November 14, 2009

In bed barely before 1 in the morning after one of those silly, but ubiquitous, “talk back” sessions at the theater. It was worth it to see A still bubbling with energy, fielding questions with elfin delight. Expenditure of energy breeds energy, we know, and at the end of the show he is a volcano, while I can scarcely stagger out the door to my car. We had a full house last night. The show was slow, because a number of us were playing to the audience, adding bits that seemed like they might work. The good will toward us in the community is vast and general.

Elaborate dreams of returning to the first house I ever stayed at in Ireland. During the dream I assumed it was a faithful return and reconstruction, though when I woke I realized there had never been such a place, or, if there had, I had never been there. The house was painted in murals on a green background all through (rather oddly Pennsylvania Dutch), and girls in frilly aprons sailed every which way with trays of tea.

Looked in the Mountain Xpress theater blogs for a Hamlet review. Read two samples: one was awkward, the other bloviating, so maybe absence is blessing.

Here is something to chew on: Theater is not about pleasing the audience. One hopes to please the audience; one is joyful when one pleases the audience, but if one sets out with that achievement solely in the center of the mind, the result is not theater.