Dissect - S3E16 - Seigfried by Frank Ocean

Episode Date: September 11, 2018

We dissect "Seigfried" by Frank Ocean, a song expressing Frank's feelings of alienation and isolation, leading to an existential crisis. Season 3 merchandise is now available at dissectpodcast.com. Want to be featured on the Season 3 finale episode? Follow @dissectpodcast on Twitter or Instagram for details. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

From Spotify Studios, this is Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. I'm your host, Cole Kushner. Today we continue our serialized analysis of Blonde by Frank Ocean. On our last episode, we dissected the song White Ferrari, an emotionally potent ballad that outlined the dissolution of a relationship. At the heart of this separation was Frank's desire to explore and experience the world, a resistance to settling down into imprisoning monotony. As Blonde continues, this opposition to settling persists, fueling an existential crisis on the album's next track, the subject of today's episode, Sigfried. The markings on your surface, your speckled face, hard crystals hang from your ear, age your fear.

Sigfried was written by Frank Ocean and Malay. Rostom Botmonglish is given additional writing credits for the use of a sample from an untitled track. Singer-songwriter Elliot Smith is also given writing credits due to the interpolation of his song A Fawn Farewell. Large portions of what we now know as the song Sigfried were performed live as far back as 2013, three years before Blonde's release. In terms of young surface, lost in the face large bristles stand from evening at the end.

In terms of arrangement and lyrics, this early rendition and the album version are similar in their opening few minutes. But where the album version remains absent of drums throughout and features an extended middle section with strings and an array of abstract production elements, the live rendition contains no extended middle section. Rather, it features an instrumental closing section with a strong, almost danceable drumbeat. It's interesting to hear this early 2013 version of Sigfried, as it gives us a chance to hear its development and by extension the development of Frank Ocean's artistry over the course of three years. It would seem that Sigfried, like most songs on Blonde entered the studio as just chords, melody, and lyrics, and through experimentation and collaboration,

was rendered into the sound sculpture that appears on the album. Indeed, of all the songs on Blonde, Sigmund, Sigmund arguably represents Frank Ocean at the peak of his production powers, showcasing his ability to distill and synthesize a diverse array of abstract sound elements to create a unique world in which to set and enrich the emotional experience of his story. It's very similar to the way a director in film uses lighting, color, sound, and sound, set design to enhance or amplify the emotional impact of a scene. Sigmfried begins with a strum guitar pattern playing the chords C major 7, A minor 7, E minor 7, and D major 7. This guitar part is lathered with effects to create the distant otherworldly sound that appears on blonde.

First, a good amount of reverb is added to the guitar. Reverb is the audio reflections that surfaces like walls produce when sound hits them. Think about the sound of your voice when yelling at a large, empty concert, hall or in a cave, that's reverb. As a timbreal effect, it can be applied in a myriad of ways to mimic different environments or acoustical settings. For instance, I can apply some reverb to my voice to make it sound like I'm in a cellar, or I can apply reverb to sound as if I'm speaking in a deep canyon. Applied to the guitar on SIGfried, reverb creates distance, as if the guitar is being played in a neighboring universe. Next, most of the high and low frequencies are

removed from the guitar, which is responsible for the droning monotonous timbrel quality. Finally, some soft delay is added. Delay is an audio effect that records an input signal and then plays it back after a specified period of time. You can think of this like an echo. You can set the parameters of the delay to create a soft tail of sound, giving your audio signal a little texture and depth like this. Or you can create complex rhythms and patterns, with delays that loop definitely like this. On Sigfried, a slight offbeat delay is added to the guitar, providing more depth and rhythmical interest, though it's barely discernible given all the other effects applied

to the guitar. When placed in Sigfried, this guitar is pan-right, meaning you hear more of it in your right speaker than you do your left. You'll also notice a healthy amount of white noise or tape hiss. This noise, which traditionally you're supposed to avoid when recording, is used to add depth and ambience and also fill out the frequency field of the track. The white noise is as loud, if not louder than the guitar itself, adding color and dimension to this otherwise very minimal instrumental texture. Finally, if you listen very, very carefully, you can hear what sounds like a click track in the left speaker. A click track or metronome is what musicians use when recording a song in a studio. It provides the pulse or tempo, making it easier to stay in rhythm. It's very faint in

the background on Sigfried, listen carefully to the left speaker, ideally with headphones on, and see if you can pick it out. Now I know all these might seem like minor details, but I'm pointing them out because Sigfried's seemingly minimal production is the accumulation of these kind of small details, details that provide mood and environment, that contribute significantly to the emotional weight of the song. Indeed, when Ocean enters Sigfried, his voice resounds amidst this atmospheric otherworldly musical texture as if singing directly into the cosmos. The markings on your surface, your speckled face, flight crystals hang from your ear, engage your fear, and relate to my beer.

