Holding Up a Mirror

I am an actress and director. I am also a theatre reviewer. I have not been able to earn as a reviewer since mid-March. My many wonderful artist-friends have not been able to earn performing or directing or designing since mid-March. We miss sharing our work with audiences. We miss being together in the "room where it happens."

Theatre is a shared experience--the audience is as crucial a part of that experience as the performers and technical aspects. That is why the "live" broadcasts of musicals on TV fall flat for many of us--that give and take between artists and viewers that happens during a stage production is missing.

During the rehearsal phase, as a director, I am an audience of one. I react to what the actors are doing either positively or otherwise. I might make subtle shifts in the approach in order to mold the piece into a cohesive whole, to tell the story as clearly and as honestly as we can. As a performer, I rely on the director to help me and my fellow actors find those kernels of truth, those normal reactions, that will create a realistic and layered story for the audience to enjoy.

When I'm teaching an acting class, I'm also an audience of sorts. I'm there to again act as a guide so actors can explore ways to create characters with depth. I try to show them, in a fun way, all the many options available to a character within the given circumstances of a piece. As I've grown as an artist, I have found that I enjoy this exploration as much--if not more--than the performing.

But, there is something so special about being part of something that takes people out of their own lives for a couple of hours. Something that makes them laugh. Or cry. Something that makes them think, or look at an issue in a new way. It's a very heady thing to realize that people have chosen my production to be their entertainment for that evening. That was brought home to me during the first time I appeared in a play that was part of Philly's annual Fringe Fest. Between our first and second weekends, 9/11 happened and the last thing any of us felt like doing was being funny. But the owner of the theatre came backstage and gave us a wonderful pep talk. It was he who used the concept of people choosing us that night as an escape from the horrors of the lives lost and be entertained for an hour or two.

I never forgot that moment and from then on have been very aware of my responsibility to an audience. I and all of my artist friends want that responsibility back. We dearly miss being with the audience. We crave sharing the words of great playwrights, new and old, again. We miss hearing your reactions to what's happening onstage. We miss that feeling of knowing your with us, that you're feeling the emotions we do.

Theatre has survived shutdowns before. During the Reformation/Cromwell era in England. During the Plague. During prior pandemics. We've struggled artistically and financially, but we managed to come back. Shakesppeare wrote KING LEAR during the Plague. It'll be rocky--and there will be challenges to keep performers and audience safe, but we'll be back. In the meantime, artists all over the world are offering their work virtually online. It's the music and the comedy, the poetry and the art that is getting us through this time of social distancing.

Until we can all be together again in that room, we'll be keeping the ghostlights on in theatres around the globe.