human nature

“The problem with people is that they're only human.”
-Bill Waterson

People can surprise.

Saturday night I stumbled into the theatre ready for our play to compete with the Gators v. Alabama game, hoping to find more than tumbleweed. I have seen plays at this small all-volunteer community theatre play to audiences of two before. The show must go on, as they say, but at an overall disservice to all involved when the cast outnumbers the audience. Our matinee last week held the worst house to date at seven audience members.

It's disheartening to see so much hard work and artistic passion become so ignored. This show deserves to have crowded houses and to push people away at the door. I don't financially benefit from this, but the theatre does. I know what kind of show I have assembled and it breaks my heart to see it in the shadow of the safe, hackneyed, sell-out show put on at the start of the season by the old man who wanted our play pulled from the season.


I see a certain self-fulfilling prophesy quality to the proceedings. I have literally spent the last season working on a play that explores hidden truths buried under our civilized guise, only to learn more about human nature than I ever intended from weaving through its entrails and discovering more of others weakness than I ever thought feasible. By contrast from the ashes of so much failure, I have seen a few others show surprising strength. Though it's not the true direction that I was taking the show, my cast loves to speak of the show as a struggle between Alphas and Betas. I think this is the case on both sides of the stage.

Saturday night I sat awaiting the start of show. I watch every performance. I always have, but this season the newly aligned figurehead Board has decreed that directors be at all shows to introduce it. The theatre is a small, intimate space. There is a quaint nature to going that direction. I do prefer it to their raffle at intermission concept that they are also running, which plays like a County Fair interruption to my dirty, little show.

I sat overlooking the set that came together so wonderfully at the tail end of our rehearsal schedule, bobbing my head at the music I chose to introduce the audience to the tone before the show starts, and who should I see appear out of the corner of my eye but my sister and brother-in-law. I hadn't heard from them except sporadically for some time now, and I kept getting the feeling they were overlooking my interest to have them see the show. My wonderful girlfriend colluded with them to arrange for their surprise out of town visit.

As is within the Venn diagram vein of a fractured life, they were avoiding arriving at the same show our parents were slated to see since they continue to have their emotional Mexican stand-off of silence and mutual apprehension. On that same token, I had to request of a friend to ensure that my ex didn't come out to the same showing as my parents would be in attendance.

Who knows how any of that would really go? My sister thought my parents would walk out on this raunchy show. They actually laughed up a storm and saw many of the depths of what I was going for that others seem to have missed. And strangely things were much more tense hanging out with my sister than with my parents. Sometimes a leap of faith is what you need.
Sometimes people can surprise you. Sometimes that person should be you.