Opening Night and the Director

"I bet you can't wait until opening night."

I get that a lot. In fact, it's one of the most common statements I hear from people when I'm working on a play, both as a director and an actor.

As an actor, opening night is like Christmas. There's an excitement that I can feel the moment I wake up that morning. There's a nervous tension in the pit of my stomach that makes it almost impossible to sit down longer than ten minutes at a stretch. (Which is hard enough for me to begin with.) The delicious anticipation as I enter the stage door and begin my pre-show routines. Dressing, stretching, vocal warm-ups, and on and on... I'm a very ritualistic actor when it comes to my pre-show prep. Everything done in the same order at the same time. It's not about superstition, it's about preparation. It's what I have to do to get myself physically and mentally ready for the show. Ultimately, it's all to distract myself from the terror in the back of my mind that I might, MIGHT, fail. I used to get so worked up before performances that I'd throw up before curtain every night. (Needless to say, toothpaste and a toothbrush were a part of my regular ritual, and still are even though the preceding problem is not.) Opening night is something that actors can't wait for, yet often approach with an almost unnatural fear. "Are we ready, or could we use another week?" (Actors always want another week.)

As a director, though, opening night is usually bittersweet. Here is this thing that has been a part of my life for sometimes over a year by the time you include the selection, analysis and research phase, and rehearsal process. For actors, opening night is the beginning, for the director, it is the end. Once the show is open, it no longer belongs to me. It belongs to the actors and the audience. The play takes on a life of its own, and I'm no longer part of that life. It's like being dumped. The play moves on without me, and I move on the next play, which I'm already several weeks or months into the planning of. What I'm left with after opening is a strange sense of lethargy. Usually, 6 pm Monday rolls around, and I feel like there's somewhere I should be, something I should be doing. It usually passes in a few moments, but this goes on for several days.

There is also joy, however. To sit in the audience on opening night to see this event that you've worked so hard on finally makes it debut, and to watch these people to whom you've grown so close come into their own as artists, is a special feeling the likes of which cannot be described, only experienced. The familiar terror is also there, "Oh God, I hope this isn't awful!" And, of course, there is relief: we made it, it's good, and I can let go and not worry anymore.

So, do I look forward to opening night? You bet. Even though my involvment in the show all but ends, good theatre is never finished. It is always evolving; it is growing, changing, getting better with each passing performance. If I've done my job right, once opening night comes along, the cast and crew no longer need me. If I've done my job right, their artistry will take over. If I've done my job right, I'll be missed, but not needed.

"I bet you can't wait until opening night!"

Only a sucker would take that bet.

A Brief Introduction

Oh no, not another blog! You can't make me read one more blog! What could this person have to say, that I don't already know?

Yes, yes, it's another blog. No, I can't make you read one more blog. But I can hope that we discover that there is still a lot of learning to do.

This blog is going to be about the La Crosse Community Theatre, a theatre that has been active for 46 seasons and hopes to continue for at least 46 more. LCT, much like every other theatre has had it's struggles, challenges, rewards, hopes, fears, dreams fulfilled and dashed. What is different is the arrival of a new executive director who comes aboard in an effort to guide and advise the theatre as it moves into a new half-century. There is talk of a new theatre, new organizational structures, new offerings, new ideas and new procedures. But in combination with the commitment and talents of experienced staff and volunteers there is no telling where LCT can go.

The hope is to produce a blog weekly written by the Executive Director or the Artistic Director. Each will present a perspective on current events and future projects. We will also include some education and/or advice on what is takes to create theatre, providing insight to the stage, the backstage and the front-of-house operations.

This is not meant to be a gossip column nor a lecture from the "experts." Rather it is hoped that this blog will be another avenue that leads to an understanding of the value of community theatre for the participants, the audience, and the region. If something is useful, that will be a bonus. If something offends, we apologize in advance, but we have learned that there is nothing you can do that won't offend someone.

If you would like to make comments, offer suggestions, ask some questions, or just be a part of the process, feel free. We too hope to learn a thing or along the way.

Until next week, yours in theatre.

David Kilpatrick Greg Parmeter
Executive Director Artistic Director