Tonight will be more than a bittersweet closing night for our production of Driving Miss Daisy. This has been a very successful run, of a wonderful show, performed brilliantly by a wonderful cast. Audiences have been moved very much by the show and those performances in our wonderfully intimate performance venue in Front Royal at the Royal Phoenix. We will certainly miss this show.
But we'll also miss this performance venue. When we moved into the Royal Phoenix, it was as a temporary move while we did some major construction and renovation at our home in Middletown, Virginia. That work is just about complete and we are preparing to reopen on July 12. That will be exciting. But during this year, many of us hoped that we could somehow find a way to maintain both performance venues and thus hopefully take some very necessary steps to help insure a better future for Wayside Theatre.
Alas, that is not to be. We had sought additional funding to maintain both. It would have required an expansion of staff to do so. But that funding was not forthcoming. So, as we strike the stage after the final performance of Daisy tonight, we will also begin striking a theatre as well.
I have to say my heart is very full of a lot of emotions about this, as are the hearts and souls of the other artists at Wayside Theatre. This year has been traumatic, as we knew it would be, so there were no surprises there. What did surprise us though is how much some in our community tie the theatre to a building, its location, and its appurtenances.
When we began performances in Front Royal there were (and still are) so many who wouldn't come there to see a show because it wasn't the theatre in Middletown. Now that we are preparing to leave Front Royal, (that news has only been out for few weeks) I'm hearing that folks who liked the theatre there won't come to Middletown. What's that old line? You can't please everybody?
What's sad, troubling, and at times almost debilitating for me, is that while the physical is certainly important to the theatre going experience, and both spaces have their charms (they also each have more than their share of quirks and problems), what makes it theatre, what makes it breathe, what makes it live, are the artists. In a world where figures, real estate, and stuff mean more than the ephemeral ecstasy of a brilliant moment of truth living and breathing on stage, or of a child experiencing the magic of Shakespeare for the first time, or an audience being swept away in unison by a musical moment that transcends the real world, it is hard to imagine anything beyond just how disposable art really is to so many. I am experiencing this at the moment as a very personal and also a professional failure on my part, for not being able to make that case clearer and with a clear enough definition that would perhaps have made a difference.
So, tonight we when take the final bow, a play will end its run, a theatre will end its life, and the artists who made both live for a brief time in the minds of its audiences will move on to their next challenges.
Put out the light, and then put out the light.
Othello, Act 5 Scene 2
Recent Comments