The really good actors, we are told, “disappear into a role”. Think of Viola Davis, who crosses time periods and class in the characters she plays with a stunning ease, or Meryl Streep, whose accent work reinvents her right before your eyes. But, of course, a lot of good actors also tend to be famous, thus negating that “disappearing” somewhat. Gosh, Daniel Day-Lewis is amazing, you think, before catching yourself.

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I found myself doing something similar at the theatre recently. The revival of Kenneth Lonergan’s Lobby Hero, starring Chris Evans and Brian Tyree Henry among others, made me laugh a lot. Evans, for ever Captain America on the big screen, is sporting a luxurious moustache for his role as Bill, a Bad Man who is also really funny and sly. Every so often, I’d remember who he was, but I applaud the moustache for helping him “disappear” and deliver a solid performance. Farther uptown a couple of nights later, I saw the American premiere of the Young Vic’s production of Yerma, starring Billie Piper and for which she won her first Olivier award. It’s all a far cry from her teenybopper days, which is how I first knew her. As Her in Yerma, I saw something natural, instinctive, utterly raw. Forget disappearing; she dissolved into it. I will remember that performance for as long as I’m alive, and perhaps even after.

Transformation is an attractive idea. But habits, good or bad, take time to alter. For lazy people such as myself, even observing something as ephemeral as a night at the theatre can be good enough. I imagine that the actors are having a ball, tweaking things by mere degrees every night, delivering something new every time. Yourself, but different. Both times I left the theatre, I realised that I was envious.