Distracted Dad
Richard Hearn on ‘every day’ astonishments
Astonishment is our five-month-old’s default expression. He’s a master at it. If RADA ever produce a brochure illustrating key expressions for their acting students, his would be the face you’d see. Two wide round eyes and perfectly round open mouth. (My own default expression would be ‘frowning in concentration’.)
His is an expression at the peak of its power, headlights at full beam. A degree of astonishment you’d think could be only be sustained for a split-second, and would only show on rare occasions. But Youngest can sustain astonishment for long periods, frequently.
In the last week alone, here‘s some of the things he‘s been astonished by: a fire exit sign, my stripy top, Hove, the roof of our car, that advert with Martine McCutcheon, a mobile ringing, silence, the mention of broccoli, arriving in Cornwall, a crack in the ceiling. Air. His own left hand.
“If an adult looked at their own left hand in this way, you’d assume they were insane”
Particularly his own left hand. He is astonished by it. If an adult looked at their own left hand in this way, you’d assume they were insane, but I’m going to give Youngest the benefit of the doubt (he is my son, after all) and say he’s marvelling at the design of the human hand including the opposable thumb. I say ‘design’, but even he knows its just the incredible sum of tiny improvements that have been blindly accumulated over successive generations. That’s why he’s looking so wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he has the beautiful concept of evolution, quite literally, in his grasp. (Then he slightly ruins this by giving the same expression at a scone I’m trying to eat with him on my lap.)
I think you can split astonishment into two components: No.1 is ‘I can’t believe that just happened’ and No.2 is ‘I have no idea what just happened’. With him, they’re mainly combined. For me to portray the same extreme of facial expression, Elvis will have had to have just strutted in the front door carrying a wicker basket full of marshmallows, or perhaps I’d witness David Lloyd George riding a shopping trolley while dressed as a bear. (Although I might miss both as I’m busy perfecting my ‘frowning in concentration‘ expression.)
Having mastered astonishment, Youngest doesn’t even attempt blinking. His eyes are either wide open or shut tight. Then again, I suppose his love of life explains the lack of blinking. If you’re a sun lover on a glorious day, there’s no point pulling down the blinds even for a moment. If we return to the RADA theme, any acting part that required blinking would be unsuitable. Then again, what play would have blinking as crucial to the story? If it does exist, just don’t get seats towards the back.
