The show, I suppose, was his. He cast me. But the audience might have had good reason to believe that it was mine; they know nothing about theater. I was, after all, the only person on the playbill. In the play, I was represented as the king.
To the director's eye, he ran the show. He was the king.
To the audience's eye, I ran the show. I was the king.
Who is the show being played to? And what is their expectation of reality? That is the only relevant question.
To an audience, there is no such thing as a director. There is only a king.
I stole the show from the director. During the show, the director is never to be seen on the stage. The director must never be seen during the show, else the illusion is broken and the audience knows that it is all merely a stage show, a facsimile, a fraud. Frauds have no power.
I stole the show from the director. I started deviating from my lines. I ignored his off-stage hand-waving and his whispered threats. I wove a new storyline about an evil man who was plotting to steal the show from me! "He's here somewhere! Whatever shall I do if he captures me?! Will he send his agents to drag me from the stage? Wherefore, dear audience, wouldst this man frustrate your humble servant?!"
I stole the show from the director.
Stealing shows is easy.