Many have speculated the person Frank is singing about on Sigfried is French model Willie Cartier, best known for his work with the high-fashioned brand Javanchi. Though never confirmed, it's rumored that the two had a brief relationship in the latter half of 2012. 12. Cartier has freckles on his face, which many have linked to the opening lines, the markings on your surface, your speckled face. Also, Sigfried is a name of a mythological hero who's almost always depicted with long flowing hair. At the time, Cartier had long dark hair. And given that the song was performed live in summer of 2013, the timing of Sigfried would seem to line up with this rumored romance as well. We also note that Sigfried is a long-haired character in the video game franchise Soul Calibur.

A lover of video games, Frank's Project Nostalgia Ultra had a track titled Soul Calibur, so he might suspect this to be the Sigfried Frank is referencing. Regardless of the specifics, the opening moments of Sigfried outlined the description of someone's face, as Frank goes on to seeing, flawed crystals hang from your ears, I couldn't gauge your fears. Coming after a reference to earrings, Frank plays up the word gauge, as a measurement of this person's fears, and as a reference to plug or gauge earrings. This line, I couldn't gauge your fears, followed by the line I can't relate to my peers,

bridges the song from its opening intimate description of a lover to Frank's feelings of alienation and isolation, a theme that will dominate the rest of the song. The first four lines of Sigfried seem to exemplify Frank's ability to be romantically involved or infatuated with someone, but lacking the capacity to be emotionally intimate or relatable with them. As the opening verse continues, this theme of alienation becomes much more prominent. Frank sings, I'd rather live outside, rather chip my pride. Maybe I'm a fool, maybe I should move and settle two kids in a swimming pool.

I'm not brave. Frank sings, I can't relate to my peers. I'd rather live outside. I'd rather chip my pride than lose my mind out here. Given this song was written in late 2012 or early 2013, we may speculate that these lines were inspired by Frank's growing dissatisfaction with Los Angeles at the time. According to the New York Times, quote, the city was choking him, people had stolen money from him, there were physical sorts of things going on in the streets, and he grew concerned about the management of his affairs, unquote.

Frank told the times, quote, I had in the midst of all this, this feeling of isolation, unquote, and that, quote, if your house is on fire, you need to get out of the house. These feelings eventually led Frank to move to London, a place where he knew very few people. The line, I'd rather live outside, seems less tied to the actual outdoors than it does living outside Los Angeles, as his move to London would signify, and perhaps more importantly, outside societal norms and expectations. Frank elaborates on this notion singing, Maybe I'm a fool, maybe I should move and settle, two kids in a swimming pool. Frank questions himself and considers the possibility of conforming to American suburban norms,

illustrated by two kids in a swimming pool. He plays on the word settle, both settling down as in securing oneself in location and routine, and settle, as in accepting something that one considers to be less and satisfactory. We realize that the makeup of Frank's life was and is far outside the traditional model. He's living a life with few, if any, models to follow. He's unwilling to conform to American tradition and social customs and sexual preference, but also in the expectations within his profession as a successful musician and artist. We remember in the years after Channel Orange's release, Frank would work to negotiate himself out of his contract with Def Jam in order to become an independent artist. This would allow him to maintain complete control over his

art, finances, and business decisions, a rarity for an artist as big as ocean. He doesn't tour, he very rarely does interviews or promotional appearances. These things are very common for someone in Frank's position and might be considered the music industry version of two kids in a swimming pool. Obviously they're not a priority for Frank, and he's granted himself the first of freedom to live outside or reject these expectations. Frank continues on Sigfried shouting, I'm not brave. It seems to be an admission of insecurity about his untraditional life choices. It makes clear that in the face of his unique challenges, he's not a superhero. He too has fears, self-doubt, and anxiety when confronting the tough decisions that are necessary to construct

a meaningful life. Sigfried continues with something like a second verse, signaled by the entrance of a baseline that's panned slightly left. and taking in the homeless sometimes I've been living in an idea an idea from another man's mind Maybe I'm a fool To settle for a place with some nice views Frank begins the verse

