Fantastic

Fantastic (pronounced fan-tas-tik)

(1) Conceived or appearing as if conceived by an unrestrained imagination; odd and remarkable; bizarre; grotesque; strange, weird or fanciful in conception or appearance (reflecting the original idea of fantasy +‎ -tic (the adjectival suffix)).

(2) A person who dresses or behaves eccentrically (obsolete, but still used in the sense “a fanciful or whimsical person” as a literary or poetic device on the model of “an exquisite”).

(3) Extraordinarily good; excellent.

(4) Something extreme or acute (now rare).

(5) Fanciful, whimsical or capricious (of people, ideas or concepts).

(6) Imaginary or groundless in not being based on reality; foolish or irrational.

(7) Extravagantly fanciful; marvelous.

(8) Great to an incredible extent; extreme; exorbitant.

(9) In architecture and design, extravagantly decorated or detailed; excessive ornamentation.

(10) Highly unrealistic or impractical; probably impossible; preposterous; absurd.

(11) Created in the mind; illusory; a flight of fancy.

1350–1400: From the Middle English fantastik (pertaining to the imaginative faculty), from the Middle French fantastique, from the Medieval Latin fantasticus, a variant of the Late Latin phantasticus, from the Ancient Greek φᾰντᾰστῐκός (phăntăstĭkós) (imaginary, fantastic; fictional; able to present the appearance (of something)), a derivative of phantázein (to make present to the eye or mind), the construct on the conceptual model of phānós (light, bright) or phaínein (to bring to light, cause to appear) + -tikos .  The –tikos suffix was commonly used to form adjectives.  The Greek τικός (-tikos) was derived from the noun τι (-tis) (“one who does” or “related to”).  Typically, when –tikos was appended to a word, it conveyed the sense of “being related to, characterized by, or pertaining to the base word”.  It was used also (n various contexts) to create adjectives that describe qualities or characteristics associated with the base word.  The ultimate source was the primitive Indo-European beh- (to shine).  The alternative forms fantastick, phantastic, phantastick & phantastique are all obsolete.  Fantastic & fantastical are nouns & adjectives, fantastication, fantasticness, fantasticity, fantasticalness & fantasticism are nouns, fantasticate & fantasticize are verbs, fantastically, fantasticly & fantastically are adverbs; the noun plural is fantastics.

Google Ngram: Fantasticly.

Google Ngram (a quantitative and not qualitative measure): Because of the way Google harvests data for their Ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, Ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts (typically a scanner might misread an “f” for a long “s” or a “u” for an “n”) of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI (artificial intelligence) should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Olivia Hussey (1951–2024) as Juliet in Romeo and Juliet (1968).

Most dictionaries seem now to list the once fashionable adverb fantasticly as “archaic” although none seem yet to have declared it extinct.  The statistics indicating a late twentieth century revival of use are a product of the proliferation of internet sites dealing with such words (dictionaries, thesauruses, style guides, lists of the rare or unusual etc).  Still, it’s there to be used and would add distinctiveness to a text but authors should be cautioned those having an AI (artificial intelligence) agent do the “proof reading” might find it flagged and it may not impress many flesh & blood editors there to render drafts “accessible”.  In the Old French there was the different adjectival form fantasieus meaning “weird; insane; make-believe” while in Medieval Latin fantasticus was used as a noun meaning “a lunatic; a madman”, adopted by William Shakespeare (1564–1616) in the Italian form fantastico (one who acts ridiculously).  That had an interesting history, the plural form (fantasticoes) appearing in Act 2, Scene 4 of Romeo and Juliet (1597), spoken by Mercutio: “The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes, these new tuners of accents!”.  That definitely was the noun being used in the sense of “a person full of wild, extravagant fancies or absurd ideas”, rather than as the modern adjective meaning “wonderful”.  What Shakespeare had Mercutio do was mock Tybalt and young, fashionable men who adopt affected Italian manners, fencing styles, and pretentious speech.  It was printed as “fantasticoes” in the early (1597) first Quarto printing of the play while editors of some later editions (including the widely-distributed 1623 First Folio) used the spelling phantacies (fantasies), though most versions have restored fantasticoes, not merely as a respect for the original but because the form better fits Mercutio's insult.    The “trivial” sense of “wonderful, marvellous” was in use by at least 1938.

