The Chicago Tribune (which I don't usually like, since it converted to its new, obnoxious and USA Today style format) has a story today about moments in theater/art/music that make us cry. They interviewed Chicago arts community notables Barbara Gaines and Bill Mason and ask about moments that have moved them. So I got to thinking what moments have truly moved me whilst watching live theater? I don't usually cry at things, but there have been a few instances... these are the some of the ones I remember most clearly.
Billy Elliot - So, yeah, I was pretty much laughing and crying throughout the whole thing. I think the labor struggle, and the "he can go and he can shine" thing really got to me.
Company - I'm with Barbara Gaines on this one. Raul Esparza singing "Being Alive" after spending the entire show not playing an instrument and being on the outside, looking in, Bobby sits down at the piano... so powerful.
Sweeney Todd - the closing night, after scoring front row tickets, for which I will always owe a debt of gratitude to Sarah, sitting there, looking up at the cast, whose emotions were written all over their faces, and getting stared down by Ms. Patti, at her fiercest. Oh, I am not describing this very well, but this, for me, was the first time I'd ever been moved to tears during a live theater performance. I'm used to going to shows and being entertained AT, and this was the first time I'd been engaged through all my senses, I felt part of it, and that's why this performance will always be kind of special to me...
At the ballet? I don't usually cry when I'm watching performances at the Auditorium, but I did cry a lot at Mr. Arpino's memorial service, during the last piece the company performed. It is called Trinity, and it ends with the dancers coming out onto the stage with candles. They put the candles down on the stage and then leap away, leaving one solo dancer among the flickering lights. He is holding a single candle, and continues the dance, then he puts his candle down and exits, leaving a dark stage, empty except for the tiny points of flickering light. When the company came back to take their bows, the solo dancer lifted one of the candles to Mr. A's box, in a salute to him. That was a very moving tribute.
As far as I can recall, I have never cried at an opera, except maybe some tears of joy when some particularly stinky ones ended (Manon Lescaut, this means YOU. I would also be talking about Frau here, as well, but we left before its great hulking HORRIFIC-ness sucked the life force out of us...)
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