we go on for years Not even mentioning some simple fact

On screen, the actor smashes down the phone.
He wrecks the thing because he can't get through.
He plays it stagey even when alone.
If you were there, he might be wrecking you.

Actors believe they have to show, not tell,
Any annoyance that the script dictates,
Therefore it's not enough for them to yell:
They must pull down a cupboard full of plates.

An actor wrecks a room. The actress who
Is playing wife to him does not protest.
Perhaps she doesn't have enough to do
All day, and thinks his outburst for the best.

For God forbid that actors bottle up
Their subterranean feelings so that we
Can't see them. We must watch the coffee cup
Reduced to smithereens, the shelf swept free

Of all its crockery. Another take
Requires the whole set to be dressed again
With all the gubbins that he got to break
The first time. Aren't they weary, now and then,

The poor crew, setting up the stuff once more
That some big baby trashes in a rage,
And all that fury faked? False to the core,
The screen experience gives us a gauge

For our real lives, where we go on for years
Not even mentioning some simple fact
That brings us to the aching point of tears --
Lest people think that it might be an act.

[Clive James {1939- }, 'Managing Anger', from Sentenced to Life]