We are less than two weeks from opening night for Sweeney Todd. The entire cast is entirely off book beginning tomorrow. I’m in good shape with lines and lyrics. I’m feeling prepared, and I am extremely eager to see all of the connective tissue of the show–set, props, costumes, lighting, a live pit orchestra, etc.–fall into place. From now until opening night we’ll be running the show, working on tech cues, and polishing what I hope will be a gem of a show.
One of the great joys of participating in live theatre is that doing so gives you the opportunity to form friendships with people whom you otherwise might never meet in your daily life. Last week during practice I had the chance to visit with one of the ensemble members, Madison Hill. She is truthfully a dynamo: an operations assistant at the Paramount Theatre, a mother of three young kids, and a founder of Dyess Children’s Theatre, a new venture at Dyess Air Force base in Abilene. This summer the theatre is producing a kids version of Seussical, with a cast of 37 kids ranging from ages 3 to 16. Knowing how much work goes into raising kids, much less producing a children’s musical of such magnitude, I scratch my head in wonderment at the level of energy needed to do all of that. And yet this is Madison: producing Seussical, performing in Sweeney, working a regular job all while raising three young kids who need her attention–how she does it, I can’t even begin to explain.
Hearing more about the work Madison is doing got me thinking about the different stories that have shaped the journey of the Sweeney Todd cast members. Every one of us has some prior experience in theatre. Some participants have professional training, and some are aspiring to become professional actors. Others of us are amateurs who love theatre but who do not aspire to perform for a living. In spite of our differences, each of us has a story to tell about what led us to the stage. For many of us, the journey began in childhood with some experience that captivated us. Mine happened when I was in elementary school. I attended a local high school musical production of Annie. I was completely absorbed by the performance and awestruck by the ability that the actors had to draw me into the story. A year later I auditioned for The King and I and was cast as Louis Leonowens, son of Anna. Through middle school and high school, each year I auditioned and was fortunate enough to be cast in roles that helped me experience theatre as an extension of who I was in the process of becoming–Oliver Twist in Oliver!, Billy Crocker in Anything Goes, Billy Bigelow in Carousel and many others from middle school to high school to college. I look back on those years with great fondness. I consider the teachers who led me into theatre–Richard Reed and Bill French–to be among the most influential in my life. They helped turn me from a shy, unconfident young boy into the person that I am today.
The title of this week’s post does not come from lyrics in Sweeney Todd. The lyrics come from one of the signature songs of another Sondheim musical, Into the Woods. Near the conclusion of the musical, the witch sings profoundly of the way in which the blessings and curses of past generations bear fruit in the present. Adults must carefully consider the things that they do and the words that they say…
Careful the things you say
Children will listen
Careful the things you do
Children will see and learn
Children may not obey, but children will listen
Children will look to you for which way to turn
Co learn what to be
Careful before you say ‘Listen to me’
Children will listen
Returning to theatre makes me appreciate all the more the role that theatre educators play in shaping youth. My own life bears witness to the profound formation that happens in such instruction. Who knows what seeds are being planted in the lives of kids who step forward with desire–and maybe even some with natural talent and skill–to perform? How will what is happening on this stage shape these children into the people they will one day be? This is one of the great promises of theatre, isn’t it? In stepping into an unfamiliar role, we spend time trying to imagine the world through different eyes. We practice a challenging craft, learning to move, speak, and feel differently about what is happening in the artificial space of live theatre, and in this space we ourselves are transformed. I am 50 years old. The formative stuff that happens when teaching kids how to tell a story live, on stage bears fruit long after the house lights dim.
Kudos to you, Madison. Thanks to you and people like you who continue to cultivate such things in our lives.