On Friday, June 11th, 2010, I sat in the audience at Triad Stage as theatre history was written. Preston Lane's new Appalachian Saga Providence Gap premiered and brought the teary-eyed audience to their feet. It was a truly breath-taking experience and I meant every ounce of my standing ovation (I could write more on superfluous standing O's, but not here). The music by Laurelyn Dossett, the designs by Alexander Dodge, Kelsey Hunt, and John Wolf, and of course the performances by so many talented individuals made for a wonderful night in the theatre.
I believe that my awe of the show was due, in (very small) part, to my lack of involvement. Sure, I had heard bits of gossip from various people involved, as I am part of the company of Theatre 232, the partnership between UNCG and Triad during the summer. But I didn't help stitch, build, hang, paint, or herd any part of the show. Thus, when I sat in the front row (hooray!) I was wholly transported by the story and the magic and did not worry if the lines were going to be right or the set would function correctly, or any number of horrors that go through my mind when I watch a show I have poured some ounce of myself into.
I miss being transported like that.
A friend of mine started a project this year to see one play a week. She is an up-and-coming director, heading up Chicago's new Prologue Theatre so her options are many. In a smaller theatre community like Greensboro, the disconnect from productions is more difficult. True, I haven't actually ever worked on a show at Triad, but being surrounded by people who are, means that often times I hear too much of the drama and gossip and I am disheartened to make the effort to sit in the audience knowing all that I know. (That, and being in graduate school doesn't afford me the luxury of time or money to patron the arts the way I want.)
This is a part of the reason that moving to a larger city with a greater professional theatre community appeals to me. I look forward to being able to walk into a theatre and know no one. When I went to see Faust at The San Francisco Opera last weekend, I loved that I had no clue what to expect when the curtain rose. I had no connections to the production, the building, or the people in the audience (save my date) and I appreciated that anonymity so that I could truly enjoy the show for what it was (or, in the case of Faust, being marginally disappointed and slightly bored by the end, but hey, such is life).
I have, for the last ten years, been searching for (and occasionally finding) the white-hot passion I once felt for theatre that drove me to throw caution to the wind and choose this as a profession. When I get to see great theatre that I haven't touched, the elusive passion re-emerges and I all I can think is, I want to do that. And after watching Providence Gap, my head is swirling with ideas about my upcoming year at UNCG and where I am going afterwards. I hope that I am able to hold on to this earnest feeling of hope and love for theatre. I also hope that, if you can, you go see Providence Gap, or another show that you have been thinking about. It just might surprise you.
It's definitely novel to have less connection to a show, although I've found that even in a relatively large community like Chicago, I usually have heard some chatter about the production process (usually via social networking), or know someone involved. Those occasions where I have no connection are rare, but invigorating. "Ah," I think to myself, "This is what a REAL audience member must feel like!" Remembering that feeling helps me reconsider how I direct shows and how to engage with audiences...
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