Thurs, Dec. 9
... Never meant to do those things to you
The show closed last night... and another one bites the dust? Well, whatever the sentiment, the Christmas show is over for another year, and it's time to start looking at the next projects: Christmas Eve (just a little project), the Easter show (production meeting on Sunday),
Anne Frank (already had 3 months of rehearsal for that one), and
Under a Bridge, Along a River (with rehearsals starting after Christmas).
It was a really fast strike, which was nice. Partly because the show was quite short, but I was home by 11--a far cry from the 3 a.m. strikes I've been a part of before! Dria asked me if I was happy or sad that it was over, and, of course, the answer is that it's impossible to give a straight answer to that question.
It's been interesting to hear people's reactions, though. I've heard mostly very positive things about the show, which is always nice, but I know that it's not as perfect (or as wonderful) as the comments would suggest or indicate.
Still, there's something about pleasing and touching people, because isn't that part of what ministry theatre is all about? Yeah, it's about being excellent, and there's a big part of it that's about stretching myself and pushing myself to be better, but there's also a big part that's about worshipping God and reaching people.
So, I'm conflicted. I hear three different things, and I believe them all, and they all say different things.
First, I hear people say that they loved it. I hear Becky's family tell me that they all loved it, and it was the first show in years that everyone in the family actually enjoyed. Everyone from Maria (age 13) to Bruce (Becky's husband) loved it, and they had a great family evening. That's a good feeling--if that's all I listened to, I would probably start to believe that I was the best director ever, and that the show was bsolutely brilliant. And it's good to hear--I need to know that the show touches people's lives. I love to know that it was enjoyed, and that that goal was reached.
And, while those voices may be uneducated and untrained, they are true. Those are the voices of the people who paid to come and see the show--who didn't come to critique an evening of theatre, but who came to be entertained, challenged, and enlightened.
Then, there's my own inner critic. The one that tells me that I did a good job, but it wasn't all that difficult--I was more of a facilitator than a director. I took something that didn't require that much work to look good, and I made it look good. Where's the challenge in that? And while that's true, the second voice in my head tells me that it was difficult in different ways. I only had a month with it, and I took five different groups of people that were working independently and brought them together in one single show.
That's the voice that tells me that artistic people--people in the know--who came didn't get the full view of my potential. They didn't get to see all that I was capable of, and they probably thought that it was "just another church Christmas show." They didn't see all the struggle that went on behind the scenes, and it's frustrating to know that what I did wasn't recognized. I'm used to it not being recognized by the general public, but people who know what they're looking for should be able to come and see some good--not brilliant, albeit, but good--directing, and I feel like that wasn't as big in this show. And yet, it's the voice that tells me, "You did it. Despite everything, you really did it, and you should be proud of yourself."
Also a true analysis of the show.
And then there's the third voice--the voices of Mike, Heather, and Scott, the three people who worked most closely with me and saw the journey that I took as a leader and a director during this show. They saw the growth, and they saw the struggles that plagued this show from day one, and they still believed in me. They believed in me enough to give me the show to direct in the first place, and their belief was strong enough to keep it with me, even when it was re-done from scratch. And, believe it or not, it was even strong enough to hand over another project to me once this one was finished.
Those are the voices that tell me "We're so proud of you," and who encourage me in more than the naive and innocent ways of the audience. Not just, "We enjoyed the show and know what went into it," but "We're proud of you." With or without the success, the pride and encouragement is in me, apart from my work. Those are the voices that can encourage with weight--that have seen and prayed and pushed me through every step, and at the end, can say, "You did a great job," and say it with the understanding of what happens behind the scenes. And because of all that, they are a true voice of the show.
Three distinct voices. Three distinct views, and all of them are strangely true.
This is the paradox of a life in minstry, a life in theatre.
infinite || abyss
posted at 7:16 p.m.
