The other day, a student, sighing, said, “Two years. This pandemic’s been goin’ for two years.” Many people still cling to the idea – some actually promote or create ideas, meme, tropes, fairy-tales, op-eds, “news” – that the pandemic isn’t real. I’ve never suffered from any delusion, illusion, malocclusion (actually I might have that one): I have known it was real ever since March of 2020, when Andra and I stocked up on liquor hours before California went on lockdown. And recently I observed irrefutable proof that COVID-19 is real. Like so many things, this came to me via the theatre.
Theatre knows this is real. It goes without saying that the business model for theatre is one the worst ever devised for dealing with a pandemic brought on by an airborne virus. You cram several hundred people into an enclosed space, close the doors, turn out the lights, and then, for two hours (four if it’s Eugene O’Neill), audience and performers emit bodily fluids via elocution and laughter (tears if it’s O’Neill). It’s the kind of super-spreader event that MAGAttes can only dream about. Social distancing? Have you ever been in a Broadway theatre? When the airlines want to figure out how to cram more people into a metal tube they visit Broadway.
“The show must go on” – an expression so common to the point of having become cliché. If you’re inclined to cynicism, you can chalk it up to money. Theatre brings in the cash. One study put the annual revenue spent by tourists who go to New York City to see theatre at over $11 billion dollars. Eight billion of that is spent on things other than theatre. With the closing, Broadway has lost billions of dollars. Cities across the country have lost. A study by The Broadway League found that a touring Broadway show’s economic impact on a local economy is 3.27 times the ticket price.
Most of the actors I know don’t make money performing, and we were never paid in school, so money isn’t the reason actors take to the stage, even when they aren’t in proper physical condition. My stage heroics never approached heroism; I’ve suffered only a strained back and a sprained ankle, in separate shows. I have observed fellow actors dealing with common colds, not-so-common stomach flu, and maladies that required a steroid shot from the doctor to get through the performance. I put the question to theatre people I know on Facebook. This reply stood out:
I started bleeding profusely in the first scene. Didn’t think I was pregnant, but assumed I must be having a miscarriage. Spent every moment offstage in the bathroom stuffing paper towels and anything I could in my pants. Bled through my pants, but thankfully my tunic top covered it up. Got through the whole show.
We were supposed to take production photos. I pulled my director aside, explained, and asked if we could do my few shots so I could leave and go to the hospital. Got to the ER and passed out on the floor from blood loss as soon as they took me back. Never figured out what was wrong. One of my co actors, who spent 100% of the show onstage, told me the next day he had no clue anything was wrong during the show, so I considered it a win, but definitely the scariest few hours of my life.
Yesterday we had our first dress rehearsal since Tuesday the 11th. The actor playing Nathan Detroit was out with a positive Covid test. Same for the actress playing Adelaide, and one other ensemble player. And we were all masked.
And today – well, this posts at midnight Eastern, some 18 hours earlier than “the show must go on”….
When theatres are closed, something is very, very, very wrong.
When theatres are closed, something is very, very, very wrong.
| Copyright © 2022 by James Knudsen |
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