Play on!

American Shakespeare Center brings live theater back from the dead.

Brandon Carter (center), in American Shakespeare Center’s Twelfth Night at the Blackburn Inn.

Do you remember those halcyon days of yore when the internet served primarily as a means to inform what you did in the real, analog world before it became a substitute for actually living in it? I miss those days. Last week I did something that felt dangerous and more than a little risky. I went to see a performance of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Live. As a member of the audience.

It was the first performance I’ve attended since the first weekend in March, just before nearly every American and European performing arts organization started cancelling performances, then the remainders of their seasons, followed by a mad scramble to create some kind, any kind, of online presence in a desperate attempt to stay connected to their audiences. Meanwhile, many of the venues in which they performed locked the doors behind them, further constricting their tenant’s abilities to innovate quickly, which in turn, further hampered the odds of survival for many of them. It’s been a vicious, destructive, depressing cycle to watch, relieved only by the inspiring pluck and determination of thousands of artists figuring out their own ways forward, mostly in small, intimate ways.

My inbox kept filling up with announcements and news alerts about companies cancelling all remaining performances through 2020, so I was a little surprised when I got an email announcing imminent arrival of American Shakespeare Center‘s 2020 SafeStart Season and the company’s return to live performances, not only streaming online, but in front of audiences in their fabulous Blackfriar’s Playhouse and outdoors on the lawn of the Blackburn Inn, both in Staunton, Virginia. Making it happen took a lot effort from a lot people, and you can read more about it here.

Since I already had plans to be in Staunton that weekend, I discussed the possibility of going to see the opening ofTwelfth Night at the Blackburn with my wife. I explained we would not buy seats, but a space to sit in with our own lawn chairs which would allow us to remain socially distanced from other audience members. All audience members would be required to wear masks during the performance. Hearing the rules, my wife was game. Given the price of the space was only $40, it felt like a bargain that we could bail on without regret if we didn’t feel comfortable. (Othello indoors seemed like too big a first step for me, but now I am considering it).

I was skeptical, but not about the quality the of the play — my past experiences with ASC has made me a fan —but of how comfortable I would feel being part of an audience. I’m that person who doesn’t want to venture out anywhere there are people who aren’t wearing masks properly, and I’m also that guy who finds the manager when I see a customer in the Safeway not adhering to the rules established for the greater good. You’re wearing pants and shoes because it’s expected of you - put on the damn mask.

My primary interest in going was twofold - to support ASC, and to experience how it felt to be in an audience after five months of life under quarantine. ASC did their part fine. The cast had voluntarily placed themselves in a bubble since June to pull this off, and were so committed to the endeavor they gave up their membership in Actors’ Equity Association to perform (side note to Actors’ Equity Association: wtf are you thinking?). The performance was briskly performed, well-directed by Dan Hasse, and integrated well into the lawn of the Blackburn Inn. Standout performances among the talented cast included Mia Wurgaft as Sebastian, Zoe Speas as his twin Viola (Wurgaft and Speas take turns alternating in the roles), a hilarious turn by Michael Manocchio as Malvolio, Constance Swain’s alluring Olivia, Jessika D. Williams’ poignant Antonio, and general scenery-chewing by Nic Sanchez.

On a day when the country crossed the 150,000 Coronavirus deaths threshold and eighteen states posted record numbers of new infections, it felt both appropriate and bizarre to be seated on the lawn of a former mental institution watching one of Shakespeare’s most audience-friendly comedies. In the distance, maybe fifty yards away from the set, is an abandoned guard tower, rusted and covered in ivy, reminding today’s visitors of the site’s creepy history, yet somehow serving as a harbinger of what’s to come if we can’t collectively get our act together.

ASC begins each performance with 15 or 20 minutes of music performed by the players. Shortly before the set was over, Wurgaft addressed the audience regarding masks, and made the case as well as I think can be done given today’s climate. I paid attention, and while sadly compliance was not 100%, it was close. It seems to be an unwritten law in today’s America that regardless of the occasion, there must be at least one asshole present who thinks being agreeable to act for the common good is for chumps, and this evening case I counted five such assholes, but at least they were confined within their own spaces. Still. ASC mostly delivered on its rules and conditions to make the audience and performers feel safe, and I have no qualms recommending the performances at the Blackburn (Othello is also being performed there).

Snacks and beverages were available, the air filled with the sound of cicadas, and the temperature hovered above 80 degrees in the twilight. All in all it was a pretty marvelous way to make our way back into the breach, but I think it would behoove ASC to have a couple of “audience monitors” to disabuse the chumps of their delusions. I’m still weighing whether to see Othello in the Blackfriar’s or at the Blackburn.

American Shakespeare Center’s StartSafe Season featuringTwelfth Night and Othello in repertory, is performed indoors and out, as well as streaming online, through August 26th.
Should you go? Absolutely, except those people at great risk, and you know who you are.
Read the StartSafe visitor’s guide outlining the company’s COVID-19 related precautions here.
Get tickets here or call (1-877-682-4236).

Image of Shakespeare in a mask taken from here.