I was dreading this weekend, wondering if I would feel wrenching withdrawal pains from the end of the Racine Theater Guild’s production of Les Miserables, which closed last Saturday (June 8th) after four weekends of triumphant performances – and several months of intensive rehearsals and coachings before that. There’s no way you can invest so much time and heart into something without feeling a bit lost when it ends, and I fully expected to topple into an abyss of melancholy from which I might not fully emerge for weeks.
As it turns out, this weekend was filled to the brim with all kinds of excitement and fun …. as though the Good Lord knew that an empty calendar would be the worst thing for me. Friday afternoon’s fun began with the graduation ceremony at Schulte Elementary School, where Kathy teaches (I played for the choir) – and ended with me giving a voice lesson to perhaps the most gifted middle school student I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. (And he fell in love with Handel’s “Where e’er you walk” by Handel, which made my day!) And nestled in between those two events was the thrilling experience of interviewing the legendary singer Jessye Norman about her memoir, “Stand up Straight and Sing!” That was just Friday afternoon! The weekend also included the fun and deliciousness of Greek Fest … the poignancy of Racine’s Relay for Life … the fun of meeting up with two Carthage grads- Melanie and Steve Taylor, passing through town on their way back to Nashville …. the delight of meeting Kadja, the brand new puppy who belongs to our friends Kara and Brian …. the pleasure of a spirited tennis match with my good friend Dave Krueger …. and a lovely Trinity Sunday/Father’s service at church, complete with my “O the Joy” service, a lovely prelude provided by three of our talented young people, and Gary Wee’s touching rendition of Honeytree’s “Father, lift me up.” Who could possibly sit around and feel morose with all of that going on?
Unfortunately, this afternoon has not exactly been replete with excitement, unless your idea of excitement is doing laundry, monitoring Kathy’s rhubarb-raspberry crisp in the oven, and running to Pick n Save for a lemon. And thanks to one particular photograph posted on Facebook for Father’s Day, a beautiful photo of Bob Benson (our Jean Valjean) embracing his daughter at her wedding, I find myself fighting off the Post-Miz Funk that I was dreading. It had already sparked a little over the weekend … when I bumped into cast member Jamie Johnson at Greek Fest …. when I had a brief Facebook exchange with revolutionary Karrius Jones …. and this morning when one of our ushers came up to me and raved about the show as though she had just seen it …. but it’s in the relative quiet of this afternoon that it’s starting to clobber me right in the solar plexus. I miss Les Miz.
I miss:
*the people – such great people, both in the cast and the crew! It’s hard to think of another scenario in which you get to know people so deeply than when you are working together – and working incredibly hard – on something that is so much bigger than you are. And how cool is it when you find yourself liking and appreciating people more and more (rather than less and less) the longer you work with them? This group was a complete pleasure to work with, from the first rehearsal to the final performance – every principal and every ensemble member, plus the crew – and that made this whole journey a joy. When the cast presented Doug and I with very generous gifts right before the final performance, I was touched but also bewildered. Never before have I felt so strongly that it was Doug and I who should have been passing out gifts to them! This huge undertaking could so easily have been a soul-grinding slog. Instead, it was a production that felt like it had wings …. from the very first rehearsals to its final performance. And that was because of the people – who were an ideal mix of RTG veterans and newcomers to the guild, blending together beautifully. And although I will surely see just about all of them again – and will work with many of them in the future on exciting projects – never again will all of them be in one room or on one stage, making this particular magic again.
