When a show is a huge success on Broadway, it has the potential to run for years and years and years. This is wonderful news for theatre fans who only come to New York City every once in a while -- and especially for those who make it to Broadway just once in a lifetime!
For those of us lucky enough to live (and breathe) Broadway here in New York City, long-running shows present an equally exciting opportunity -- the chance to see multiple actors playing the same role. This allows for comparing and contrasting, developing favorites, and learning the details of what makes the character (rather than the actor) tick.
This week, three leads from Next to Normal -- Jennifer Damiano, Brian D'Arcy James, and Tony winner Alice Ripley -- took their final bows and made way for their replacements (Marin Mazzie, Jason Danieley, and Meghann Fahy respectively). Their final performance was an emotional event, not to mention packed -- the lottery crowd was huge, as fans gathered in droves to see these celebrated actors one last time. But the following night was almost as crowded; I stopped by that night as well and recognized many familiar faces, some who had even won lottery seats the night before. (Sadly, my luck didn't take either night, so I didn't get to experience the goodbye or the new beginning first hand.)
Repeat attendance at favorite shows is rampant among die-hard fans (my recent column tells of folks who have returned to see their favorite shows in the hundreds, and even thousands, of times). But when I saw the same faces vying for tickets on these two particular consecutive nights, it got me thinking about the appeals, and also the drawbacks, of seeing multiple actors playing the same parts on Broadway.
When a show really moves me, I generally feel the need to go back to see it again right away. I'm usually hoping to see the same cast -- a near reproduction of the performance with which I fell in love. This was how I felt about Spring Awakening, Hair, In the Heights, Passing Strange, and [title of show]. I saw each of these musicals at least twice with their full original casts, and in the case of all five musicals, I was able to feel like a part of the world of the show as I watched. I felt more like a member of the community of the story than I did an observer of a theatrical event. My suspension of disbelief was off the charts -- I was completely in the world of the show, temporarily transported outside of my own life. This is one of my favorite aspects of theatre, and the one that is most likely to make me want to return to a show I have loved.
Once I have seen a show several times, I begin to watch as a theatre-maker, an outsider observing the craft of the show (as opposed to losing myself in its fiction). I know the dialogue and the songs well enough to start noticing technical aspects like the lighting rigs, the length of the blackouts, and the quick costume changes. I'm newly aware of slight differences in timing of line delivery, or when an entrance is missed, or an actor breaks character for a fraction of a second. This changes the experience of going to the theatre. And while I may no longer be so transported into the world of the play, a new kind of enchantment unfurls -- the magic of the craft of theatre: the intricacies that make each performance, and also each actor, unique.
I remember the excitement of seeing understudies in Spring Awakening. While Lea Michele, Jonathan Groff and John Gallagher Jr. will always be the quintessential Wendla, Melchior and Moritz in my mind, it was fascinating to attend performances in which Phoebe Strole stepped into Wendla's dress, Matt Doyle took on the intellectualism of Melchior, and/or Gerard Canonico combed up his hair and twitched in his own unique take on Moritz. The compare-and-contrasting of different actors in the same roles -- especially as understudies, when the casts around them remain the same -- is the perfect window into what elements of a show have been dictated by the director, and which have been created by the actor. (If the original lead taps her left foot compulsively, and the replacement or understudy does too, you can bet it was a directorial choice. But if the original actor has a whiny line-delivery, and the replacement speaks more angrily, it's more than likely a choice made by the person filling the role.) For connoisseurs of the craft of theatre, it can be highly informative -- not to mention fun -- to break down these minute differences in performance.
