BWW Blog: Opening Nights, 'Dear Friends', and Other Necessary Evils

We opened A Christmas Carol last night.

There are things that are to be gotten to and things to be gotten through. I have found that opening nights tend to be in the latter category. On opening night, it seems that the show can run the cast; after that first performance, the cast begins to run the show. Opening nights have the pressure of the big-bang-now-we're here.

What's interesting is that Christmas Carol doesn't fall into this category (or perhaps fully into this category). Yes, there are the opening trappings of family, friends, well-wishers ("other wishers"-more on that later), press, party, etc. But what separates this is the distance from Christmas. Christmas Carol, like a roller coaster, begins with that upward build to Thanksgiving weekend when the holiday season officially begins.

In addition, for many in the cast, the production is not a new experience. Even with the changes we make each year, they are so familiar with the show, it's as if they just taken a brief hiatus and then returned to performance (I will explore the topic of returning actors in a future blog). It creates a wonderful sense of ownership and command.

The real focus of today's blog is those "other wishes" whom I will label as "Dear Friends." These are the ones who just have to tell you what doesn't work. "I know you'd want to know ..." (Not really.) "You know the scene when you ..." (Yes, I know it. I was up there doing it.) "Well, it doesn't work. I know it's not your fault but Peter isn't giving you much to work with. You know what I think would help you ..." (No. But you're going to tell me.)

Often, to let you know that they didn't like it without actually coming out and saying so, "Dear Friends" will fixate on one detail. "I really liked that handkerchief. That handkerchief was great. That was a great handkerchief. I can't remember last time I went to a show where someone had a handkerchief like that. I mean, really-that was some handkerchief." Unless it's Othello, you're pretty much out of luck.

As a rule, even if I haven't liked the show, I make it a point to find multiple positives. 95% of the time there is something worth praising-there are honest moments, interesting choices, genuinely committed actions. Even if the talent is "less than," the energy can compensate.

The fact is, and most importantly, the show is open and these people, for better or worse, good or bad (come rain or come shine) have to run it. They're not going anywhere. They will have to come in each night, put on their make-up and costumes, and get up in front of an audience. The last thing anyone needs is your voice saying: "You know, Sandy really is miscast; I don't know what she's doing up there." Or "Did you know you do that funny thing with your hands?" (I was guilty of saying that to someone twenty-two years ago; it's haunted me ever since.)

When someone asks you what you really thought of the production-"No, I want your honest opinion"-what they're saying is "Tell me you loved it unconditionally." A performance is a child that this person has birthed. Don't say that you don't like its nose.

I have a rule-if someone pushes and wants to know if I will tell them what I truly thought of the show, I say that I will talk to them about in six months when there is some distance. Usually, by then, they've forgotten. (Same goes for auditions.)

If you're going to share your honest insight, do everyone a favor: Please stay home.

But, if you can come with an open mind, come to be entertained, to be engaged, to sit in an audience as part of the communal experience of Live Theatre, the doors are always open.

Photo: Theatre Three presents A CHRISTMAS CAROL Douglas J Quattrock & Jeffrey Sanzel