The closing notice is a public admission that the show absorbed a bruising body blow. And that potential ticket buyers stayed away because of a round of reviews. I don’t feel like mincing those words. An incredibly strong presentation of a “wildly audacious, genre-defying show” is felled by a first wave of notices that puts its ticket sales in a deep freeze. A second wave of good notices comes late, a full ten days to two weeks later, but ticket buyers don’t seem to respond. So rather than noticeably limp home to one finish line, we consolidate our performances and go out singing strong. That’s the logic and the reality of what’s happening.Background here. Some photos of the production here.
We didn’t expect this show to be such risky material. One person’s classical narrative is another person’s uneasy bible story “best left to Sunday School.” As I’ve written before, we pressed an Ambivalence Button here. We know that some of our critics had rejected postmodern, biblical narrative-driven theater pieces before and still we went forward convinced that the stature and seriousness of our endeavor–the sheer quality of what we were amassing–would win out. There were many partial victories throughout. Mastering the music. Fielding a top flight band to play it out. Integrating dance. Pulling it off. We hit a home run with some, and struck out with others. “Head held high, sir” Uriah tells the young shepherd boy after David kills the giant in one of the funnier comic moments in our show. We strike the pose, like Young David. And parade our show proudly. Still haunted by what’s just transpired–an act of violence that we were a part of–as we soldier on with many new battles still in store. And all those new wives… Hmm… David’s drama will live on and on. But we close in two Sundays.
“The King is dead/LONG LIVE THE KING.”
(Heads up, Carla Sulzbach.)
