Reflection: Lessons from Community Theatre

The Well Canto Newsletter Mental Fitness for Singers

Volume 3

We chose our seats in the tiny theatre for leg room and at least a little distance from the stage. The arm rest on my left was missing its pad, offering sharp, cold contours instead. I spread my coat over me like a blanket in defense of the February night air encroaching through the emergency exit doors nearby. We had opted to exchange our usual sofa-streaming evening to attend a community theatre performance in support of our friend whose day job is in the category of things professional musicians don’t really take the time to understand. 

As I waited for curtain I marveled at the atmosphere of pride. The old converted building was replete with miniature versions of a functional lobby, box office, and concessions, while the house boasted theatre seats (albeit some with missing parts), beam lanterns affixed to the acoustic tiled ceiling, and a proper stage precisely dressed. For nearly a hundred years in just this little community theatre alone, countless people had poured their resources into making something... together.  I was impressed, and I wondered how many similar scenarios were playing out on this Saturday across America, and the whole world. 

Having spent my professional life in theatres and concert halls, I’m aware of the thousands of considerations needed to produce even a single performance. Why do people do it? Most of us have been convinced that money and influence is what motivates everything we do; absolutely true for some. Having money and influence means having stuff and comfort and getting your way, which means happiness, or so the theory goes. Ergo, we organize our life around chasing those things down. But for community theatre? Fame and fortune just cannot be it. 

So why in the world were these people here on this night? Why had they spent months of their lives - their otherwise free time - to show up, to memorize, rehearse, don silly costumes and wigs, and perform night after night, sometimes to an audience of 20? And then there are the crew and support team… why would anyone do this? 

Well, I didn’t actually ask, but I can tell you that from the moment we approached the closet-sized box office the vibe was a combination of warmth and spark. Each and all had purpose, and their delight was contagious. We felt part of something, something created with joy and hard work. We were welcomed in, allowed to receive and witness and enjoy. 

During the performance I noticed it all: the stagecraft, directorial choices, timing, dropped lines, recovery, all of it…and I was moved.  Moved by the respect the actors had for themselves, one another, the piece, and thousands of years of theatre tradition. Moved that these amateur thespians made the choice to show up with their ardency and professionalism and do the thing. All that was required of us was to contribute a few dollars for tickets, concessions, and a 50/50 raffle at intermission. 

How was the actual performance? I won’t say, because I will always cast in with the artists and never the critic. And it doesn’t even matter. What matters is that many people got up and out of their homes and came together to share of themselves. There was no complaining, no animosity, no conflict, or arguing. There was commitment and creativity and meaning. As I sat there in the dark I felt so proud to be an artist. These were my people, and I was grateful to be among them. 

What community arts organizations are in your town? 

Theatre? Chorus? Symphony? Musicals? Dance? G&S? 

They would love to see you, and you will be richer for it.