Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

"Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. "

-The Tempest, Act 4 Scene 1


And so it was that with these words Mark Cartier brought the 41st season of the Theater at Monmouth to a fitting end, a week ago Saturday. The build up to that moment was momentous and charged and emotional and surreal--as the final week in any production is. But being the final moment, the culmination of such a huge amount of work and play and such a lovely summer for all of us, made it all the more poignant.

Our final week began as all the previous nine had: with a party. This time a somewhat low-key affair. We all gathered down at the Clap Camp Sunday night to let off some steam and have a few drinks by the lake. There were some out of town visitors there as well, in to see various company members in the shows, and the new blood was a welcome addition to the party atmosphere. The highlight of the party however was definitely when an errant bat managed to fly into the living room and proceed to make a aerial circuit of the house from the kitchen to the porch and back again at least half a dozen times while various members of the company chased it with beach towels and bags and the less courageous howled and giggled and screamed while ducking for cover. It made for a very exciting eleven minutes.

After an extremely subdued Monday off, it was back in action for our final week of performances. Talk in the dressing room was mostly of how few performances we had left for each show. In the midst of the repertory, it did not seem possible that each show only had two or three performances left. But before we knew it, the week had passed like a cool breeze on a warm day. Thursday arrived much sooner than anyone had anticipated, and with it the final performance of Pericles. We all donned our ninja gear, and prepared to tell that epic tale one final time.

Pericles finished well, with a very full house and a very emotional run. Tor, who played Pericles, got to storm the boards one last time from Shipwreck to Knight's tournament to loss of family and finally regaining them. Although I'm sure he would have liked more performances, he certainly carried the show well, and it was a pleasure to support that journey for him one last time.
Friday afternoon was the final performance of The Canterville Ghost, and many of the children and adults in the audience were repeat offenders, having seen the show already, some more than once. It was a very engaged house, although rather adult-heavy. The best moment in that last show for me came in the middle of my monologue where I was doing an impression, and expecting to hold for a laugh that usually came right after. To my delight a child about fifth-row center cackled out a full-throated: "aHAhaHA!" and was the only person in the theater to do so. This single solitary child-laugh in an otherwise subdued house was so unexpected I almost broke character. As soon as I made it off stage I cracked up, glad to know that that kid was enjoying herself.
Friday night was the final performance of Misalliance. This play had been such a bear for so long, and so it should come as no surprise that by the final week we were all really enjoying it. We had started to really find a rhythm with the piece and the crowds were reacting really well to it. We also started to feel comfortable in our roles and were able to relax into it a bit more, and play with it. We had three performances in that final week, and Friday night's was by far the best. The house was packed and the audience was really into it. They were laughing at sections which had never received a chuckle before, and the energy of that crowd really infused the final performance. We found out later that we had added ten minutes of running time to the performance-just in holding for laughter.

At the end of Misalliance, in the final quartet scene with Grace and I as the young lovers and Mark and Gene as the forces of paternal propriety, we had been struggling for a few weeks to get it right. The scene is over ten minutes long and the crux of the piece and after having been on stage for over an hour as a group it was often difficult to maintain the energy needed to propel those final arguments. We had all been tweaking it over the run, and Gene and I talked about that scene after every performance. Invariably one of us was never satisfied.

But that night, it all fell into place. The crowd was completely engaged and hanging on our every word. Each of us were locked into each other and driving the scene forward. The interchanges between us all crackled with energy . . .

And there was a point in the middle of all of this when I was getting ready to launch into one of my big monologues at the end. I spoke the lead in line (which always drew a laugh), and waited for the laughter to die down. As I launched into the monologue I got that incredible feeling that actors get sometimes: that feeling like you are tight-rope walking and flying and sweating lightning all at once. I caught the reverb of my own voice off the back wall as I finished a sentence and realized that every person in that theater was locked-in too. They were all completely engaged in what was happening.

Its like Curt (our director for Comedy of Errors) said at the top of the season: our job is to get the actors and the playwright and the audience on the same page. When that happens, its truly magic.

Well that night, I'm sure that everyone was on the same page. It was a holy moment for me as a performer, one I've rarely experienced. Its the reason why we do theatre at all, and why audiences come to see it. Its the reason it remains a vital art form, and always will.

This energy was also present on Saturday during the final performance of Is He Dead?. Dustin Tucker is usually brilliant, but on this final afternoon he and everyone else in the show were transcendent. There was that rare feeling that one experiences when they know that something is coming to an end and are not quite ready for it to, and so are relishing every moment. There were ad-libs aplenty, my favorite was when Dusty used his handkerchief as a rabbit puppet and asked it a question--something that had not happened before and was so wildly zany that it just worked. And in the second act when Dusty came out and his dress was coming unfastened in the back, Mike walked on in the third scene and made a joke about it, pinned him into the dress, winked at the audience and the play went on. It was a raucous, romping afternoon and a real pleasure to watch the show go out on such a great note.

Finally, Saturday night brought the last performance of Comedy of Errors. It was yet another full house, and we let out all the stops in that last night. The countless gags and constant action kept the show rollicking right up to the end. The best practical joke however, came right at the top of the show, during the shadow puppet sequence. We had all scurried backstage and gotten the screen and ourselves into position. Up came the spot light that backlights the puppets, Maarouf and Maya were manipulating them as usual . . . except one of the puppets, usually a blank yellow silhouette had a face drawn on it. A face, and other . . . parts. Maya instantly started laughing, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I was aghast and sure enough, when they traded puppets and inadvertently turned the others around, we noticed similar doodles and expressions on the rest of the puppets. That was it, we all lost it. It was everything we could do to keep it together enough to finish the sequence. We later found out that one Miss Bekki Doster, ASM and Meggie Doyle, puppeteer were responsible for this madness. Well done ladies, well done.

Constant holds for laughter and improvs that snuck their way in were a delight to actors and audience alike. And at the end of it all, the cast, crew, design team, volunteers and board members all gathered on stage to hear Mark recite the speech from The Tempest, strike the stage three times with the staff, and bring the 41st season to an end.


It was an emotional moment and we spent the next fifteen minutes on stage hugging and congratulating each other while the audience clapped and took their leave.

That night, after we struck the set, the board members had set up one final spread for us==this time in the theater itself. We ate and drank and turned on some music, dancing the night away on the stage where we had spent so much time. It was an incredible evening, and the whole company stayed up long into the night, drinking and talking and whiling away the hours, letting off a healthy amount of that anxious end-of-season energy and taking our leave of the space at the same time.





Morning came all too soon. And with it the final strike and restoration of the space, and the inevitable goodbyes. By noon the work was done and by one o'clock the vehicles were already heading out, goodbyes said, and tears already shed. And as Mike, Maarouf and I sped away towards Connecticut, it was hard to believe that the summer was over and behind us.

I cannot recall ever having worked with a more sincere, hard-working, positive and hilarious group of people. Everyone from my fellow actors to the directing teams, to the technicians and volunteers were absolute gems, and the environment created was an incredible place to be for these last ten weeks.

Thanks to all of you for an incredible summer, and a fabulous season. Thanks for the work, and the support, and the fellowship. I wish you all a year full of happiness and success wherever your journey takes you. And know that you have a friend in Chicago if you make it to the Midwest!

I'll leave you with a farewell message from the one and only Emily Baines:




Until next time, I remain most fondly yours,

BBell


"Go boldly in the direction of your dreams; live the life you have imagined."

-Thoreau