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As a thirteen-year-old seventh-grader in Germany, I had my
first experience of live theater when a USO troupe brought Guys and Dolls to our military community. I was spellbound. The
sets! The costumes! The lights! The music! Real live people performing right in
front of our eyes. It was pure magic. And so it has been for the past half
century.
The immediacy of live theater—or any live
performance—produces, at its best, a miraculous humanity, a connection between
viewer and performer that cannot be replicated with images on screens. Whether
it’s comic, tragic, or something else scarcely matters. That it’s real people
beneath the greasepaint is what counts. And the first time is enough to hook a
person for life. At least it was in my case.
A few years ago we took my very skeptical fourteen-year-old
godson and his family to the Broadway production of Billy Elliot. My godson, who had protested going, turned to me
after the first dance number, eyes full of stars, and whispered, “This is great!”
Yes! Exactly! Just yesterday, my partner took two of the grandchildren, ages
eight and six, to a local production of Shrek,
the Musical. They are likely to remember the experience for a lifetime.
Over the years I’ve seen a great deal of theater and dabbled
at being more than a viewer. In high school I designed the set for our
production of My Fair Lady, in which
Eliza was played by future Oscar-winner Dianne Wiest; she was a senior, I was a
sophomore. A decade ago I flew to Wisconsin to watch a high school performance
of my own play, Writer’s Catch, that
was staged by the school where I’d taught a decade before that. But I’ve always
been thrilled simply to be in the audience.
The key factor has not necessarily been who was on stage. I
remember vividly seeing Hal Holbrook as Mark Twain, James Earl Jones in a New
York production of On Golden Pond, Peter
O’Toole in a London production of Man and
Superman, Yul Brynner in The King and
I, and Carol Channing in Hello Dolly.
(Actually I first saw Hello Dolly when
Dorothy Lamour played Dolly Levi in a touring version that played Emporia,
Kansas, during my undergrad years.) But I have been equally thrilled by local
and university productions.
All the world may well be a stage, as Shakespeare opined,
but when the house lights go down and the play begins something special
happens. We are transported from the ordinary to the extraordinary by that
magical, very human connection between the individuals on stage and the
individuals in the audience. Curtain up! And I fall in love all over again.
