So it’s an amazing moment, when it works. When it “comes together.” My mom hates that phrase, it reeks of something new-agey and higher power to her, things she despises, and she tells me how throughout her PhD., colleagues would reassure her, “Devorah, don’t worry, it will come together,” and she hated that, but then, towards the end, clockwork and just as they said it would, of course, it came together.
I once watched Glenn Close on “In the Actors’ Studio,” a hack show if there ever was one and I wonder about the impact it has on the cultural imagination of America w/r/t actors–but anyway, she described great theater as “changing the molecules in the room.”
I feel that when it happens, I do, it’s true, I’m not kidding, the air literally changes weight and texture, the room vibrates differently, you are in an alternate world. We only had four shows. For the first two, the room didn’t change. The last two, it came together. How can almost all the pieces be the same, be exactly the same–and be such dramatically different shows? How can that happen?