In the creation of slang forms, elements of fantastic have contributed to portmanteau words including “fabtastic”, the construct a blend of fab(ulous) + (fan)tastic, “fantabulous”, the construct a blend of fanta(stic) + (fa)bulous, “fantasterrific”, the construct a blend of fantast(ic) + (t)errific, “funtastic”, the construct a blend of fun + (fan)tastic and “fantascience” (a now rare genre of fiction combining orthodox or speculative science with fantastical elements), the construct a blend of fanta(stic) + science.  Fabtastsic, fantabulous, fantasterrific and funtastic (there are others, some quite specific to circumstances) all are used in the sense of “wonderful, marvelous, outstanding (ie simultaneously both fantastic and fabulous) and often as a superlative (eg “a most fantabulous event”).  These coinings appear mostly a post-war phenomenon.

Fantastic magazine covers. Top row: January-February 1953, March 1953, August 1954; Middle row: August 1956, October 1956; November 1959; Bottom row: February 1960, May 1961, November 1963.

Fantastic was a US SF (Science Fiction) and fantasy magazine published between 1952 and 1980.  Founded as a fantasy companion to Amazing Stories (launched in 1926), so successful was Fantastic that the publisher soon closed their other titles serving the genre, merging all content.  Thematically, Fantastic tended to respond to the construct of the scientific zeitgeist in the popular imagination (ie what was appearing in film and on television) so subjects at times embraced included space travel, global thermo-nuclear war, visiting flying saucers and pandemics from other planets although, despite the range, there seemed often a justification for the covers to feature at least one scantily-clad young woman.  Fantastic published work by writers who would become well-known in the SF community but, rather improbably, pieces by Truman Capote (1924–1984) and Evelyn Waugh (1903-1966) also appeared.

A cleverly composed photograph by AP (Associated Press) photojournalist Tom Brenner (b 1994) with Donald Trump reflected in the lens of Susie Wiles' sunglasses, South Lawn of the White House, Washington DC, October 2026.

In the aftermath of the 2026 US congressional elections at which (for the Republican Party), things went either “as badly as expected” or “worse than expected”, it’s not known if Pete Hegseth (b 1980; US Secretary of Defense (and War) since 2025) was much assured by Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) saying of him he had done a “fantastic job” but if so, he might have considered that apparent endorsement in the light of the POTUS having just sacked his chief of staff (Susan Wiles (b 1957, chief of staff to the POTUS 2025-2026) despite a fortnight earlier, in response to a question asking if her was considering replacing her answering: “Zero chance, zero.  She’s phenomenal.”  The election results however seemed to focus Mr Trump’s mind and, after announcing her departure, he told the press Ms Wiles had done “a great job… but I just wanted to make a change”, later adding “We’ve got to make moves.  Sometimes in life, you have to make moves.”  Commentators in a number of places have taken some glee is tracking the large numbers of women dismissed from positions during the second Trump administration, contrasting that toll with the remarkable survival rate among the men, even those whose conduct in office has been less than stellar, one even subsequently appointed US ambassador to the UN (United Nations), an institution for which the POTUS has no fondness.  He probably thought of the job rather as Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 and POTUS 1969-1974) regarded the embassy in Upper Volta.

Pete Hegseth (in brown shoes, left) and Donald Trump (right) beneath flags, Marine Corps Base, Quantico, Virginia, October 2025.

Certainly, Mr Trump would have understood the point made by Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) who, in Their Finest Hour (The Second World War, Volume II, (1949)), writing of political leadership, observed: “If he trips he must be sustained.  If he makes mistakes they must be covered.  If he sleeps he must not be wantonly disturbed.  If he is no good he must be pole-axed.”  The historian Professor John Ramsden (1947–2009) summed up Churchill’s explanation of the mechanics of the process as “autocracy tempered by assassination”.  Even if not familiar with those passages, presumably Mr Hegseth is wondering if in the POTUS’s mind he’s being “sustained” or about to be “pole-axed” but anyway seems in no mood to admit making mistakes that would benefit from a “covering up”.  Addressing a rare press conference, when responding to a motion of impeachment introduced in the house by disaffected Republican Thomas Massie (b 1971, US Representative for Kentucky 4th congressional district since 2012) who’d been “primaried” by Mr Trump and was thus serving in his last congress, Mr Hegseth was combative, conceding nothing and comparing the unfairness of him being impeached with no such action being taken against Lloyd Austin (b 1953; US Secretary of Defense 2021-2025), despite the several grounds Mr Hegseth cited as a reasonable basis for Congress to take such a step.

