i folded six paper cranes, attached them to articulating straws and wrapped them into a bouquet. i put them in my purse, got in the car, started my audiobook and drove to downtown olympia where the State Theater of Harlequin Productions resides and where i would see The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe.
the few blocks that surround the old movie theater turned production house is full of charm with its old record store, small diner cafes, and vintage clothing shops. walking into the theater you are met with kind people taking your tickets and letting you know where everything is while you are surrounded by red velvet.
i took a picture of the program, updated my status, turned off my phone to see what adventure awaited me.
i had a seat in the front row. to my left, was a season ticket holder who told me the history of Harlequin Productions and how they had started out in the black box of another theater until they could buy the one we were now seated in. she asked me where i was from and upon learning i had travelled from seattle, listening to my audiobook, she asked me, "what is the book about?" as i told you this week, i'm listening to Valis. i replied, "about a crazy person." she blew out air, responding, "well, that seems depressing." to which i laughed because, yes, it is a bit depressing.
the couple to my right complimented me on my converse shoes and how exciting it had been to have a pair "back in the day." they joked with me about whether or not they were near intelligent life, which i, of course denied, letting them know the search would continue should it have stopped by me first. they laughed and asked me what i did and i told them about my nerd herding in seattle and aspirations on being a writer.
we wound ourselves into talk of the seahawks which turned into being part of the fan base as sort of a connection and how being part of the connection of any audience is part of the experience; even here, the theater we were about to see. the woman specifically said, it's all about "synchronicity." a term i have, of late, become very obsessive about. and is about to become acutely present. the man turned to me and said, "this may sound strange, but we are writers, too."
when i asked, he told me he has published some humorous short stories. he asked what i wrote, i told him i had published a short story, as well. he asked me what it was about. i told them it was a bit of a fantasy story, but really it was a fictionalized story about how i moved through the grieving process. when i asked what she wrote, she told me, she too, is writing a story about a grieving process. i asked him for the name of his book, and he wrote it down for me, right as the lights were going down for the show.
the show. the show was brilliant. perfect. moving. i am not normally a reviewer of shows and i know the convention is to tell you something about what the show is about and then critique it. i won't tell you what the show is about. i want you to trust me. go and see it - read what i have written above about my pre-show experience, and then experience this show. it was pure synchronicity for me.
the part of the convention of which i will conform is the critique part. as a stage manager over the last 24 years, i often have a difficult time watching any show without noticing all of the technical elements as separate from the acting and most definitely separate from the writing. but in this case, everything worked together. a concept i've mostly forgotten.
Terri Weagant's delivery of this material was funny, quirky, compelling, intense and athletic. she lived each moment. she can go from a midwestern housewife to an angsty teenager like flipping a switch; from prostitute to pondering homeless woman like water running over two well worn stones. The subtly with which she brings the opening character around through the story is delicate but not so quiet that you miss the "ah ha" moment (that actually happened out loud in the audience). she can bring you to the verge of tears but then pull you back while you wipe your cheek, unsure about whether the wetness is due to laughter or sadness.
the combination of sound design by Jesse McNeece and lighting design by Amy Chisman brings both humor and wonder as Terri flies between time and space. My favorites here are the channels changing which is reminiscent of The Twilight Zone (a favorite of mine), the appearance of "space chums"(i don't want to give too much away here), and the sound that took me from one time to another that i can only equate to a good drum line - but that's not even right. but it was cool. and lastly, the stars. . .and honestly, that part was even cooler than i can explain because of the set design by Mark Bujeaud. He made a set that seemed too simple but was designed to be put together like the puzzle you are challenged to determine throughout the show. it was a perfect and clever metaphor.
and i must give props to the stage manager, Vanessa Postil, for, without her, space chums could not have arrived with precision, time could not have shifted, space could not be stretched. she must be tied to Terri very tightly for those things to come off so fluidly and exactly.
and it gave me goose bumps.
and i cried. unabashedly, completely, proudly, sadly, and joyously.
i gave Terri the cranes, we hugged, we talked, we broke bread. it was awesome. it was a good day. i met a lovely little theater and breathed in art. i feel restored.
