not just a culture. A work of lasting authority, there for the common good of all humanity: a provocative work, a telling work, a self-revelatory work, a missive of import, a universality sans banality, a credo and hallmark to referred to for all time. That is the chore and directive of a great director, a largely singular figure adrift in culture and left to rot when not influential. In short, a man-or woman- for all seasons, good or bad, subdued or delirious. Word. 

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