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the difference between conflict and noise

Writer: Michael David
Michael David
Jun 13
2 min read

One of the most common mistakes in playwriting is confusing conflict with noise.


Noise is easy. Conflict is hard.


Noise is shouting, arguing, insults, slammed doors, threats, interruptions, and emotional outbursts. It creates activity on stage, but activity alone is not drama.


Conflict occurs when two people want incompatible things and neither is willing to give way.


A husband and wife screaming at each other for ten minutes may be noisy, but if nothing is truly at stake and neither is pursuing a specific objective, the scene is dramatically empty.


By contrast, two people quietly discussing dinner can be filled with conflict if one wants to save the marriage and the other has already decided to leave.


The volume is low. The stakes are high.


Consider the plays of Harold Pinter. His characters often speak in pauses, half-sentences, and seemingly mundane exchanges. Yet beneath the surface, power shifts constantly. The conflict is palpable even when nobody raises their voice.


The same is true in the work of Anton Chekhov. Characters talk about weather, tea, or a distant future, while underneath they battle disappointment, desire, regret, and unfulfilled ambition. The conflict is internal and relational, not noisy.


Noise asks:

"How can I make this scene more dramatic?"


Conflict asks:

"What does each character want, and what is preventing them from getting it?"


When playwrights rely on noise, scenes often feel repetitive. Characters argue in circles. The emotional temperature is high, but the dramatic movement is low.


Real conflict creates change. Someone gains power. Someone loses it. A secret emerges. A decision is made. A relationship shifts.


The audience does not remember how loud a scene was.

They remember the moment a character finally said what they had been avoiding, the moment a lie was exposed, the moment a dream died, or the moment someone chose to fight for what mattered.


Theatre is not the art of noise.


It is the art of collision — between desires, values, needs, and fears.


When those forces collide, even a whisper can shake a room.

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