In his address, Mr Hegseth managed also to use a phrase suggesting General Austin (an African-American) had been a “DEI” (diversity, equity & inclusion) appointment; Mr Massie’s motion was voted down in the (still) Republican-controlled chamber.  It was a set-piece performance by Mr Hegseth who has been criticized as appearing to be “a method actor auditioning for the part ‘strong, confident and decisive secretary of defense’”, the consensus being he’d likely not be offered the role because of a tendency to “over-act”.  In that, he was unlike the deliciously wicked Donald Rumsfeld (1932–2021: US Secretary of Defense 1975-1977 & 2001-2006) who was strong, confident and decisive, conveying exactly that with a clipped, precise, yet seemingly effortless delivery.  His predecessor’s political fate will however not much encourage Mr Hegseth, Mr Rumsfeld sacked by George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; POTUS 2001-2009) immediately after the Republicans were routed in the 2006 mid-term elections.  Most POTUSes have not found the attitude of Harry S. Truman (1884–1972; POTUS 1945-1953) helpful, preferring to have the buck stop somewhere lower down the chain of command. 

Doing a “fabulous job” of looking fabulous: Sydney Sweeney (b 1997) on the cover of Fabulous magazine, August 2025.

As a one-time employee of Fox News (with all that implies), Mr Hegseth will have noticed the similarity in personnel management practices between Mr Trump and Rupert Murdoch (b 1931), both very much of the “hire ‘em and fire ‘em” school and if dwelling on the POTUS saying he’d done a “fantastic job” while in charge of the Pentagon, he may recall it was President Bush minor who had sacked Colin Powell (1937–2021; US Secretary of State 2001-2005) a few months after telling the press at a gathering at his ranch in Crawford, Texas that general had done a “fabulous job” as his “vicar of foreign policy”.  Even at the time, nobody in the White House press corps could recall anyone in Texas ever being dubbed “fabulous” (except maybe in Oil Can Harry’s in Austin) so the conclusion was General Powell's political career prospects were not good.  So it proved.  How Mr Hegseth will determine whether it augers better if one’s boss says one is doing a “fantastic job” rather than a “fabulous job” isn’t known but what won’t be reassuring is that Mr Trump also doubtlessly agrees with Churchill about the circumstances when a swift pole-axing is demanded.

Donald Trump endorses Mr Hegseth's continuation in office, says he has done a “fantastic job” and explains why the “state of armed conflict” in the Persian Gulf is not a “war”.  Had it not been for certain recent events, he might have styled the venture a “special military operation”.

In February 1953, the prime minister had explained to his personal physician (Lord Moran, Charles Wilson, 1882-1977; president of the RCP (Royal College of Physicians) 1941-1949, personal physician to Winston Churchill 1940-1965) why he needed a referral to another eye specialist, Moran noting in his diary: “The P.M. asked me today if he could see another eye specialist.  ‘I have stuck to Juler [Dr Frank Anderson Juler (1888-1962), Ophthalmic Surgeon, St. Mary’s Hospital, London] for so long,’ he told me, ‘because he did discover the in-growing eyelashes when no one else did.  At that time my eyes were so bad I could not read, even official documents.  But he is stumped now, and we must change the bowling.’”  Other than polo and big game hunting (the latter still then thought by many a “sport”), Churchill took little interest in sport so may be forgiven for mixing his metaphors; in cricket it’s a batsman (the gender-neutral “batter” now preferred) who is “stumped” (ie the bails atop the wicket dislodged with the ball by the wicket keeper or other fieldsman (fielder) while the batter is “out of their crease”), the correct idiomatic phrase to describe an ineffective bowler being something like “hit out of the attack”.  It's doubtful Mr Hegseth knows much of the jargon of cricket but he'd get the idea.

Looking fantastic: Lindsay Lohan in skin-tight teal wetsuit during the filming of Freakier Friday (2025), Malibu Beach, California, August 2024.

Mr Hegseth has been a reformer within the US military and the POTUS has praised him as a “great warrior” who has re-oriented the military away from becoming a “woke institution”, pointing out it had become top-heavy and administratively bloated, more generals reputedly on the establishment than during World War II (1939-1945) when the largest conflict in human history was being prosecuted.  It seems the Pentagon proved as vulnerable as any to the phenomenon of “bureaucratic inertia” and other militaries have similarly been affected.  When in 1952 a delegation from the newly elected British government visited the embassy in Washington DC, instead of the expected handful of military liaison officers, there were over a hundred, nobody in London having ever reduced the establishment created during the war, by then over for more than six years.  Still, Mr Hegseth’s well-publicized assault on the “woke agenda” (ending DEI programmes and banning transgender soldiers from service, conducting testosterone tests on serving personnel etc) has acted like a lightning rod for the Democratic Party and his stance on these matters, combined with the “Iran war” that hasn’t gone as intended, mean impeachment may be re-visited when the new (Democrat controlled) congress assembles in January.  At that point, the word “fantastic” may start to be used of Mr Hegseth in one of its more ancient senses.

Fabulous

Fabulous (pronounced fab-yuh-luhs)

(1) Of or relating to fables; stories wholly or substantially of the imaginary and known of through myth or legend; something in the record known to be unhistorical.

