Theatre

There was a time when going to the theatre used to mean something to me.  It was inspiring and uplifting…I felt changed after being there.  All the creativity and work to bring a story to life made me feel alive as well.  I remember watching Hedwig and the Angry Inch (with Anthony Rapp) and I was in such awe.  I was right there with him the entire way lifting up my hands during Midnight Radio. When I saw Orpheus Descending with Helen Mirren and Stuart Townsend (3 times!), I knew I was in the presence of mastery.  It also made me see Tennessee Williams in a different way.  There are so many other theatrical performances that have enriched my life by providing me with much more substance than I had when I first arrived.  That being said, it’s been a while since I last felt this way.  I kind of turned away from it all.  In fact, I was dreading going to see The Crucible earlier this week for fear of it being a waste of time.  In my mind I was prepared for a drab stage with pale figures drawing out their lines to milk every single dramatic effect that the play called for.  Yes, shame on me.  Fortunately the show was exactly what theatre is supposed to be: transformative.  Sure there were some kinks in the works being opening night and all but by the middle of the first act I was hooked; I stopped expecting something and just experienced what was laid before me.  When the events unraveled in the final act I was on the edge of my seat, stomach in knots and goose bumps all over.  What an unfortunate mess – Salem, not the show.  And what a political statement to make: provocative for sure and isn’t that what theatre is for?  I got so much out of the show that I felt guilty for having arrived with such bleak expectations.  Theatre, I apologize for underestimating you.  And thank you to the cast and crew of The Crucible for bringing me back like a prodigal daughter.  

If you are in the area, go see the show and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.