Tales From the Front: Last Vestiges of Live Theatre

Even in non pandemic times, shelter in place, wash your hand 20x a day-times, and leave your groceries outside for three days, live theatre, for those that live it, is not an easy sell.
As malleable as it is an artform, those that live in it, use it and those that view it, are several learning-styles apart. And as this new world order sets it, one where gatherings of more than a few might be considered too dangerous for years to come, or proximity of less than 6 feet to someone you don't know or don’t live with or don’t know their body temperature or when the only mask one wears is not a Kabuki mask, but an N95, it is hard to not think that the theatre in all its liveness and touch and immediacy might have to be put on hold. Tabled. Boxed Up. Put on the shelf with other artifacts of liveness: music festivals, parades, art fairs, rodeos, marathons sporting events and pub crawls.

I hope not. I wish on all the stars, and all the pennies I find, and of course disinfect ( according to John Hopkins it takes 4 hours for the COVID molecules on copper to disintegrate - ‘are pennies even copper anymore?’) that theatre in all its ephemeralness, lives.

In case it (theatre) is put on hiatus or temporarily has to transform its aesthetic into a zoom-like singular, closeup face only form, wanted to capture a couple final days of a life in theatre, before the curtain fell, or rather after I received the directive from my job and governor of a state of emergency and to stock up (e.g. catnip, cat grass, hummus) and head home.

Vestige #1 -A college improvisation class. Ypsilanti, MI (Eastern Michigan University)
Tuesday, March 10th we were 9 weeks in. The class met once a week, in the evening for three hours. The students enrolled are not necessarily theatre majors but instead reflect a broad range of identities, ideas and interests. The essence of this improvisation class is simply the practice of being present, of living or being more fully in a moment in order to move action/life forward, versus sideways or backwards.

And, thus in many ways, this time, these days, are made for the improviser, or really, for an improvisation mindset. A mindset that asks us to:
Surrender to the loss of control (you exercise more control this way)
adapt to the unexpected.
Give and take (equally, really)
Accept what is offered
Make the strange familiar and the familiar strange
and to not get too attached to an outcome.

In this class, our unknowingly last in-person class, we were practicing the improvisation rule ‘be a passenger’ . (Side-Bar: Like many of these improvisation rules, or rules for living more fully in a moment, I have acquired them over years. Some are from the very first improvisation class in high school (1985? 1986) via Second City, and some are from practitioners such Keith Johnstone, Michael Rohd or simply inspired by a Liz Lerman exercise, and some are just a result of being in the world/work)

So, the class. And here is the vestige to capture, laminate.

Almost three hours in we are building to activities that are more presentational, allow for more choice and thus for some, more risk. This final activity, which I call A/B/C flow is in many ways your standard sketch improv activity.

Two people (A & B) start a scene based upon a couple given variables; circumstance, relationship and as the scene progresses, another person(C) enters into the scene, inspired by a movement, a phrase (it’s open) and changes it, changes its current reality into something else. Once the person enters and changes the reality, person A has to find a legitimate/(relevant to the scene) reason to leave this scene, this reality and the whole flow starts again.

What proved challenging for several individuals was changing the reality and finding a relevant reason to leave. So, what is being practiced here? Adaptation? For sure. Acceptance of whatever is offered? Letting go of where you were? Absolutely. To make these moments work, everyone in these realities has to be a passenger, and not a passive passenger, a passenger who not just adapts, but accepts whatever path is put forth. I’m grateful that our last live time together, however fortuitous, had us practicing entrances and exits, and the moments in between in all their unpredictability and possibility.


Vestige #2 -Vital: A Fugue on Aging, an ethnographic theatre piece, Buffalo, NY -Faith Leaders Convening, Thursday, March 12th

This piece of theatre, with an ensemble of four actors, has been performed many times for many communities and in several different towns/cities. It was a commissioned project, based on a qualitative study of Vulnerable Seniors and Caregivers in Washtenaw County, Michigan by Abbie Lawrence-Jacobson. The study lays out, through the voices of actual people, the complexity of caregiving particularly for those who have less resources or economic mobility but not exclusively. Most notably it reveals many often unspoken truths and realities on the burdens, the bravery and the heartache of caregivers and their drive to care and give to those they love.

The performance is intended to reflect the challenges of caregiving for older adults in that it is chaotic and disruptive, and in other moments, solitary It is also poly-vocal like a fugue (many voices contributing to a whole), presentational, (the focus is out in the audience and not towards each other). There are voices of those who care give for those whose memories have faded, those who care at the expense of their own health, those who choose medicine over food, elder orphans , who have no ties to anyplace or anyone, and embodied tableaux of various caregiving: coordinated, pathwork and multi-directional. And at the end of each ‘fugue’ there is an audible breath. Sometimes the breath is resolve, sometimes, it’s a cry and sometimes it is strength. In another performance, an audience member noted the use of breath in a piece about aging as ‘heartbreaking’ . Breath is life and death.

This performance. We performed Vital: A Fugue on Aging, following a COVID Update by an infectious disease doctor. Yet, nothing in Buffalo had been closed, there were no cases, no one was social distancing, there was a ‘grazing table’, yet there was a sense of foreboding, it was palatable.

Audiences have been immensely present and also very quiet, the piece seems to fosters a lot of internal dialogue, that said, I witnessed a lot of nodding and mutterings through the performance. There were a great deal of men of color in this audience and they seemed rapt as the stories of aging and caregiving unfolded. The theatre piece is both affirmational and transformational, affirming to those whose own stories of caregiving have rarely been told and transformational to those who may be on the cusp of a similar path.

After this performance, a pastor (maybe in his late 60’s, early 70’s..?) approached me. He thanked me for the work and said it was necessary, but in truth it made him, ‘feel scared. Fear for my family. Are they ready? I need to remember that. I need to talk to them. Thank you.’ We did a pantomime hug.

In this last vestige of live theatre, where thoughtful, giving actors’ gave voice to those who in non-pandemic circumstances struggle to be heard and cared for, I’m grateful that this piece might have been a little light, before such darkness.