(2) Characteristic of fables; marvelous, extraordinary, incredible.

(3) Almost impossible to believe; incredible.

(4) Fictional; made-up; a falsehood (the latter archaic in its disparaging sense).

(5) Exceptionally good or unusual, wonderful or superb.

(6) Fashionable, glamorous.

(7) In slang or as a euphemism, gay or pertaining to gay people; camp, effeminate ("a fabulousity" suggested as a collective noun for gay men but it never caught on) .

Circa 1550: From the Late Middle English fabulous & fabulose, from the Latin fābulōsus (celebrated in fable; rich in myth), the construct being fābul(a) (a story, a tale) + -ōsus (the adjectival suffix).  The –ōsus suffix (familiar in English as –ous) was from Classical Latin from -ōnt-to-s from -o-wont-to -s, the latter form a combination of two primitive Indo-European suffixes: -went & -wont.  Related to these were –entus and the Ancient Greek -εις (-eis) and all were used to form adjectives from nouns.  In Latin, -ōsus was added to a noun to form an adjective indicating an abundance of that noun.  As a literary genre (and some fables came from oral traditions) fables were stories told usually to make some moral point or illustrate the consequences of one’s actions and while they could sometimes involve fantastical creatures like winged stallions or unicorns, sometimes they involved fictional characters who were mere flesh & blood and even a multi-volume, epic-length novel like Don Quixote (1605-1615) by Miguel de Cervantes circa 1547–1616) can be thought a fable.  There is some evidence of use in the gay faction of the LGBTQQIAAOP community of fabulous as a (non-standard) noun, sometimes in the forms “uber-fabulous” & “ultra-fabulous” although those constructions are used also as adjectives of especial emphasis; that means there's a distinction between used in the “high camp” tradition and more generally.  Fabulous is an adjective, fabulousness & fabulosity are nouns, fabulize, fabulizing & fabulized are verbs and fabulously is an adverb; the use is the plural is rare but in informal use both fabulousnesses & fabulosities have been seen. 

Looking fabulous: Lindsay Lohan on the cover of Fabulous magazine, August 2010.

The original sense was “of or pertaining to fable” and dates from the 1550s.  The now familiar meaning shift began as early as the turn of the seventeenth century when the word was recorded as conveying the sense of “incredible”, extended soon to “enormous, immense; amazing”; by the mid-twentieth century, almost exclusively it meant “marvelous; wonderful, superb”.  The clipping to create the slang “fab” was in use by at least 1957 and that spiked after 1963 when the alliterative “fab four” was used to describe the pop group, The Beatles.  When in 1965 revising Henry Fowler’s (1858–1933), A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926), Sir Ernest Gowers (1880–1966) maintained his predecessor’s disapproval of much that was a bit too modern, noting that correctly, fabulous meant “…mythical, legendary, but was long ago extended to do duty as an adjective for something that is real but so astonishing that you might not think it was legendary if you did not know better.”, adding that it had “…become fabulously popular as a term of eulogy or allure.”  He seemed though to suspect it might be a “fad word”, noting it and its contracted forms “fab” & “fabs”, like “fantastic”, were perhaps the latest “…in that long list of words which boys and girls use for a time to express high commendation and then get tired of, such as, to go no farther back than the present century, topping, spiffing, ripping, wizard, super, posh & smashing.”

One suspects Henry Fowler and Sir Ernest would be impressed but not surprised by the churn-rate of “fad words” in the TikTok era.  Decades on however, “fab” seems to have endured and “fabulous” is entrenched in its familiar role, even the more recent portmanteau adjective fantabulous (the construct being fanta(stic) + (fa)bulous) surviving in its niche.  Fabulous probably gained a new lease of life when in the late 1960s it was picked up by the gay community as a “preferred word”, used it even as a noun; it remains an essential element in the camp vocabulary and the nuance can shift between adulation and indifference, just with a shift in the syllable-stressing or tone of voice.  Unless it’s between scholars, those wishing to convey the original meaning should probably use terms such as “fabled” or “mythological” rather than fabulous; even “legendary” can be ambiguous because it’s now often used to mean something like “famous” or “very well-known”.

Lindsay Lohan in an unusual cage cut-out top, the lines assuming or relaxing from the orthogonal as the body moves (maybe an instance of a "shifting semiorthogonal"), The World's First Fabulous Fund Fair in aid of the Naked Heart Foundation, The Roundhouse, London, February 2015.  An opportunity was missed by not adding a sympathetic clutch purse; an ensemble like this needs something to hold in one hand.

George W. Bush, Condoleezza Rice & Colin Powell.

