Who is directing whom?
A voice gives an instruction. Two performers test it. A phone enters the frame, and a second camera watches the first.
Before anyone can answer, the rehearsal has already changed authors.
This is not evidence of a private couple breaking up.
The breakup is a proposition—material placed in public so that everyone in the room can push back.
3P begins with Performing, but performance here is not the polished result.
It is the moment a suggestion acquires a body.
A line becomes a posture; a posture provokes a correction; the correction becomes the next event.
The performers do not simply deliver a director's idea.
Their timing, discomfort, refusal, and invention make decisions the instruction could never make on its own.
The second P is Peering: looking closely, and being caught in the act of looking.
One image holds several positions at once—the performer, the witness, the phone, the fixed camera, and the person deciding where to stand.
None of them sees the whole rehearsal.
Each angle selects a different event, so observation is never neutral.
To peer is already to edit the room.
The third P is Processing.
A gesture is performed, watched, recorded, replayed, discussed, and returned to the bodies that made it.
The camera does not wait outside this cycle.
Its distance, delay, and framing become new instructions.
The rehearsal thinks by processing what has just happened, before anyone can stabilize a single meaning.
A rehearsal becomes interesting precisely when the scene stops obeying.
An instruction lands badly. A body hesitates. Someone laughs. Another person interferes.
These are not errors to remove from the final work; they are information about the work.
Refusal reveals the hidden demand inside a direction.
Confusion shows that the supposed author and the actual event are no longer the same thing.
The title director suggests a stable center, but direction keeps moving.
It passes from the person who proposes the breakup, to the performer who changes its temperature, to the witness who reframes it, and to the camera that preserves one version while losing another.
Credit may remain singular; creation does not.
The scene is directed by a temporary distribution of attention.
What, then, is being rehearsed?
Not a private romance, and not a perfect scene waiting to be discovered.
What is rehearsed is a way of thinking in public: acting before certainty, watching without possessing, and changing course when the room answers back.
3P—Performing, Peering, Processing—names that circulation.
The question is not whether the director disappears. It is whether direction can remain answerable to everyone who makes the event possible.