“The show must go on” is one of those phrases that’s accepted as a universal truth. But if you take a step back, it raises some questions about what we value – about whom we value – and why.
It’s on my mind right now because Young James became suddenly, inexplicably, ill an hour ago. (Nerves, perhaps?) And the pre-show meet-up time for his drama class’s year-end performance is less than two hours away.
I could imagine trotting out the “show must go on” card at this moment, doing everything in our power to muster a rally.
And yet we are not. (And, in the broader and more literal sense, the show will go on, whether we make it or not.)
It feels better and more right to attend to the moment, to let go of the fear of disappointing others. (Or James once he’s feeling better, or ourselves).
I’m reminded of one night from back when Kayte and I were both ushers at the Royal Alexandra Theatre in Toronto. (Where we met!)
I can’t now remember which production it was, but something with a big cast.
An audience member was having a medical emergency, and an actor was the first to notice. She made the brave decision to break character, stop the show, and call out for help.
It seemed the right thing to do, to me.
But I couldn’t believe the feverish debate it sparked among the rest of our fellow ushers, after the show. (Ushers – mostly aspiring actors, writers, and musicians – are an opinionated bunch!!)
“How unprofessional!”
“She’s going to get fired.”
“You never break character.”
What a load of hogwash. The ensuing 17 years haven’t changed my opinion a bit. Business is no more separate from people than the mind is from the body.
They are one.
We are one.
And the show can go on another day.
Opinionatedly,
James
P.S. Working in here was quite something.
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The Royal Alex, from the top of the second balcony. |
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