The phrase “the fabulous invalid” refers to live theatre.  The reference come from a 1938 stage play of that name, written by George S. Kaufman (1889-1961) and Moss Hart (1904-1961), the work following the seesawing fortunes of a fictitious Broadway theatre between 1900-1930.  In a touching irony, while the play was barely a modest success and not highly regarded (even by its authors), as a phrase the title has endured not only as a reference to live theatre as a declining industry but also of stage productions generally.   George W. Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; POTUS 2001-2009) who (admittedly unwittingly) contributed more than most to coining new words & novel grammatical structures, probably wasn’t deliberately alluding the original meaning of fabulous when he used it to describe the performance of his first foreign minister, Colin Powell (1937–2021; US secretary of state 2001-2005) but if considered thus it certainly reflected his view the former general’s favorable public image reflected more myth than reality and he’d prefer a secretary of state who both ticked a few boxes and was better attuned to his more brutish world-view.

General Colin Powell with “two of his favourite” Volvo 122 Series cars (“Amazon” 1956-1970).

In Dr Condoleezza Rice (b 1954; US secretary of state 2005-2009) he certainly got that but in the run-up to the invasion of Iraq, whatever might have been his better judgment, the general did his job because, as Generalfeldmarschall (Field Marshal) Wilhelm Keitel (1882–1946; head of OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht, the German armed forces high command 1938-1945) put it during his unsuccessful defense at the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946): “For a soldier, orders are orders.”  General Powel's flirtation with politics has the quality of a fable and the story of Condoleezza Rice’s career in government even more so; a cautionary tale of what can happen when a nice young lady from a good family gets mixed up with “the wrong crowd” (Bush, Dick Cheney (1941-2025; VPOTUS 2001-2009), Donald Rumsfeld (1932–2021: US defense secretary 1975-1977 & 2001-2006) et al) who lead her astray.

White House transcript of press conference assembled when the president met with Colin Powell and Richard Armitage (b 1945; US deputy secretary of state 2001-2005) at his ranch in Crawford, Texas, Wednesday, 6 August, 2003:

THE PRESIDENT: First, it's been my real privilege and honor to welcome the Secretary of State back to Crawford. He and Dick Armitage came, and we spent yesterday evening and this morning talking about our country's desire to promote peace and freedom, our obligations as a prosperous and strong nation to help the less fortunate. And we had a good strategy session, and now we're about to go out and brand some cows -- well, not exactly. (Laughter)

QUESTION: Sir, you've seen the report that Secretary Powell and Secretary Armitage are going to leave at the end of this administration. Do you expect them to stay on if there is a second Bush administration? Would you like them to?

THE PRESIDENT: Well, first things first, we hope there is a second Bush administration. And I will work hard to convince the American people that their confidence in me is justified. And we'll deal with it at the right time.  Listen, this guy has done a fabulous job. Washington, particularly in August, is a dangerous period -- a dangerous time, because there's a lot of speculation. And all I can tell you is, the man flies to Crawford and we spend a good 24 hours talking about how we're going to work together to make the world a better place.

QUESTION: But, Mr. President, you said, we'll deal with it…

THE PRESIDENT: Yes, Elizabeth.

QUESTION: We'll deal with it at the right time. That isn't "yes".

THE PRESIDENT: Deal with what at the right time?

QUESTION: With whether Secretary Powell will serve in a second term. Is that, "yes" or "no"? I mean, are you going to offer him a spot in the second term?

SECRETARY POWELL: I don't have a term. I serve the President. (Laughter)

QUESTION: No, but the President…

THE PRESIDENT: Elizabeth, look, first things first, and that is, we've got a year-and-a-while during my first term to make the world a more peaceful place and we'll deal with it. Washington loves speculation. Clearly, you love speculation. You love it. You love to speculate about…

QUESTION: It wasn't my story. (Laughter.)

THE PRESIDENT: Let me finish, please; let me finish. You love to speculate about whether so-and-so is going to be a part of the administration or not. And I understand the game. But I have got to do my job, and I'm going to do it. And I'm going to do it with the Secretary of State. And the fact that he is here in Crawford, Texas, talking about issues of importance, should say loud and clear to the American people that he's completely engaged in doing what he needs to do, and that is, serve as a great Secretary of State.

QUESTION: Do you want to serve more than four years, Mr. Secretary?

SECRETARY POWELL: I serve at the pleasure of the President, and this is all August speculation with no basis in fact. There was no basis for this story to begin with, and we're doing our jobs together.

THE PRESIDENT: All right. We're going to get a burger. Thank you.

