This past weekend, I had the immense pleasure of visiting the Walter Kerr Theatre with a high school theatre company to see “Hadestown.” Going in, I had seen bits of the promo video, I had heard a few of the songs, and I knew the premise of the plot- Orpheus, and Eurydice set in a bluesy coal mining town kind of style. I knew, basically, what the production looked like, and I knew what it sounded like.

What I did not know, is what it would feel like.

The idea of "theatre" is a fascinating concept. People actually choose to bare their souls on stage, allowing themselves and their audiences a chance to experience life through a different lens. They put their bodies and mental health into a state of constant exhaustion while learning lines, perfecting choreography, and mastering songs. We always find ourselves as theatre-lovers romanticizing over the lights of Broadway and the stars we see perform on the Tony Awards.

But what about the "unsung hero" of theatre--community theatre?

Playwright, Musician, Actor.

Dave Malloy’s effect on the musical theatre scene has already rooted itself in a place of absurdity and incredible thought. Through his ability to tell a story in both text and score, the audience can see a compliment and counter of the characters' emotions on stage. The subtext is brilliantly woven into the smallest of decisions, and each character seems to have reflective timbre, tone, and even instrumentation that supports what each person truly needs. Each one of his works finds a new way to enthrall the entire theatre, and call attention to the smallest of storylines, secrets, and tales.

One of the most amazing things about theatre is that it is something that can be enjoyed by a wide variety of people. There is a play or musical out there for everyone. Even more amazing than that is the impact that theatre has on people’s lives. My experience in working for a theatre company for adults with learning disabilities has shown me just how important theatre is in improving the quality of their lives.

“Why do you act?” This question was posed to me one day in a peer discussion on my work and passion for theatre. Of course this is not as simple a question to answer as it is to ask. This is because the question posed is one with a million complicated answers.

In a world seeking connection, fans of Broadway seem to be able to find it even when they will never be able to be in the room where the magic happens. It is fascinating in a time when media’s success is measured by how many people it can reach, that the Broadway industry still thrives even as it’s isolated from so many of its fans, geographically speaking. A pinnacle example of this is the hit almost-Broadway show Be More Chill, whose unexpected success lies solely on the backs of the fans that revived it after a swift death off-off-Broadway.

Today, Jessica Vosk will take her final bow as Elphaba in Broadway’s Wicked. Ending one of the great runs this character has seen since its opening in 2003.

I want you to imagine something. Imagine huge crowds of people filing into a special venue to witness a display by professionals working at the highest tiers of their field. The tickets were expensive, the seats aren’t quite comfortable, the drink prices are outrageous. Specialized, high-powered lights illuminate the playing area and loud music fills the air. The professionals emerge, dressed in specialized clothing and equipment, and begin their hours-long display. The action is intense, sometimes exciting, sometimes heartbreaking, and about halfway through, there is a break for everyone to recover and chat. When it’s all over, the crowd will cheer for a job well done and grumble if their expectations weren’t met, but they’ll probably go to a similar event in the future. Those same fans will gather around their televisions once a year in a celebration of the best of the best, usually with friends, food and drinks at the ready. 

Now, here’s my question: did you picture a Broadway show, or a sporting event?

It was already an emotional time. 

Our theater, the auditorium that had housed all of the theater our district had to offer for 55 years, was slated for demolition. Yes, it was just a building, but to those of us who found our home on the stage, it was a little bit more.

So we planned an event to pay homage to the facility. We dressed in formal attire and walked a pseudo-red carpet. We invited alumni and former teachers. We shared pictures, and songs, and memories.

Then, it happened. My students starting leaving in the middle of the show. First a few, then more, then most. 

What in the world was happening? On one hand I was thinking “This better be an emergency!’ and on the other praying it was not.

A good story has an introduction, a buildup of tension, an unforeseen climax, and a resolution. An impactful story includes a lesson to be learned so that the audience can take away more than just a satisfied hunger for some laughs and jaunty tunes. The fantastic stories—Tony-worthy shows—speak to the audience, so they not only walk away with a nice break from stress and responsibilities but are indoctrinated with a fresh perspective on life. 

If Dear Evan Hansen were written in the Murphys’ perspective, it would be next to normal. Having directed both musicals on Broadway, that feeling may have crossed Michael Greif’s mind countless times during his current position at the DEH stage. Both shows tackle the issues of mental illness and how it affects the environment surrounding the person suffering. If you take out the music and instruments for a moment and analyze what you’ve got left, they are words you hear every day; words which deal with severe depression, anxiety, manic bipolar, post-traumatic stress, and even schizophrenia. 

The Stage Door. To some, it means a chance to meet their favorite performers of theatre. To others, it means an opportunity to thank them for a beautiful show! And it’s a nice gesture to the public of having one’s playbill signed but the actors they saw. All in all, it’s a wonderful experience that one has of their Broadway experience.