We all carry with us an invisible audience that from time to time emerges and joins in our action. Its members purr with pleasure when we make an ingeniously biting remark. They laugh silently at our well-turned witticism. They are indignant on our behalf when we speak out against some injustice.
People in plays often act to this audience, sometimes almost imperceptibly (Trigorin in Three Sisters), sometimes blatantly (Malvolio is constantly interrupted by applause from his invisible admirers —they never disagree with him, any more than ours do with us). King Lear carries with him an entourage that no daughter can dismiss, egging him on to ever more apocalyptic behaviours.
It may sound far-fetched, but anyone who saw Margaret Thatcher in her later days as Prime Minister would have noticed her follow up some flashing put-down with a look all about her so satisfied, so responsive, that one could almost hear the imaginary cries of: “Well done, Maggie!” “That’s the spirit, Maggie!” “You show ’em, Maggie!”
Accept the premise that some people are predominantly Subjects (as in the subject of a sentence, not in the royal sense of monarch and subject). Subjects are in command, they make the rules, they act. The verb is theirs. Above all, they are the ones who look. Others are Objects; they are aware of being looked at, of being acted upon, of being made to conform to another’s will. (We all, of course, change roles from time to time, Subject or Object, depending whether we are talking to the paperboy or our ex-headmaster.)
Often in plays the underlying dynamic consists of A trying to force B into the role of Object. He will keep him waiting before speaking; when he does speak, it will be from an angle that compels B to shift in order to see him. He will chase B by moving away while talking, so that B has to follow in order to hear what is being said. In particular, A tries to make B feel unable and consequently ashamed and consequently likely to do whatever A wants. For A is never ashamed; he can feel guilty, but that can be suppressed, unlike shame. The classic example is Iago turning Othello from Subject (military commander, successful lover) into Object (horribly aware that everyone is looking at him, laughing at him). Once Othello bases his behaviour on “What People Will Think,” he is no longer his own master; Iago can destroy him piecemeal.