It's the day of the show, y'all!
Dear Devoted Readers-
Good morning from the cusp of we know not what. Tonight is our official opening night and it has been a fabulous ride so far. I know I keep saying how great everything is and how fantastic everyone has been and I must sound like some low-rent lesbo version of Tom Cruise, but trust me on this one folks, the people working on this show and the atmosphere of talent, professionalism and camaraderie is unsurpassed in my experience. As a collaborative ensemble, The Brothers always strive for some kind of synchronicity in order to get our groove on together and inhabit slightly different versions of the same world we are creating. But this devotion to the cult of theatre, our brand of theatre, does not always extend beyond the inner circle of Brotherly wagons. So it is with great pleasure that I realize this morning as I write that we have succeeded in apparently brainwashing the entire staff, production and design crews at NYTW into joining us in our depraved ways. Like the armed forces, theatre is not just a job, it's a career and with the Brothers, it's a lifestyle.
At 79 East 4th Street, we are all Brothers.
So tonight, we do once again what we have all worked so hard to do. We show up at a certain place and a certain time. We wear certain clothes and some of us paint our faces. We check our equipment, look over our cues. We warm up our bodies and minds and voices to prepare ourselves in the ways we need to do our jobs. Then around 7:00, the lights go down and the music plays and we all get on the same ride together and hope that the audience is willing to come along with us.
It's a life of repetition and the trick is to make it seem like it's the first time every time. To make something we have done already new again each night. To make cold words on a page and darkness and space alive and vibrant with our bodies and energies and spirits. It's like church or temple or shul or mosque. At 7:00, we are in a room together with others, thinking individual versions of the same ideas, repeating these rituals that have been repeated by our predecessors.
Don't mean to be going all oogly-boogly on you, folks. But it is for deep and personal reasons that we do this slightly insane thing every night. It sustains us in ways that other more practical things cannot. It is deeply human and flawed and perfect all at once. And we cannot do it alone. Theatre asks of us to commune with our fellows, to experience things together, in real time with real people who breathe the same air and get irritated by same the errant cell phone ringing at the wrong moment. It reminds us we are alive, doesn't it?
Hoping so for tonight.
Please do come see us, won't you friends? Or at least keep us in your thoughts as the comedy and tragedy masks beckon us onto the boards or backstage or in the booth or in the box office. Join us in our little world.
Cross your fingers.