Here is a BAD example of pacing. 

Pacing.  Too slow, and it lags, falls apart as the seams become unraveled and frayed; too fast, and it is obliterated. Although tempo markings can help be a guideline in music, pacing is an essential part of all subjects. Without proper pacing, a heart beat would either be too slow, thus not allowing oxygen to reach the brain, and not allowing hydrogen to exit the body, or too fast, and the heart tires out and stops functioning. No speech or play, however beautifully written, would sound natural and just on the ears if the pace is lost. 


Probably the greatest mind to ever touch the English language, William Shakespeare, composed his works with an intrinsic pace; in high school, we learn to call this iambic pentameter. This style has a unique rhythm of five groupings of an unstressed syllable, followed by one stressed one. This format is true genius; no one has been able to duplicate this form in the 500 years we have marveled at his masterpieces.

Probably pop culture's most regarded snippet of Shakespeare (along with certain parts of Romeo & Juliet) is the famous soliloquy of Hamlet, Act III. As observed in Laurence Olivier's iconic 1948 interpretation, it is very classically paced, and feels very much in tune with the original theatrical plays of Shakespeare world (some would even say that it is as if Olivier is thinking up the lines as if in an improvisation - he is truly a master interpreter).

However, some might say that Olivier's performance can seem antiquated, especially to those looking to break cliches to younger generations. Fortunately, there are as many interpretations of Shakespeare's works as there are joules of energy released in a gamma-ray burst. Below is Ian McKellen (better known in the modern day as Gandalf and Magneto) performing in the 1976 version of Macbeth. Even at the very beginning of his soliloquy, he colors with silence, as well as tone, to add to the tension, and as the pauses get shorter, there is an ever growing hint of pent up anguish and grief.

Lastly, we have Patrick Stewart (aka Jean-Luc Picard) in his refreshing take on Macbeth's Tomorrow. The setting is rather unique for a Shakespeare play-turned-movie, as the film explores a medical wing during an early twentieth-century war. Patrick Stewart's pacing is a bit quicker, which helps give his version a more bitter overtone; it sounds close to desperate - he doesn't even seem surprised at the death of the Queen.

As for purely musical pieces, a tempo marking, as stated above, is not a strict rule to follow. Some sections flow better when slightly faster or slower than the indicated tempo. Bach was a supergenius of pacing, arguably the Shakespeare of music. His Baroque era was focused on expressing multiple emotions simultaneously during a movement, with tension and release between them, while the tempo was mostly constant, or motoric. However, TIMING changes when there is a sudden emotional switch in the music. Bach's Cello Suite No. 1, Prelude, has been world-renowned for centuries for its plethora of emotional degrees, differing each time to each listener. Yet the tempo remains constant, and it is up to the individual performer to hold a note slightly longer, or to push a phrase a little more to alter the mood by tiny, yet significant degrees.  Beauty is truly formed by the details.

Even the most avant-garde contemporary pieces can have appropriate and appealing pacing. Although not quite as obvious to both the performer and listener as more "classical" works, there is an ebb and flow to them. Looking at Luciano Berio's series of unaccompanied sequenzas, such as his  Sequenza IXa for clarinet, there is a refined vocal approach that can prove quite interesting when applied specifically to timing (certain notes are even indicated to be played between 8 and 12 seconds, for example). Berio originally wrote it to explore the physics of the instrument, but when played melodically and vocally, pacing, again, becomes much more apparent. The treatment of silence is fundamental in these more modern pieces; lacking familiarity, this humanist approach to pacing is the only timeless aspect for today's audiences to latch on to.

Perhaps the most common arena to find pacing in today's world is cinema. You have actors who must portray characters not as exaggerated stereotypes, but as real people.  Yet, they still have to remain "flawless" in the execution of lines and pacing. Would Jurassic Park be quite the same if "Dodgson! DODGSON! WE'VE DODGSON HERE!!" was projected in the same nonchalant manner as  "See. Nobody cares...nice hat". No, of course not! 


One of the best examples of BRILLIANT pacing in movies would be a haunting scene from another Spielberg movie, Jaws. The dialogue between characters is perfectly portrayed, but the monologue of Robert Shaw is absolutely incredible! The cold, methodical, deliberate manner in which he uses to describe the worst shark attack in recorded history appropriately mimics the way the sharks themselves attack. You are left feeling that Robert Shaw, not to mention his character, Captain Quint, was actually there - the pacing is truly evocative of the event, as well as the tragic nature of the film (and his character's inspiration, Captain Ahab).

Truly, pacing makes all the difference in the world when you take into consideration atmosphere, mood, and the emotional impact that any work of art has. Well practiced and performed pacing is what it takes to transform mediocre performance into a truly transcendent one.  A general pace is set out by writer, composer, life; it is the RESPONSIBILITY of us as individual performers to develop and nurture this sometimes missing magical element. Every person has a different heartbeat - some even skip beats.  Even the mos "popular" requires craft and skill to accurately pace convey character and mindset as visceral and realistic as possible.


To have the greatest of pacing is to not even notice pacing.  The greatest pacing is simply "to flow."

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