I'm living over city and taking in the homeless sometimes Later in the verse he'll say Maybe I'm a fool to settle for a place with some nice views Again, we consider the setting here to be Los Angeles post-channel Orange, as the New York Times wrote, quote, he was living here in a glass-walled apartment high over sunset and vine, with a panoramic view of South Los Angeles, unquote. The line, taking in the homeless sometimes seems to have two meanings. Given his view over the city, we might speculate he's taking in, as in looking at or contemplating the homeless men and women in the city. This ties back into the notion that he'd rather live outside, as stated in verse 1,

and that's restated with more emphasis in verse 2. It could be that Frank is rethinking his lifestyle, admiring the freedom and lack of commitment to social norms the homeless have. We also consider that taking in the homeless could be alluding to sexual encounters that occur without commitment, tying back into the opening lines of verse 1. Frank continues, been living in an idea, an idea from another man's mind. This is a sneakily complex line. Frank had just mentioned his apartment with grand views of the city, so the space he's living in actually was at one point an idea in another man's mind, the apartment's architect. But more thematically relevant is the idea of status quo, expounding upon the notion of societal expectations as outlined in verse one.

Frank is again questioning his life's trajectory, attempting to figure out how many of the decisions he's made have been consciously or subconsciously dictated by these social norms and pressures to conform, ideas and expectations that are not his, hence living in an idea from another man's mind. He elaborates on this by repeating a similar refrain as verse one. Maybe I'm a fool to settle for a place with some nice views. Maybe I should move, settle down, two kids in a swimming pool. As SIG freak continues, Frank shouts with a coarse voice the refrains, I'm not brave and I'd rather live outside, while a string section enters sustaining a high E. After the line, I've tried hell, Frank sings soft sustaining backing vocals. Listen close to these

as he sings, it's a loop, and on the other side of the loop is a loop, referring to what we assume as an affinity symbol. What would you recommend I'd do? Frank sings, I'd rather go to jail. I've tried hell. What would you recommend I do? This seems to be the conclusion to the questions and self-doubts raised throughout the opening two verses. He understands himself enough to know that conforming to social norms and expectations will only lead to hell or a personal jail. He asked somewhat rhetorically what one suggests he should do in his situation, knowing the conclusion for himself all too well. This is perhaps the meaning behind the line

it's a loop, and the other side of the loop is a loop. On one hand, Frank can conform to a traditional life and settle into a monotonous routine, one kind of inescapable loop. Or he could live a life outside tradition, but that doesn't guarantee his happiness and may very well leave him isolated and alienated from society, another kind of hellish loop. When viewed this way, we see the two loops intersected like the infinity symbol. Frank appears to be standing in the center of this intersection, weighing his options, not ignorant to the suffering inherent in either path. As SIGFRI continues, Frank's pitched up voice is somewhat indiscernible, but if you listen carefully, you can hear him saying, this is how Molly must feel. The origins of this Molly line

come from an unreleased song called Feel California, which Frank performed on tour in 2013, the same tour he performed early versions of Sigfried. This feels how Molly must feel, why we must feel, what, Molly must feel, what, you know what I mean? Molly is slang for the drug MDMA, commonly referred to as ecstasy. Like its name suggests, ecstasy creates feelings of euphoria, emotional warmth, and enhanced sensory perception. This is how Molly must feel is a somewhat perplexing line coming after the turmoil and confusion expressed in the song up until this point. But as we'll see as Sigfrey continues, this line signals a sonic and thematic transformation, a beautiful string arrangement enters, composed by Johnny

Greenwood of Radiohead. Franklin interpolates two lines from Elliot Smith's A Fawn Farewell, a song about drug addiction. Let's now hear the source of this interpolaation, a fond farewell by Elliot Smith. Elliot Smith is a singer-songwriter whose long struggle with heroin addiction eventually led to his suicide in 2003. On a fond farewell, Smith addresses two parts of himself, his addicted self, the one that crazed the escape of heroin, and the part of himself that wants to be sober, saying, this is not my life, it's just a fond farewell to a friend, can be read a number of ways.

