Stage fright is a state of morbid anxiety disturbing the sense of poise. This, at least, is how it makes its appearance at a certain point; for, like all morbid states, stage fright proceeds through various phases. Thus I shall try to describe it longitudinally. Also, since not all anxiety states lay claim to the sense of poise, stage fright is a particular species of anxiety, and a psychological study of stage fright will involve more than an inquiry into the general nature of anxiety. We shall have to look into, for example, a psychology of poise. And as poise depends upon our anticipations of others’ receptions of how we are hoping to represent ourselves, we shall have occasion to account for feelings of personal fraudulence and the dread of exposure and to refer to a psychology of imposture.

Sören Brunen's background is in architecture, and he envisions a “Machine-Theatre” that would portray the development of situations through purely mechanical means. Figurer, performed by the Packett Troupe at the Pistol Teatern in Stockholm, represents an initial phase in the evolution toward such a performance.

In issue #17 of Théâtre et Université, the production is described as follows:

The basic development of Chilean theatre has been from amateur to professional. In this there are strong similarities to the theatrical movements of Argentina, Uruguay, and Brazil in the last thirty to forty years, but with one main difference: the renewal of modern Chilean theatre began in the universities, and these student groups in time became the theatrical establishment. This process, its initial aims accomplished, has now reached a dead end. And once again there is a search for new approaches and objectives.

The evolution of our contemporary theatre began in 1941 with Cervantes’ La guarda cuidadosa and Valle Inclán's Ligazón, presented by a group of University of Chile students which became the Experimental Theatre; in 1943 the Catholic University began a similar venture: the Teatro de Ensayo under the direction of Pedro de la Barra. Commercial theatre in this country, however, goes back to the nineteenth century.

Generally, the person least equipped to talk about any Latin American cultural activity is a Latin American. Each of our countries is an isolated island arrogantly disparaging every other country. We are not a continent. We are an archipelago: nineteen cases of nationalism and of an astute reactionary politics which divides and exalts the small differences that separate us. Any Chilean or Argentine writer is perfectly familiar with the roster of productions in New York, Paris, and London. But he hasn't the slightest idea what has been written or staged in the last twenty years in Peru or Mexico. Any Latin American theatrical director receives publications in three languages, but if he wants to read a book on Colombian or Uruguayan theatre, it is likely that he can find it only in the library of a romance language department or theatre department of a university—in the U.S.