Terror and Doubt

One of the reasons I love theater is the sheer terror of it. You get that whole adrenalin rush without actually being in physical danger. I mean, what's the worst that can happen? You come to a screeching halt on stage, and no actor there has any idea where they are in the script, and no notion of what to say. Yes, it's embarrassing...but it's not life-threatening.

I, like many of you, "studied" "Godot" in college, and saw a campus production. I think I slept...I've seen it a time or two since, and it has always been lugubriously boring. The thing is, when you read it, it's funny. Therefore, it should be funny on stage, as well. Further; if it's funny, that's enough.

However, I have always been easily intimidated by intellect. Try telling me the Jungian or Freudian interpretation of "Godot," and my eyes will glaze over to hide my stupefied mind. So, at the eleventh hour, I find myself desperately hoping that my vision translates into entertainment...in short, I have a last-minute case of cold feet.

You know...like, "Oh. My. God. If this is such a good idea, why haven't I heard of anyone else doing it?" Or, "Who am I to take this "serious" play and have fun with it?" Because, "I am only an egg." More precisely, I am an assistant storyteller. I have late-hour doubts.

So...shout out a "Break a leg" to the actors, and come see the show if you can. Because we are not only rocking the Beckett, we are shaking him a little as well.