Quarantine Diaries, Part 1
Everyone who loves the theater, including actors, producers and audience members, was caught flat-footed this spring when — over the course of just a few days — all live performances were closed down, from Broadway to your local community theater. In an attempt to stop the spread of COVID-19, plays that were about to open were shut down. National tours were halted in their tracks. A few events were rescheduled, but most were cancelled. Right now every single stage in the country is dark. It is safe to say that nothing like this has happened in a century.
In all of the emails, analyses, and articles written during this unprecedented time of global pandemic, isolation, distancing, and social unrest, there are many pieces that have grabbed my attention. Some have given me pause. Some have taught me the new rules for this uncharted period. There is only one that has struck me as profound.
We were together. I forget the rest.
The post card with this message has been taped to my refrigerator since the day it arrived in the mail, several weeks ago. A note of concern, reminiscence, and good wishes, it was sent from Artistic Director Jill Anna Ponasik on behalf of the gifted artists at Milwaukee Opera Theatre.
This sums up my feelings more appropriately every day, as someone whose life and livelihood are interwoven with live performing arts events. It confirms what we all suspected before – there’s no video or zoom call or chat that can replace live theater. It is a shared event, unique in every iteration, a collaboration among artists and audiences that results in hearts and minds that are agitated, illuminated, moved, opened and changed.
It also emphasizes our need for community in the best and worst of times. “Together” is a comfort. “Together” is where we share ideas, laughter, food, and art – all the strands that many of us have been grasping for to help hold the present together in the face of a relentlessly uncertain future. “Together” is where words resonate and anger at injustice transforms into something more powerful.
It also reminds me how much I have taken theater – and those individuals and organizations that create it – for granted. It puts my list of pet peeves about plays and audiences in a deservedly petty light. It accurately describes the void I feel now. My calendar is empty. My to-do list of upcoming articles and reviews is blank. The rhythm and rituals of “before” have been swept aside for a silent pause.
Moments before the curtains came down, many artists — being creative, industrious, “the show must go on” sorts — struggled to repurpose live performances, transforming them into online properties that could be seen from the comforts and safety of audiences’ own homes.
While some major productions did not have time or resources to make that pivot (Children’s Theater of Madison’s production of “Peter Pan” and Forward Theater’s production of “The Amateurs” closed during tech rehearsals, just as Overture closed its doors) many companies moved in with video equipment and tried to make the best of a terrible situation. They hurriedly recorded new productions and dug in the vaults for archival tapes from the past. They have posted podcasts and interviewed every member of their staff, down to the assistant wig maker and follow spot op. This is not what we need right now. Pale imitations and philosophical discussions only remind us of what is missing.
Fortunately, there are a few theatrical pieces online that are still worth viewing – providing a glimpse of the “before times” like a postcard from a lovely vacation taken years ago. I will post mini-reviews of the online theater I recommend in the coming weeks, and I apologize in advance if the pieces are no longer available. My guess is this material will be re-posted before the lights come up on Broadway again.