Above the Sounds of the Real World
Posted by Rachel Brosnahan on 6/24/2009
Rachel Brosnahan plays Maria in Up by Bridget Carpenter
I will never forget my first matinee. I got to miss a whole day of school to see Les Miserables in the city with my seventh grade humanities class. As we passed through the theatre’s giant glass doors, all sound seemed to fade away and everyone suddenly felt the need to whisper. Accompanied only by the sounds of shuffling feet and air conditioning, we made our way to our seats. Within minutes, the house lights faded and the orchestra filled the house with a rich prologue as the lights came up on the stage. After nearly 3 hours (the show was performed without an intermission) of music, dance, violence, love and oppression, I relaxed in my chair realizing that I had literally been sitting on the edge of my seat. My head was spinning as I floated back onto my feet, joining the rest of my class as we filed out of the theatre. As we exited through the same glass doors I was sharply snapped out of my dreamy state. As Walter, the central character in Up, says, “I started hearing all the sounds of the normal world again. Cars, trucks honking. Kids playing.” The sun was too bright, the sounds too loud. We loaded onto the smelly yellow school bus with the sticky leather seats and hit every pothole on our way back to school. I was slightly unsettled by how dirty everything was—gum under the seats, dried mud caked on old tennis shoes.
Now, my experience with the show itself may not have been as momentous as I remember it, but the slightly disconcerted feeling that washed over me as I left the theatre has been one I continue to experience every time I attend a matinee. The second my feet hit the pavement and my eyes readjust to the daylight, I can’t help but feeling extremely grounded—heavier somehow. There’s something about the darkness of nighttime that suspends this inevitable plunge back down to earth. It shadows all the harsh imperfections that the daylight reveals and lets us remain on that other plane—that heightened state—that seeing a good piece of theatre inspires.
While we can never escape the daylight, theatre has an immense gift to offer us. For two hours or so, we can allow ourselves to be lifted by music, lights, spectacle and stories that we don’t need to control. Although we know that they will always return, we can escape “the sounds of the real world” for a short while, and re-enter our often chaotic lives with the knowledge that we can always get back to that place.
In my opinion, it is not only the audience that gets to go “up” when attending a performance. Every day I spend with this amazing cast and crew I feel privileged to be a part of a group that lifts one another up both on and backstage. I am so thankful that I get to learn and grow with this incredible ensemble and could not possibly imagine having a better first experience in professional theatre. I’m sure I can speak for most actors when I say that we are lifted onstage because we get to play and do what we love with people we love doing it with, and that is a gift.
Despite the slightly unsettled feeling I continue to experience post matinees, I know that being grounded is important. Up reminds us that we must adhere to our daily responsibilities but we must also have and pursue our dreams. Both drives need to exist simultaneously to keep everything in order while still allowing ourselves to be fulfilled—“Onward and upward!”