Two Nights with a Tenor

It takes a day or two to sink in. We’ve done it. We’re done. A tiny trace of sadness lurks around the garden door. I don’t have to be at a rehearsal, there are no lights and sound to arrange, I don’t have to find a couch.

We’ve done it. 

We’re done.

And what a week it’s been. All the prep, all the energy, culminating in two wonderful nights with the warm, packed Linenhall audiences laughing and clapping us along. It couldn’t have gone better, in my eyes, and I know the cast feel the same. The word of mouth from a home audience after a play is almost invariably kind, this is a given, but you come to know when someone is being diplomatic and thoughtful and when they really had an enjoyable time. The people at our play had a good time, I can tell, and that makes me happy.

I love the hour before the play goes on, particularly for the first time, as it did on Wednesday evening. For me, it’s like a big ship getting ready to cast off from a dock. There is a calm in the theatre, where everything is prepped and ready to go. At front of house, the first audience members are trickling in, sorting their tickets out at the box office, getting a pre-show glass of wine in the coffee shop. Meanwhile, in the Green Room, the energy is much higher. Lines are run, trousers are stepped in and out of immodestly. Quiet corners are sought and not found, to try to contemplate what is about to be done.

And me? I have a slight and wonderful sense of my own redundancy. I’ll be in the Control Room with Sean for the duration of the show, hitting the music cues and prodding Sean a little for the lighting cues (though he knows he’s got it all under control). All that is to come. But for this moment, as the front lobby swells to a full house, and the in-theatre staff sort out their priorities, and the cast prepare and prepare, I have nothing much to do but smile. I sit on the couch that is the central part of the set, try for an unsuccessful selfie, and look out at the empty seats. I listen to a song on the American Songbook pre-show playlist and hum along. At this very moment, I feel like the luckiest son-of a gun in the whole wide world. What did I do to deserve all this? Important, professional people, struggling to make sure they have learned every line I wrote, an entire theatre at my disposal.

Lucky duck.

I check the vacuum clearer once more, to make sure it will start up when required and then I wander up to the balcony above the main foyer to look down on the people below. I hear my name, someone is saying something about me, I hurry into the Control Room in case I hear something I don’t want to.

The play brings surprises as it runs. A supposed sure-fire gag doesn’t quite hit home, while some presumed innocuous piece of business brings the house down. A music cue stutters momentarily, causing near heart failure in the Control Room. Ronan sings through the glitch effortlessly and, checking afterwards, many audience members didn’t even notice it.

The audience know exactly when the play is over, which is always a good thing. Standing ovation, (thank you), extra curtain calls for the cast. I run from the control room and take the secret route to the Green Room so I can congratulate the cast without meeting a single audience member along the way. I know this theatre really well. It makes me feel a bit like the Phantom of the Opera sometimes, dashing around the less travelled ways, causing mischief wherever possible.

The cast are happy. I’m happy. We go out and chat to the members of the audience who want to wish us well and tell us how they enjoyed it. There is an extra buzz on account of the fact that so many of us have not been in a theatre in over two years. We see old friends and we catch up a little. It all adds to the specialness of the evening. And the play, which is light and airy and not-too-deep, seems pitched about right for this type of an evening. It ain’t Pinter, it ain’t Mamet, but it did what it said on the tin. We’ll take that.

Once more, may I thank Vivienne Lee, Donna Ruane, Ronan Egan, and Eamon Smith for giving so much time and energy to the piece and for making it such an exceptionally wonderful experience. Thanks to the Linenhall Arts Centre who made us welcome and never said ‘no’ to anything we needed. A special word for Sean, who is a diamond in the theatre. And my lovely family, Patricia, John, and Sam, all of whom came and one of whom made a big round trip just to be here for it.

We’ve done it.

We’re done.

But wait. Are we really done? We have a show, it went over really well. Why not go someplace else, do it again?

Why not do that?

Hmmm…