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What Does “What Should We Do?” Do? Language and Action in Shoot Self with You

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Following questions, role names and words of beginning and ending in published long-form criticism, this essay examines how lines change actions. It treats language as something happening while leaving room for different interpretations of the same words.

P4 Theater website essay · 2026-09-08

Hear more than what a sentence expresses

The easiest approach to a dialogue-heavy film is to search for a key line, copy it down and use it to summarise the theme. Yet separated from the pauses, actions and answers around it, a sentence often becomes a more complete declaration than the original scene. A character may be hesitating while the excerpt reads as a conclusion. Understanding may not have been reached in the event, while a circulating quotation appears to settle the question for everyone.

The public essay How Words Betray People, published in 2026, proposes another way of reading: follow changes in words such as “what should we do?”, “must”, “may”, “director” and “game” in Shoot Self with You.1 This essay treats that critique, credited to Xiang Ye, as an object of analysis. It does not directly treat every summary of dialogue or judgment of a character's psychology in it as a verified fact about the film.

Its most productive direction is the move from meaning towards action. The same question can ask for help, postpone a decision or return to one person a problem that should have been faced together. To determine which is happening, we need to keep attending to who speaks next, who moves, who is left behind and whether the situation changes through the response.

“What should we do?”: offering room or demanding a solution?

“Then what would you like to do?” can be a considerate question because it does not rush to arrange an answer for someone else. It can also become a heavy demand because the person asked cannot yet organise an answer. The sentence alone cannot decide between these situations for us.

The original critique interprets recurring questions as a process in which responsibility is returned.1 This is a powerful interpretation. To make it firmer, however, differences between the questions need to be distinguished: does the speaker leave time to wait, offer specific kinds of help to choose from, or accept that the other person does not yet know? Without these details, readers may treat every question as the same oppression and lose the ability to discern the particular event.

The distinction is especially important for collective situations of the kind found at P4. Open communication is not without burdens. The more authentic expression is emphasised, the more participants may feel obliged to say something sufficiently true and meaningful. Those sustaining a conversation then face a practical difficulty: how can “I don't know” remain an acceptable response rather than become another failure to be questioned?

How role names begin to allocate work

Director, performer and spectator describe identities and arrange expectations. Someone called a performer is often expected to keep acting; someone called a director may be expected to resolve an impasse; someone called a spectator may be allowed not to respond for the time being. The more natural the names sound, the easier it is to miss the obligations within them.

How Words Betray People reads changes in role names as a process in which people gradually enter replaceable positions.1 By comparison, the 2021 open call for Duel Club distinguishes players from voting spectators before the event begins.2 Although the materials concern different times and works, they both show that roles are sometimes arranged in advance by an announcement and sometimes reassigned through speech within an event.

Their differences must still be retained. Roles in a recruitment notice can be read beforehand; a name arising unexpectedly during an event must be assessed on the spot. Does an apparently playful “You be the director” merely change a name within the game, or also transfer responsibility for determining other people's actions? What is actually carried out afterwards decides. Language analysis cannot stop at how impressive a title sounds.

Rules keep an event moving and may conceal unresolved problems

A game gives shared activity an executable next step. People need not resolve every disagreement before trying an action under a rule. This is the productive capacity of rules: they allow people who do not fully understand one another to do things together.

Continuing to act, however, is not the same result as resolving a disagreement. The original critique is particularly wary of games turning an uncomprehended situation into a watchable procedure.1 That caution is useful, but should be considered alongside the help rules provide. A game may temporarily release someone from the pressure to explain themselves, or increase the pressure to complete a task. Judgment requires attention to specific ways of participating rather than making “game” a predetermined synonym for freedom or control.

A passage of an event can be approached through four successive questions: who proposes the rule, how participants understand it, whether it can be revised when it does not fit, and who is affected by the revision. Language then becomes more than content on a script. It becomes a clue to how a work organises time and bodies.

What remains after “the end” is spoken?

A performance can end as a procedure without participants immediately completing their understanding of it. Looking back on Last Rehearsal in I Disappeared, Jia Rui explicitly distinguishes established staging from questions outside the script that arose just before leaving the stage. The account also describes confusion when facing others' evaluations after the performance.3 It shows that language after an ending continues to reorganise what has just happened.

The scope of this first-person account needs to be respected. It offers one participant's experience, not a conclusion shared by everyone, and cannot directly explain every character of the same name in the film. Distinguishing a person's recollection from a character within a work allows both to retain their complexity.

Reading language in Shoot Self with You can remain a concrete, open task. Before deciding the final meaning of a line, record whom it brings to which position. Is a request answered? Does a name change a responsibility? Does a rule permit adjustment? Does an ending actually end the obligation to respond? Such records come closer to what language does within an event than a set of more polished quotations.

Sources and original texts

  1. How Words Betray People: The Original Language Structure of Shoot Self with You — Credited in the original as Xiang Ye, 2026-05-03

2. Call for Performers/Players | Duel Club: A Real-Life Battle Royale! — Purple Action, 2021-09-25

3. Shoot Self with You | I Disappeared — After Performing Last Rehearsal — Jia Rui (identified in the body text) / published by P4, 2023-09-02

An essay for the P4 Theater website, based on public archives. Its analysis is not presented as the direct speech of He Fa or other participants; historical source texts retain their own credits and dates.

Chinese webpage: https://p4theater.cn/knowledge/language-and-action/

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