It of course has suicidal overtones, but it also seems to address his attempt to stop using heroin, that his justification for using this one last time is akin to saying goodbye to an old friend. Moreover, we can read it as a kind of rebirth that he's saying goodbye to a part of himself that he enjoys, but knows needs to die. With the final verse of the song, Smith's addicted self sings about sobriety, I see you're leaving me and taking up with the enemy, the cold comfort of the in-between, a little less than a human being, a little less than a happy high, a little less than a suicide, the only things that you've really tried. Smith's life has oscillated between the highs of drug abuse and the lows of suicidal thoughts. He's shooting for the cold comfort

in between these two, which he already knows will lead to feeling sterile and less than human, the feelings that ultimately lead him to using drugs or contemplating suicide in the first place. It's a kind of endless cycle with no ideal options for escape. We can liken this to the two-sided loop that Frank sung about just before his interpolation of a fond farewell. Smith, like Ocean, is standing at the intersection of these two loops, these two paths of existence, and doesn't see an ideal way forward, doesn't see a way out of the loop. Just after this interpolation, we hear a subtle sample taken from the Beatles song Flying, from their album The Magical Mystery Tour.

I'll play first the passage of flying that was sampled, then immediately play the passage of Sigfried in which the sample is featured. After this brief instrumental interlude, we get a texture change in both the guitar and Frank's voice, which we'll examine right after the break. Welcome back to dissect. Before the break, we examined the interpolation featured in the middle section of Sigfried. After a brief instrumental interlude,

the guitar switches from its strum pattern to arpaeciated pluckings. Over this guitar part, Frank enters with a distorted spoken word passage. I cannot, well, I cannot. Frank begins, speaking of Nirvana. Nirvana represents the final goal in Buddhism, a transcendent state in which there's neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self. A person is released from the cycle of death and rebirth.

Thematically, this ties in perfectly with Frank's search for an escape from the inevitable loops or cycles of life and suffering. Nirvana is also the name of the iconic grunge rock band led by Kurt Cobain. Like Elliot Smith, Cobain was a heroin addict. who committed suicide, so saying, speaking of Nirvana, slightly references the Smith interpolation that comes just before this line. With all this talk of Nirvana and death, we're also reminded of the lyric in the song, Nights, I want to see Nirvana, but don't want to

die. We wonder if amidst all his existential musings on Sigfried, Frank might be thinking about suicide as an option to escape life's unavoidable loops of suffering. Like we mentioned earlier, there are few models for Frank to look to for guidance in his unique life. Both Elliot Smith and Kurt Cobain represent one type of model, successful artists who turn to drugs and suicide to escape the suffering they still felt after finding success. SIGFRI continues, speaking of Nirvana, it was there, rare as the feathers on my dash from a phoenix. Seeing that Frank will in just a few lines speak extensively about dreaming, it would seem he's referencing here a dream catcher hanging from his rearview mirror.

The feathers come from a phoenix, which is a mythical bird that sets itself on fire every 500 years, something we can liken to a kind of suicide. The phoenix is then reborn, rising from its own ashes to start another life. Again, we're getting thematic allusions to life cycles, loops, and rebirth, even positioning suicide as a kind of rebirth. Because the phoenix is set of fire, there's very few feathers to be found. Frank likens these rare feathers to his rare glimpses at Nirvana, which he describes in the following lines, there with my crooked teeth and companion and sleeping. Here, Frank may be referencing the love interest outlined in the opening few lines of the song, relating their moments of intimacy as a type of nirvana. Frank continues, dreaming of a thought

that could dream about a thought, that could think of the dreamer that thought, that could think of dreaming and getting a glimmer of God. This is a kind of word or thought loop, perhaps induced by psychedelics, tying back into Siegfried's persistent themes of cycles and loops. In a dream within a dream, Frank thinks about a dreamer who is able to get a glimpse of God through his dreams. This seems to imply that nirvana, God, or a higher being, exists in the dimensions or creases between reality and dreams, many times removed from our day-to-day consciousness. Frank then repeats a variation of this passage, with one major difference.