Like all in the cabinet, a secretary of state does “serve at the pleasure of the president” and historians seem at one in asserting it was the POTUS who delegated to his chief of staff the task of requesting the general tender his resignation.  It is no criticism of Mr Bush that he delayed this “constructive dismissal” until a few days after his re-election in November 2024; that’s just orthodox politics and the day after the letter was in his hands, he nominated Dr Rice as his new secretary of state.  Not long after the burgers were served at Crawford, stories appeared on the wire services noting it was most unusual in Texas to hear someone spoken of having “done a fabulous job” (it’s the sort of thing one hears in places like San Francisco) and speculation began it might be a phrase in the sporting tradition of “the coach has our full confidence”, not infrequently a prelude to a sacking after a string of losses. 

Act

Act (pronounced akt)

(1) Anything done, being done, or to be done; deed; performance.

(2) The process of doing.

(3) A formal decision, law, or the like, by a legislature, ruler, court, or other authority; decree or edict; statute; judgment, resolve, or award (with initial capital when part of a name).  An act is created by a legislature passing a bill.

(4) An instrument or document stating something done or transacted.

(5) One of the main divisions of a play or opera.

(6) A short performance by one or more entertainers, usually part of a variety show or radio or television program or the personnel of such a group.

(7) A false show; pretence; feint.

(8) In scholasticism (a medieval school of philosophy), (1) activity in process; operation, (2) the principle or power of operation, (3) form as determining essence & (4) a state of realization, as opposed to potentiality (an occurrence effected by the volition of a human agent, usually opposed at least as regards its explanation to one which is causally determined).

(9) To do something; exert energy or force; be employed or operative.

(10) To reach, make, or issue a decision on some matter.

(11) To operate or function in a particular way; perform specific duties or functions.

(12) To produce an effect; perform a function; to behave or conduct oneself in a particular fashion.

(13) To pretend; feign.

(14) to represent (a fictitious or historical character) with one's person; to perform as an actor.

(15) To serve or substitute (usually followed by for).

(16) To actuate, to move to action; to actuate; to animate (obsolete).

(17) As ACT, the initialization for Australian Capital Territory, a federal territory created for the establishment of Canberra as Australia’s capital city.

(18) In certain English universities, a thesis maintained publicly by a candidate for a degree, or to show the proficiency of a student.

(19) In mathematics, construed with on or upon, of a group; to map via a homomorphism to a group of automorphisms.

(20) In Scottish law, to enact, decree (obsolete).

(21) In slang, as "Dutch act", suicide.

1350–1400: From the Middle English act & acte, from the Old French acte, from the Latin ācta (register of events), plural of āctum (decree, law (later “something done”)), noun use of the past participle of agere (to set in motion, drive, drive forward", hence "to do, perform" and figuratively "incite to action; keep in movement, stir up" a verb with a broad range of meaning in Latin, including "act on stage, play the part of; plead a cause at law; chase; carry off, steal”), the construct being āg- (past participle stem) + -tum (the neuter past participle suffix) and directly from the Latin āctus (a doing; a driving, impulse, a setting in motion; a part in a play), the construct being āg- + -tus (the suffix of verbal action); the ultimate source was the primitive Indo-European héǵeti. The word partially displaced deed (which endured also to enjoy a specific meaning in law), from the Old English dǣd (act, deed).  Source of it all was the primitive Indo-European root ag- (to drive, draw out or forth, move).  Act is a noun, verb & adverb, acting is a noun, verb & adjective, active is a noun & adjective, actuation, actuator, activation, activity, acter, actor & actress are nouns, actuate, activating, acted & activate are verbs, acting is a noun, verb & adjective, activated is a verb & adjective, actuatable & actless are adjectives and actively is an adverb; the noun plural is acts.

“An act of God”: Last moments of the Hindenburg (Luftschiff Zeppelin #129; Registration: D-LZ 129), Manchester Township, New Jersey, United States, 6 May, 1937.  The German dirigibles were hydrogen-filled because the US declined to supply helium to the Nazi regime (1933-1945).  A chemically inert noble gas, helium is neither combustible nor flammable.

The theatrical (part of a play (from the 1510s)) and the early fifteenth century legislative senses of the word existed also in Latin although the idea of "one of a series of performances in a variety show" seems not to have been in use until the 1890s although such forms of entertainment were by then long-established.  The (usually disparaging) use to suggest a "display of exaggerated behavior" is from 1928, extended from the theatrical sense.  The "act of God” (a natural force or event uncontrollable by man) was first recorded in 1726 as a legal term to refer to matters in which plaintiffs could not sue for compensation or relief because the consequent losses could not by anyone have been “…guarded against by the ordinary exertions of human skill and prudence so as to prevent its effect.”  Even Adolf Hitler (who wasn't fond of of churches and priests (the Roman Catholic ones he called "black crows") found it often convenient to invoke the name of the Almighty) found the concept helpful, describing the destruction of the Hindenburg dirigible in 1937 as “an act of God”.  The word had been in the language of law for a while, an act in the 1590s understood as something "in the process" and legal scholars link this with the late sixteenth century use of act as a euphemism for "sexual intercourse”.

