a theatre, film & pop culture review
Until September of this year, my constant companion at the theatre was Rachel. It didn’t matter what we saw — Broadway, musical, Fringe, experimental, readings, invite-only shows in Hells Kitchen lofts — we saw it together. We shared our google calendars so that we could more easily schedule our multiple theatre outings each week. We met each other at the crack of dawn, in below-zero temps, to wait in student rush lines in Times Square. We had a shorthand for everything — you stand in line this time, I’ll do it next; you buy the tix, I’ll bring you cash; drinks pre-show? Yep, the usual spot — and we had as close to the same aesthetic as two people could possibly have. We didn’t always agree — though we did often — but it always made for good post-show conversation. (Except when, furious by a show’s wretchedness, I’d refuse to acknowledge we saw it at all — which frustrated Rachel because she loved dissecting everything, no matter how terrible.)
We’re both dramaturgs (whatever that means), we’re both critical thinkers, we’re both SPF alumni (our favorite festival — please bring it back!), and we both love the theatre. No matter how many awful shows we saw, Rachel and I were never undeterred from seeing everything. (Yes. Everything.) Sometimes (read: often) we’d go see awful shows on purpose. Only one person would get drunk with me and see a matinee of Phantom of the Opera — and that person is my forever and always theatre buddy, Rachel.
Rachel’s temporarily on leave of absence, seeing much more brilliant and important theatre in London, but I have no doubt she’ll be back — she loves bad Broadway shows far too much to stay away too long. And like any good theatre buddy, Rachel selected her own replacement to ensure that I would not be left adrift in the sea of (bad) New York theatre all by myself. And for that — and for Dan, my substitute theatre buddy — I am thankful.
For more info about 20 Days of Thanks, go here.