In literature and drama, the “fourth wall” is a performance convention in which an invisible, imaginary wall separates the characters from the reader or audience. Traditionally, the two groups exist in the mutually exclusive, even physically separate worlds of the “performer” and the “observer,” and never the two shall mix. That said, when characters “break the fourth wall,” they actively defy this convention, shirking the rules and engaging with the audience by addressing them directly or even moving into their physical space. This action is intentional and highly deliberate; the characters know they are involved in a dramatic work—in fact, they are often intensely aware of it—and through this acknowledgement they ultimately strive to establish a connection that elevates the audience from mere observers to intimate participants, peers, or even co-conspirators.
A creator[1] might choose to break the fourth wall for a plurality of reasons, but comedy and intimacy are often at the decision’s core. Comedically speaking, breaking the fourth wall allows characters to provide editorial commentary on the events they’re involved in, many of which may seem to transpire outside their comfort, desire, or control. When characters do this, they are recognizing a shared human experience between themselves and the audience, and by doing so they establish a higher level of trust, connection, and intimacy. After all, looping the audience in on the joke only makes it funnier because it’s shared, relevant, and universally true. In this way, breaking the fourth wall falls somewhere between a lighthearted color commentary and an intimate confessional. Either way, everyone is on the same page; regardless if we’re character or audience member, now we’re in on the joke, misery, or shared experience together.
While I recognize life isn’t a play, novel, or blockbuster film, I do believe there are occasions where we humans could use to break the metaphorical fourth wall a little more frequently than we typically do. So often we live our lives for the “show of it,” performing our way through experiences and trying on new styles and characters based on the particular members of the rotating audience that currently sit in front of us. This isn’t to say we are necessarily fake or even intentionally inauthentic, but there’s undeniably a certain level of performance we humans feel contractually obligated to adhere to in order to successfully navigate our fast-paced lives. Living this way—in this repetitive, performative state—can ultimately make us feel like actors on a stage not of our choosing, rehearsing empty lines and hollowly going through the motions for a shadowed, ambiguous crowd. How often do we break the fourth wall, dropping the act and getting real with others to convey our authentic thoughts, emotions, and reactions? How often do we crave more comedy and intimacy in our relationships but then ultimately fail to cultivate it because we don’t directly address our audience and let others in on those editorial comments that jump through our minds like the thrilling peaks and valleys of a electrocardiogram?
Literally and metaphorically, I’m tired of living life within four walls. Navigating this past year of being constantly at home is taking its toll, and I’m desperately hungry for newness, for otherness, for a change of pace. As someone who is motivated by curiosity and adventure, I’ve recently found myself profoundly unmotivated to engage in the activities and pastimes I typically enjoy. Simple pleasures like reading, exercising, and talking with friends easily lose their sparkle when there’s no variation in routine, and it can quickly feel like the world is shrinking around us.
So how can we escape this? How can we switch things up and ensure the effects of the pandemic don’t consume us?
We need to break the fourth wall.
Literally, we need to get the heck outside and physically change up our perspective. Metaphorically, we need to cut the performance and stop acting how we think we’re supposed to act. Instead, we need to start talking about what we’re really feeling, thinking, and experiencing, and we need to break the fourth wall before it breaks us.
Last weekend Cam and I decided to break our own “fourth walls” by changing things up, getting outside, and exploring new territory. We both love being outside, and while daily walks have played a key role in keeping us sane throughout the pandemic, these indulgences have recently begun to feel monotonous, ordinary, and even chore-like. So, to combat this, we did some research and found a couple new local trails and outdoor areas we plan to explore in the coming weeks. Our first stop brought us to the Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Refuge, and we elected to explore Long Meadow Lake.
It’s crazy how you can take a seemingly ordinary Sunday afternoon and transform it into something extraordinary by simply switching up your scenery. As we took in new vistas and traversed new terrain Cam and I let our minds and conversations wander and chatted about things that don’t typically pop up in our day-to-day lives. We reminisced about previous vacations, debated the merits of newly released music, and paused to watch a bald eagle soar overhead.
If I’m being honest, the views weren’t even particularly stunning or breathtakingly gorgeous, and yet I still found them striking because they were new. And, in the oddest and perhaps most obvious of ways, by immersing myself in something new I felt…well, new. Hiking the seven miles around Long Meadow Lake and surrounding myself in nature allowed me to feel free and connect more deeply and authentically, both with myself and with the world around me.
Perhaps Peloton instructor Ally Love said it best: “Don’t climb the mountain for the world to see; climb the mountain so you can see the world.” How often do we move through life doing the things we think we should be doing? How often do we perform—either in positive or negative ways—for certain audiences? And, in doing so, what might we be missing? Living this way, are we fully allowing ourselves to see the world, or are we simply putting on a show and missing out on our lives?
So, I urge you:
Climb the mountain so you can see the world.
Break that damn fourth wall.
[1] I.e. Author, playwright, director, etc.
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