One hack taught to actors and politicians is to say lines while keeping their head perfectly still. It makes them seem more impressive.
This trick works because of status. Status is an invaluable concept for talking about human interaction. A book about acting and improvisation (Impro by Keith Johnstone) convinced me of this.
If you divide a group of people in a room into As and Bs, get them to talk in pairs, and ask the As to blink as little as possible and ask the Bs to blink much more frequently, something funny happens: the As begin to speak much slower, tend to stand straighter, and so on, whereas the Bs constrict their posture, look distinctly uncomfortable, tend to point their toes inward. In short, the ‘A’s are playing high status and ‘B’s are playing low.
In this sense, ‘status’ describes a set of behaviours. So a servant could play higher status than a king. (“Your Highness, that was rather stupid of you.” “But Jeeves, I thought it would make him go away!” “Nonsense, your Majesty…” etc.) High status behaviours include: blinking less frequently, speaking with a fixed rather than a moving head, open postures, pointing toes outwards rather than inwards, resonant voice, straight spine, slower movements, smiling baring both sets of teeth rather than just the top, qualifying one’s sentences less often, and many more. Try saying Clint Eastwood’s line ‘Feeling lucky, punk?’ while moving your head, then saying it with a perfectly fixed head and unblinking stare. The line doesn’t work unless you behave a certain way.
Status also relates to space. Servants bow, kneel, prostrate themselves, shutting off themselves from the space around them. A common way of humiliating someone is to attack them while refusing to let them ‘switch off’: drill sergeants will yell an inch away from a soldier’s face.
Grabbing the head or touching the face of someone, and not being rebuffed, is a sign of high status. Watch the behaviour of generals before a battle in movies, e.g. Aragorn. They’ll often grab the back of the head, or the neck, of a soldier when bolstering their courage.
You have friendlier feelings towards people who you can safely play status games with, i.e. whose status you can lower, and who can lower yours, without recrimination. Good friends can spend hours which consist of hardly anything except joking insults. Whereas you could know someone for a long time and still behave relatively formally, which means being careful to maintain roughly equal status.
One could see tragedy as the expulsion of the high-status animal out of the pack. It works far better if the lead is high status – notice how many heroes of tragic drama were kings/princes/generals.
Observe people at work and how their physical behaviours change when talking to managers/seniors compared to how they talk to subordinates. When talking to subordinates, people tend to make more eye contact, blink less, make more expansive gestures, talk with more resonant voices. This is reversed when talking to ‘superiors’. You can create tension by playing high status to ‘superiors’, which, if they are insecure, will make them ‘put you in your place’ by displays of domination. To make people like you, play roughly equal status to them.
What you end up realising, after reading Impro, is that no human interaction is without status transactions, even of the most minute sort. A common drama exercise is to have two people doing an exercise where they have to minimize the status difference between themselves. The acting suddenly looks ‘real’: the actors focus on each other, and the command ‘minimize status differences’ captures a whole lot of complex behaviours that the actors can perform without consciously thinking about – because they do it in real life anyway.