Marcel Marceau has died, at 84.
I was lucky enough to see him perform. One man, in whiteface, on a bare stage. By the end of the performance I couldn't count the number of scenes, of characters, of props, in my memory—none of which had any physical existence on that stage, except for the one man, in a single costume. He had managed, without even speaking, to transport an entire world from his imagination to ours.
It was an exercise in mystery.
