"How lucky we are to be alive right now..." or Broadway re-opens
"Welcome back to the theater," Lin-Manuel Miranda said this past Tuesday (September 14) prior to the first performance of Hamilton on Broadway after an approximately 18 month shutdown due to the pandemic. The audience stood on their feet, cheering and hollering, all vaccinated, all wearing masks, all complying with local health requirements that have allowed live theater to return after the longest Broadway closure in the history of the medium. I was lucky enough to be in attendance for this performance (and others throughout this past week, more on that in a bit) and the sentiment Lin shared resonates with me on a deep, primal level. "I don't want to take live theater for granted ever again."
I don't need to sit here and explain to you the horrors and tragedy of the past year and a half. Since March of 2020, the world has changed drastically, countless lives have been lost, personal tragedies faced, jobs in question, relationships ended, homes vacated, and on and on and on. We've all lived it. We've all suffered in our own way. We're all incredibly lucky to still be here and to have the opportunity to re-start our lives in some way. "Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now," reads a now iconic lyric from Hamilton and it is a notion that has ringed immensely true in my head over the past week.
I don't take anything for granted anymore. I am not going to go into details here, but those who know me are aware of the great personal change I have faced over the last 6 months. I am healing, I am growing, I am learning. Those who know me also know what live theater means to me. I was in the process of making it my career before the shutdown, producing shows and concerts, earning some awards and nominations, finally making some profit on some investments. The shutdown of Broadway has been emblematic of the entire pandemic for me. To me, Broadway is New York. It is our greatest cultural export. It is the lifeblood of our city. It is why so many tourists come here. It is attended by more people annually than all NY sports teams combined. It is frequently what got me up in the morning and allowed me to rest peacefully at night. And then like so much else, it was forced to leave us. Health and safety had to come first. The city was dark and cold and quiet. The streets were empty. For the first time in my life over a significant period of time, the neon lights were not light on Broadway.
I remember in May of 2020 taking a long walk around the city for the first time since the shutdown. I didn't leave my apartment in the second half of March or the entirety of April except for one or two emergency runs to the pharmacy. The city was terrifying in Spring of 2020. I'll never forget it, a collective shared trauma all New Yorkers (who stayed) faced, the sound of frequent sirens still ringing out over the empty streets, the thoughts of "could that be my friend in the ambulance?" haunting my memories. On this long walk my ex and I made our way up to the theater district, taking pictures of all the marquees that were still up, doing everything we could to get a taste of the artform I missed so dearly. I remember thinking on that walk, "when will it open again? What restrictions will be in place when it does? Will it be the same?"
Cut to almost a year and a half later and here we are. The shutdown was longer than I ever could have anticipated. I kept predicting re-opening dates. September of 2020? Nope. January of 2021? Would it take that long? Yes... and then some. The first show to re-open on Broadway was Bruce Springsteen this past June and then a new play called Pass Over opened in August, leading the way for the re-openings of Waitress and Hadestown in early September and culminating with the "big 3" of Hamilton, Wicked, and The Lion King on September 14th. Ah, September 14th. A date I've had circled on my calendar since it was first announced last May. The day tickets went on sale I snatched them up. The thought of September 14th was enough to get me through the worst moments of my summer, was enough to heal the darkest trauma I still faced from the pandemic and other difficult life events I have faced this year.
I know it's a lot to put all of one's hopes and expectations on to one day, to one week, to one event... but this past week has been the most enriching, fulfilling, soulful, gorgeous week I've had since before the pandemic started. I am incredibly lucky to have seen 5 Broadway shows this week with my best friend and producing partner Amber, starting with Hadestown on Saturday, Waitress on Sunday, Hamilton for its big re-opening night, Wicked on Wednesday, and culminating with The Lion King on Thursday evening. The energy in each of these rooms was palpable. The performance of Hamilton took far longer than normal, with immense cheers and applause and standing ovations after major numbers, the audience overjoyed, rapt in attention, a collective sigh of relief as Jin Ha entered the stage as Aaron Burr (one of the best to play the role, in my opinion) and began with "How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence impoverished in squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?" Electric isn't a strong enough word to describe the tone in the Richard Rodgers on Tuesday Night. When Act 1 of Wicked came to a close on Wednesday and the resplendent Lindsay Heather Pearce rose to the "sky" in Defying Gravity, belting out "So if you care to find me..." you would have thought it was 1964 and The Beatles were playing the Ed Sullivan show. These are moments I will never forget. These are memories that are etched into my very core. This is how we begin to heal.
Look. There is much we still need to change and accomplish. The pandemic is still ongoing. There is still a massive amount of work to do in terms of the social consciousness of the theater industry and the way shows are staffed and cast, who gets a say in the room and what choices are made. We need a more inclusive and equitable future in every way. But for one week, for one moment, for one My Shot or The Wizard and I or He Lives in You... everything seemed like it was going to be okay. This is the power of live theater. This is the purity of art and performance. This is how we begin to heal. What a thing.
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