The sharp contrast in perspective between the young performers and those behind the scenes—the professors and technicians who remember 9/11 well—has kidnapped my attention.
To live in a place where defunding has already happened—to not have a marching band to turn to when you can’t imagine yourself possibly going to one more soccer practice—is not only a less beautiful position, it’s a dangerous one.
Much like the characters struggling to piece together their identities in In The Heights, and much like—I suspect—Miranda himself at the time of writing this story, I have never felt more pride in my hometown than now, in my young adulthood.
When purity culture devotees suggest that the author must spoon-feed the moral status of every single character to the audience, they undermine both the intelligence of the viewers as well as the skill of the author.
It wasn’t until I started taking a course in puppetry for my college’s January term, where I began learning about more esoteric methods and philosophies of puppetry, that I was able to fully appreciate the amount of puppetry that happened nightly in Ferguson’s studio.
So, what’s it like being a theatre fan far away from most theatre? We take it where we can get it—whether it be at school, at church, or in our community theatre.