I miss:
*the music – such a great score! It’s easy to take this score for granted because it’s everywhere – and the composers obviously didn’t subscribe to the philosophy of less-is-more. (I remember being exhausted from the first couple of times I saw it.) But it’s beautifully crafted and one finds just about everything in it: the stirring “Do you hear the people sing,” “Stars” and “One Day More” – the impassioned “In My Life” and “A Heart Full of Love” – the heartbreaking “I dreamed a dream” and “On My Own” – the touching “Bring Him Home” – the hilarious “Master of the House” – the haunting “Drink with me” and “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” . . . and on and on. But beyond the famous tunes are far from the full story. Some of the most masterful writing in this score are in scenes like “The Sewer” – where one can practically smell the revolting evil of Thenardier …. or the frantic chaos of the battles at the barricade …. or Javert’s searing suicide scene. It was thrilling to probe into the treasures of this score, especially with such a capable cast, and then to see and hear these gifted performers bring it so vividly to life. Oddly enough, I am not riding around with the soundtrack to the film or the original Broadway cast recording playing in the car. Honestly, what I hunger for is the pleasure of hearing Evelyn sing “Castle on a Cloud” and Talia sing “In My Life” and Zach sing “I am agog! I am aghast!”
I miss: (to be perfectly honest)
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*the applause – It’s hard to even put into words what it meant to those of us associated with this production to have it be so enthusiastically received by the public. And I don’t just mean it in the sense of having one’s ego stroked. It’s an incredible feeling to know that something you helped bring into being has affected people so powerfully, so profoundly. When I would stand at the back of the auditorium and hear the crowd roaring its approval, I would think about the thrills and excitement that together we – meaning the cast, crew, and directors – had managed to create. Doug Instenes, the director of this production and the managing artistic director of the RTG, has talked often and eloquently about what a great privilege it is to know that you’re making a huge difference in the lives of other people. I’ve always heard those words and nodded my head in complete agreement – but it’s really only with this production of Les Miserables that the deep truth of what he’s been talking about has really penetrated my soul. I would liken it to what I’ve heard described by football players when they make a huge play- maybe a game-winning interception, for example- and when they heard the crowd erupt in cheers, they could think to themselves “all of this jubilation is because of something I and my teammates did! Cool!”
And I miss:
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*the tears – I don’t know if I have ever cried more in my life than I cried during the performances of Les Miserables – and indeed, during plenty of the rehearsals as well. I was already crying during the first principal rehearsals in my house and the ensemble rehearsals at church. There were still more tears during rehearsals in the green room, where the cast created amazingly intense theater even without costumes, scenery or lighting. And once we reached the final onstage rehearsals and the performances themselves, I was an absolute basket case, sometimes spending more time crying than not crying. At one point, I was reminded of something my friend Chris Roules said to me many many years ago, when we were talking about some movie which always moved me to tears: probably “To kill a Mockingbird” or “Kramer vs. Kramer.” She listened politely before gently replying that she would rather cry about Real People in Real Life rather than cry about Make Believe. I’ve thought of that often over the years, but her words really came back to haunt me during Les Miz, especially when I was bawling my eyes out as little Gavroche was “shot and killed.” I knew it wasn’t real – I knew little Benjamin was fine – but time and time again, that moment would just tear me apart… just as Eponine’s death tore me apart before or the deaths of the other rebels right after it. None of it was real- but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. Such is the power of live theater.
What only occurred to me towards the very end of the run was that my tears were not so much driven by the fictional suffering of fictional characters. What really made me cry was the splendid work of these cast members who I cared so much about. When I cried at Gavroche’s “death,” more than anything I was crying at how beautifully 9-year-old Benjamin portrayed that moment – or at how authentically the young rebels up on the barricade cried out in anguish at the sight of his small body slumping to the ground. I came to realize this when I realized that I was also crying at other moments that weren’t nearly as tragic …. like “Masters of the House” or “A Heart Full of Love” or “At the End of the Day.” What I was crying about was the inspiring excellence of it all … crying with gratitude that it all came together so splendidly well …. crying with relief that an undertaking that could have ended badly instead was one of the greatest triumphs in the history of the RTG … crying because I felt so fortunate and blessed to be part of something so great … and crying because of where this list began: the terrific people with whom I shared this magnificent experience.
There is nothing make believe about that!
pictured above: I could have chosen just about any scene from Les Miserables for the picture, but chose something that seemed appropriate for Father’s Day: Cosette (Talia Engstrom) with Jean Valjean (Bob Benson), the man who raised her as his own beloved child – with Marius (Nick Huff), Cosette’s husband looking on. This is towards the very end of the show, and was such a tender moment.