The live theatre is imperfect. It is always disappointing to be a part of a production that requires 100% perfection in every sense because that expectation of perfection is guaranteed to fail one hundred percent of the time. Remember: The only thing we find with a 100% rate of success is death — and we spend our lives running away from, and betting against, that mortal guarantee.
How did we come to expect, as a people, that anything is 100% achievable?
We kill all the pigs to remove the threat of Swine Flu — only to fill the roads with garbage.
Do we tempt the wrath of the Gods by publicly proclaiming the total eradication of Smallpox from the face of the earth? Does any reasonable mind truly believe we will never see Smallpox erupt to kill again?
We must temper our expectation with the reality of common experience. Only the Gods are perfect and we must leave any and all guarantees in their vicious hands.
We are imperfect people seeking to do more good than bad and to live more right than wrong — and the live stage must reflexively inform that tenuous human condition — or we fail in our effort to record the minutiae of human life that can leap forward and kill a generation in a single sneeze or droplet.