He says, I'd be dreaming of dreaming a thought that could dream about a thought, that could think of dreaming a dream where I cannot, where I cannot. In this variation, he doesn't dream of a dreamer. Rather, the thought change stays personal to him, and he's unable to see the glimmer of God himself, hence the line, where I cannot. It's not clear to me exactly what this implies, but we might wonder if this lack of clarity or vision represents the kind of emotional and existential paralysis he's expressed throughout Sigfried, a search for something he hasn't yet found, be it nirvana, God, or a meaningful path forward.

Sigfried continues with another spoken word-style passage, only this time the distortion is removed and his voice is more clear and present, which he cleverly acknowledges with the opening line, less morose and more present. Less morose and more present. Dwell on my gifts for a second. A moment. One solar flare would consume, so why not?

Spin this flammable paper on the film that's my life. High flights. Inhale the vapor, exhale once and think twice. Eat some shrooms, maybe have a good cry about you. See some colors, light hang glide off the moon in the dark. Aside from acknowledging the changing timbre of his voice, the line, less morose and more present, seemed to signal a shift in perspective. He vows to be more present.

He wants to escape the morose thoughts that have filled Siegfried up until this point and become more attuned to the present moment, what's directly in front of him. Frank continues, dwell on my gifts for a second. Gifts is a clever word play on the word present. Rather than letting the existential dread consume and paralyze him, he's going to attempt to focus on the gifts in his life, the primary gift perhaps being life itself. He continues,

A moment, one solar flare were consumed. A solar flare is a giant explosion on the surface of the sun that sends energy and particles streaming off into space. The earth was nearly struck by a massive solar flare in 2012, and according to scientists, there's a solid chance of one striking within the next 100 years. Frank imagines this potentially apocalyptic scenario, if only to express the fragility and uncertainty of life. This realization inspires action in the next lines, so why not spend this flammable paper on the film that's my life? Here Frank is playing off the fire of a solar flare, linking that to flammable paper or money.

He asks why he shouldn't spend his money to make his life the best movie or experience possible, given that at any moment the world can end. Flammable paper also cleverly references the old-style camera. cameras that use film made of nitrocellulose, an extremely flammable substance. Frank continues, High flights, inhale the vapor, exhale once and think twice. High flights seems to infer traveling, something he does to make the movie of his life more adventurous. It also acts as a bridge to several drug references as he gets high by inhaling the vapor of that flammable paper, which we now realize has a double meaning of rolling papers that make a joint. The drugs make him think twice or expand his

consciousness, a thought that continues in the next lines, eat some shrooms, maybe have a good cry about you, see some colors, light hang glide off the moon. Of course, Frank here is describing the effects of psilocybin mushrooms. He's having colorful visions and imagines hang gliding from atop the moon. He also says, maybe have a good cry about you. This seems to be a return back to the love interest described in the opening lines of Sigfried, a thread that's carried into the song's outro. After imagining himself hang gliding off the moon, we might wonder if in the dark, I do everything first refers to flying through space. This then becomes interjected between Frank singing,

I'd do anything for you. in the dark then takes on a new meaning as an addendum to I'd do anything for you. There's a number of ways to read these lines when paired together. Doing anything in the dark could be a sexual innuendo. We also consider that after Frank's expansive existential meditation on his place in the universe, he's now able to clarify with simplicity and precision his dedication to this person. Given all the references to loops, cycles, and rebirth throughout the track, when we view the end of SIGFried as a kind of return to its beginning,

we realize that the song itself is a loop, with Frank undergoing a metaphysical or spiritual transformation over the course of the song. He returns to his lover, able now to express what he could not in the song's opening moments. We hear then a juxtaposition between the infinite and the intimate, the boundless dark and mystery of life in the universe, set against a conclusive, simple but profound pronouncement of love, a kind of infinity in its own right. Conclusions. Frank Ocean's Siegfried is an existential multi-layered portrait of the interoperative. struggles of a young adult. We find Frank confronting his insecurities as he seeks to overcome expectations of conformity while also wishing to escape the burning house that was his life in Los Angeles

post Channel Orange. Given the timing of its original composition, somewhere between mid-2012 and early 2013, we might infer Sigfried to be the cathartic meditation before Frank's disappearance from the public eye. We recall that directly after Channel Orange's release, Frank lived a comparatively more traditional life of a successful artist. He appeared on late-night talk shows, performed at the Grammys, he toured, he did a handful of interviews, all the things that present-day Frank Ocean habitually avoids. Sigmfried seems to be in part an examination of a life he ultimately came to reject, thus beginning his withdrawal from the limelight and into the shadows where he'd seek to find a more meaningful and fulfilling life. Frank shows his vulnerability in the face of this decision

