Harold Pinter passed away yesterday evening.
He leaves behind a distinguished array of striking plays, memories of his performances as an actor and outspoken social critic, and a unique lexicon of stage vocabulary that many others have been borrowing from for years.
Pinter taught me, more than any other playwright I’ve studied, how the art of playwriting isn’t just about creating sparkling dialogue for actors to speak. Indeed, the most important thing Pinter’s work taught me is the importance of letting characters shut the hell up, of letting drama exist in the seconds between one person’s statement and the other person’s response. He was a master of dread and silences, of the anguish that comes of trying to determine what to say next.
I would offer that we should observe a moment of silence at his passing, but it seems more appropriate if we simply engage in a weighted Pause.
Rest in peace, sir.