The verb was a mid fifteenth century development from the noun and most of the modern senses in English probably are from the noun.  In the mid 1400s, it began with the sense of "to act upon or adjudicate in legal matters” before from circa 1600 coming to be used in the familiar general meaning of "to do, perform, transact", extended to things in the sense of "do something, exert energy or force”, by 1751, a use which would become increasingly common in physics and cosmology.  In theatrical performances, from the 1590s it meant to "perform as an actor" (intransitive) and by the 1610s "represent by performance on the stage" (transitive). The meaning "perform specific duties or functions," often on a temporary basis, had come into use by 1804 and was given a new legitimacy when the Duke of Wellington (1769–1852; UK prime-minister 1828-1830) was described as “acting prime-minister” between November-December 1834 while awaiting the return from Italy of the king’s appointee.  One verb form which in general use didn’t survive was "co-act" (to act together in a performance), noted from circa 1600, it begat co-action; co-active; co-actor etc although co-act (and variations) is still sometimes used in scientific papers.

Hitler addressing the Reichstag (sitting in the Kroll Opera House after the Reichstag building was torched) on the matter of the Enabling Act, Berlin, 23 March, 1933.  Göring (who once claimed (latter denied) to have to have arranged the arson) is presiding as President of the Reichstag (1932-1945).

In legislation, the part played by the “act” differs between systems but, as a general principle, the convention used in Westminster System parliaments in illustrative of the process: A “bill” for an “act [of parliament]” is introduced to the relevant chamber or parliament and if “passed” according to due constitutional process, the act becomes “law”.  One of history’s more notorious acts was the German Enabling Act of 1933 (Gesetz zur Behebung der Not von Volk und Reich (literally “Law to Remedy the Distress of People and Reich”), the legislative device from which flowed the erosion of checks and balances in the Weimar-era (1918-1933) constitution (that, remarkably, was never repealed and, in the narrow legal sense, endured until the dissolution of the Nazi state in 1945), culminating in Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) in 1943 gaining absolute, personal, dictatorial power.  Enabling acts (Ermächtigungsgesetz (in German, literally “empowering law”)) exist in many systems usually are merely procedural, devices by which a legislature delegates some power(s) to an entity (or individual) but what was notable about the Ermächtigungsgesetz of 23 March, 1933 was it provided the legal legitimacy for the Nazi’s subsequent transformation of Germany into a totalitarian state; it became, in effect, an absolute monarchy (albeit it a chaotic one, something not fully appreciated until well after the end of hostilities in 1945).  Because, structurally, the act was an amendment to the Weimar constitution, a vote by a “super-majority” (essentially two-thirds of members of the Reichstag (the German parliament)) was required and the Nazis at that point “didn’t have the numbers”.  However, to people like Hitler and Hermann Göring (1893–1946; leading Nazi 1922-1945, Hitler's designated successor & Reichsmarschall 1940-1945), that was little more than a tiresome irritant and through the methods that had until then served them well (lies, threats, coercion, violence & bribery), duly the Reichstag passed the act.

To “act on” in the sense of "to exert influence upon" entered general use in the 1810s, the adoption encouraged by the increasing appearance of the phrase in scientific literature.  To “act up” came by 1900 mean "be unruly" (in reference to a horse in the same way bolter (ie “to bolt” in the sense of “gallop off without warning”)) was used, a reversal of the earlier meaning "acting in accordance with a duty, expectation, or belief” which dates from 1645.  To “act out” (behave anti-socially) was part of the jargon of psychiatry noted first in 1974; it meant "expressing one's unconscious impulses or desires", following “acting out” (abnormal behavior caused by unconscious influences) from 1945.  The idiomatic forms are legion.  “To get into the act” (participate) dates from 1947 and “to get (one's) act together” (organize one's chaotic life) is said not to have been used until the mid-1970s which seems surprising but more than one source records this.  The idea of the “one-act” was borrowed from the literal “one act play” (a performance consisting of a single act), noted since 1888, the figurative use suggesting either brevity or inadequacy depending on context.  The verb overact (to go too far in action) faded from use except in its original sense from the theatre where it described an actor “playing a part with too much emphasis; an extravagant and unnatural manner”.  The theatrical slang encapsulating this was “chewing the scenery", which sounds modern but dates from the 1630s.  To “act one’s age” is to behave in a manner befitting the maturity one is presumed to have attained at a certain stage in life.  An “act of faith” is to embark on a course of action on either (1) a basis of trust rather than any guarantee or (2) as a demonstration one's religious faith.

