Witnessing Magic in the Making

Annamaria on Monday

This past Friday and Saturday, I had the enormous privilege of watching how theater magic is made.  And I found it to be a demonstration of human virtues at their gorgeous best.

If you drop in here at MIE regularly, you might have read about my enthusiasm for Hudson Valley Shakespeare - a theater company I fell in love with in 1986 at its first offering  at Boscobel Historic House and Gardens Museum in Garrison, New York.

Since then the company has grow and changed and become ever more compelling.  And my enthusiasm has only grown along with it.  But, until this past week, I have witnessed it only from a fan's and a supporter's point of view.

Here's how that changed.

Every year at the annual fund-raising gala, during the auction, the company offers bidders an opportunity to take a "walk-on role" - the chance to go on stage for a few minutes and pretend to be part of the cast.  In the past, in my narrow point of view, I had always thought of this as something attractive to wanna-be actors or amateurs involved in community theater, used to making fun productions for their neighbors.  But then, finally, the light dawned, and I realized that, if I could screw up enough courage to try it, I would get a chance to observe what happened behind the scenes, to see and learn intimately how the magic is made.

I was right!  And it was gorgeous.

The ancient Greeks considered theatre a religious experience. I now think I know something about why they thought so.  This past week, I got to be a tiny part of performances of both plays currently on offer under the HVS tent.  Actually, I had bid on and won that prize in 2019.  But, we all know what happened in 2020.  As with all theater companies nationwide, the season was cancelled.  It never occurred to me, at the time, to consider getting back my lost prize.  Then, at last year's gala, when the item came up again, I decided to try for it.  And I won.

And this past Friday and Saturday, I collected my prizes.  Yes two, the one from 2019 and the one from 2024.  The Artistic Director insisted that I was entitiled to both.

The shows this year are a hilarious production of

Shakespeare's A Comedy of Error

And, loved by the audience and the critics,

Thornton Wilder's The Matchmaker

I went to see both just as audience member before I showed up as an extra.  (BTW, both totally deserved the great praise they have been getting from the critics.  Check out the schedule here.)

My experience over the past two days so exceeded my expectations that, 26 hours later, I am still walking on clouds.

First, the week before, I met with Charlotte Palmer-Lane, the costume designer.  I had voiced a preference to be an extra nun to the Abbess in Comedy of Errors.  (I figured that my 17 years in Catholic school had prepared me to imitate of nun.)

In The Matchmaker, my role was as a cook in the household of one of the characters.

Costumes in a play, I learned, are unlike those for Halloween.  They actually can make the performers feel like the characters they portray.

The hardest part for me was learning that there would be an announcement to the audience singling me out.  I was for up hours the night before going on, fretting about screwing up and spoiling things.  Was I going to flub and call attention to myself? I would feel more confident if I were relatively invisible.  Worst of all, I was to be given a special round of applause.  YIKES!  I would never deserve that!

Once I worked out a way to deflect that special applause and give it to the people who really deserved it, I finally fell asleep.

Actors Equity rules prevented me from taking picture backstage during the performances.  But even if I could show you such snaps, no photo could capture the beauty of the backstage I saw at HVS.

I sat watching in awe.  The performers and the staff members  behind the scenes, also those up in the booth, whom I could not watch, were all completely focused on the work. The backstage people, calmly and with great precision, moved costumes for changes, put out and put away props, helped actors make  quick changes, and did many, many individual tasks that they know by heart and carry out with aplomb.

While watching, all I could do was admire how beautifully they were going about their tasks.  I repeat the work "awe." It's the only one that fits.

The actors, so calm, so focused.  Even when they were rushing around the u-shaped backstage area.  Unless required to run, they walked at a relaxed pace, shoulders down and arms gently swinging.  Nobody was spreading tension or the least bit of doubt.  Some were silently mouthing the lines they were about to speak.  Then, as the actors readied themselves to go on: they paused, collected their energy, and then stopping for a few seconds, took a breath and entered.

I talked with HVS's Artistic Director, Davis McCallum, about what I saw, and he aptly described seeing that same readying ritual on divers in the Olympics, climbing the ladder, stopping a moment. Then closing their eyes before launching themselves.     

Later I realized that as a whole I had witnessed a gorgeous demonstration of humanity at its natural, innate, glorious best. We, the social animals, have developed and survived by working in teams.  No demonstration of team work I had have ever seen outshines what I saw in Garrison this past Friday and Saturday.

Before I left, I got to spend a few minutes with Nance Williamson, the player of both the Abbess  and Dolly Levy and the actor I most admire.  Over the years I have seen her in scores of productions.  All performances wonderful.

I think the ancient Greeks saw theater as a religious experience because to do it well brings out the essence of what it means to be human. And, of course, the stories speak of humans and their troubles and their triumphs, and what it means to be human.  What I saw backstage was humans at our absolute, radiant best.