throughout Sigfried, repeatedly exclaiming, I'm not brave, and second-guessing his eventual path forward. We also recall that Frank was heralded a hero after he publicly revealed his sexuality in his open letter. We might wonder whether some of Frank's claims of insufficient bravery might be aimed at the pressures he must have felt to become a model or spokesperson for the queer community. As DJ booth writer Brendan Varen penned, quote, I'm not brave is not just repeated, it shouted, as if in backlash to those trying to affix the label to him. I'm Not Brave isn't just an admission, it also acts as a rallying cry, for all those who've stared into the eyes of what they must do and felt scared, unfit, or unworthy."

Indeed, while we can interpret Sigfried through the lens of Frank's own life and personal challenges, its emotional and spiritual resonance is most felt when we strip away its specifics and view the song as a universal expression of its themes, insecurity while confronting a necessary rebirth, second-guessing in the face of forging independence, feeling alienated amongst the status quo, and the consequences of all these feelings when presented with the chance at love. It's when societal and or familial expectations of your life are at odds with your own instincts, when the future you envision for yourself conflicts with the vision of your parents, your partner, your boss, or society at large. It's about the survival of the independent spirit, the resistance to sacrifice who you are to become

who someone else wants you to be. It's about confronting the fear and self-doubt when faced with these pressures and pushing past them. And by the end of Sigfried, it would seem that Frank has done exactly that, both in song and in life. The spoken word passage that concludes Sigfried, which we might assume was written sometime after the song's first half, details his alternative to the morose thoughts and existential dread revealed throughout the track. He speaks of making the most of the movie that is his life by prioritizing experience, through travel, through drugs, through friends and lovers. We've heard such experiences documented throughout Blonde, and they fill the pages of the magazine Boys Don't Cry that was released in tandem with the album. Indeed, for anyone

curious just what the mysterious and elusive Frank Ocean was up to during the years between Channel Orange and Blonde, he's actually laid it out quite transparently in Boys Don't Cry, something he addresses in its opening letter. Quote, My memories are in these pages. places close by and long ass-numbing flights away, cruising the suburbs of Tokyo and RWB Porsches, throwing parties around England and mobbing freeways in four Project M3s that I built with some friends, going to Mississippi and playing in the mud with amphibious quads,

streetcasting models at a random Kung Fu Dojo out in Senegal, commissioning life-sized toy boxes for the fuck of it, shooting a music video for fun with Tyrone LeBond, the genius giant, taking a break slash reconnaissance mission in Touloum, Mexico, enjoying some star visibility for a change, recording in Tokyo, NYC, Miami, L.A., London, Paris, stopping in Berlin to witness Bergen for myself, unquote. These experiences are clearly not two kids in a swimming pool, not the experiences of someone who conform to the expectations of those around him.

They're the experiences of someone who push past external pressures in favor of internal instinct, someone who, like the archetypal hero Sigfried, transcended fear, forging a life based on their intuition to preserve independence. Their experiences of someone who walked through the fire of their own insecurities and not only survived, but thrived. Indeed, as Frank Ocean told the New York Times, quote, I'm in a very different place than I was four or five years ago with all that stuff, different in my relationship with myself, which means everything. There's no shame or self-loathing. there's no crisis unquote. After experiencing a song like Sigfried,

we might ask ourselves, how much of our own life is lived inside the idea of another man's mind, how much of our life's movie is directed by someone else, how much is rendered mundane or limited because of a fear of the outside, because of insecurity, because we dread the judgment of our parents, our friends, our partners, or society at large. How brave can we become in our true conscious acknowledgement of such influences,

an acknowledgement that is almost certain to be excruciatingly humbling and has the potential to trigger a personal existential crisis not unsimilar to the one Frank displays on Siegfried. And further, once acknowledged, can we find the courage to light ourselves a fire like a phoenix in order to be reborn, to transcend our fears, to grow past our insecurities,

and with the resurrection of the potential deep within us all, escape from the ideas inside the minds of others, and become not actors, but auturors, of the film that is our life.