Acts & Scenes

William Shakespeare agitprop.

The act is a major division in many performance pieces such as plays, film, opera etc and frequently (though not of necessity) consists of a number of scenes, the concept dating from the theatre of antiquity.  Traditionally, the division of a work into acts and scenes was undertaken by the author but such delineations, especially of older material, can be made by critics or those applying academic analysis and where the notion of authorship can become blurred (such as a film director interpreting a text), there can be variations from the original, something sometimes controversial.  The application of the concept (and the labels) of acts and scenes is widely applied to many forms of entertainment, sometimes to provide a structural framework and sometimes, one suspects, to lend a not always deserved gravitas.  In the production of more recent material, commercial imperatives can also dictate the divisions, the single intermission a common occurrence which renders a performance inherently a two-stage event in some sense.

The five-act structure.

The number of acts in a piece need not bear any relationship to its length although this certainly is the general tendency, a one act play usually a deliberately short work.  Although the five act structure had until the early nineteenth century been most frequently used by playwrights, many analysts suggest this was a kind of formalism, a deferential (and perhaps devotional) nod to William Shakespeare (circa 1564–1616) who usually adhered to the five act model in his plays.  The bard had his reasons and there is a discernible rhythm as his five acts evolve but none the less, even in the most intricate of his plays, it’s possible convincingly to map onto them the now conventional three act structure.

The three act structure.

The three-act structure can simply and unexceptionally be understood as the beginning, middle and end.  It's in act one the nature of the conflict is established with the identities of protagonist and antagonist are revealed (or in the case of the latter, at least alluded to.  During the second act, difficulties will arise, these the dramatic device used to create the insurmountable obstacle(s) likely to defeat the protagonist.  In the third act, there will be a climax (and perhaps an anti-climax or two), the point at which all seems finally lost for the protagonist.  However, despite it all, the protagonist prevails and, even if they die, the circumstances will be such a resolution attained is sufficient to satisfy the moral point being made.

F. Scott Fitzgerald with wife Zelda (Zelda Sayre, 1900-1948) in then fashionable fur.

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s (1896–1940) oft-quoted phrase “there are no second acts in American lives” appears as a fragment in his posthumously published, unfinished novel The Last Tycoon (1941) but he first published it in the early 1930s in the essay My Lost City, a kind of love letter to New York.  The quote is frequently misunderstood as an observation that for those Americans who suffer disgrace or destitution, there is no redemption, no coming back.  Comebacks in the US are of course frequent and some in politics have been remarkable.  What Richard Nixon (1913-1994; VPOTUS 1953-1961 and POTUS 1969-1974) achieved in winning the presidency in 1968 was extraordinary and in matching that achievement in 2024, Donald Trump (b 1946; POTUS 2017-2021 and since 2025) managed what must in 2021 have seemed impossible.  In the orthodoxy of conventional theatre, the final act is the third or fifth depending on the work's structure and this is followed also in idiomatic use.  Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & Prime-Minister of Italy 1922-1943) in 1938, gloomily contemplating the impending German annexation of neighboring Austria, told his foreign minister (Count Galeazzo Ciano (1903–1944; Italian foreign minister 1936-1943 (and son-in-law of the Duce who ordered his execution)): “We find ourselves in the interval between the fourth and fifth acts of the Austrian Affair.”      

Second (third, fourth etc) act specialist: Lindsay Lohan mug-shots 2007-2011.

However, from politics to pop culture, there are many examples of temporarily disreputable Americans resurrecting their public lives from all but the most ignominious opprobrium.  Fitzgerald was a professional writer and his observation was an allusion to the structure used by playwrights in traditional three-act theatre: (1) problem, (2) complication & (3) solution.  He thought the nature of the American mind was to prefer to skip the second act, going straight from problem to resolution.  His point was well-made and it’s one of the themes of the narrative which underlies the discussions (which became arguments and sometimes squabbles) of military and political strategy between the high commands in Washington and London during World War II (1939-1945).  As early as 1942 the preferred strategy of General George Marshall (1880–1959; US Army chief of staff 1939-1945) was a triphibious invasion of France along the English Chanel coast as a staging post for a "march on Berlin", the operation to be staged either that year or the next.  Like most of the senior ranks of the US military, he had little interest in the "secondary theatre" campaigns in Africa and the Mediterranean that so fascinated London; he wanted not to "nibble at the edges" but to go straight to the final act.  Historians on both sides of the Atlantic have concluded to postpone the invasion to 1944 was strategically correct.