Opening Night

There is nothing quite like the thrill and terror of opening night.  That day when all of the hard work you have been putting in for weeks, and sometimes months, finally comes to fruition.  That day when the general public will at last have the chance to see all the wonderful things that you have to offer.  That day when you mumble backstage that if you had even had one more rehearsal, it could have been perfect, but now you are out of time.  Opening night!

From the moment you step onto the stage, to the final bows, you will finally have the chance to see how everything works in front of a live audience.  All of the flaws and kinks in your production will be exposed, as well as all of the triumphs.  No more wondering “Will they actually laugh at that cheesy joke?” or “Can they see me in the audience if I have to quickly change pants from here?”  It will quickly become very clear what works and what doesn’t, and which lucky folks get to see your underwear.  On a side note, always wear underwear.

One of the most thrilling parts of opening night is often the last minute changes that come after the final dress rehearsal.  There is nothing like going on stage and doing something different for the very first time in front of hundreds (or thousands) or people.  You see, all that stuff I was saying earlier about finding out what works is technically supposed to happen during dress rehearsals, but the thing is, it is impossible for that to happen, because if you discover that something does not work during the final dress, and you change it, then when are you supposed to rehearse it?  The answer: Opening Night!

Another fun part of opening night, which I sadly cannot enjoy in this particular run that I am involved in now, is when someone in the cast still hasn’t quite learned their whole part yet, and so you have the thrill of wondering if they are going to say their line or not, or what exactly might come out of their mouth at any given time.  Unfortunately, everyone in my current cast seems to have memorized their parts in advance, and so I will not have the adrenaline rush of standing on stage while someone runs off in the wrong direction yelling someone else’s line during an inappropriate scene.

Tonight, I will go on stage, hopefully at the right time, and sing and speak as best as I can, and hope that people like what I am doing.  We’ve run the show what seems like a bazillion times, though it’s probably only a dozen or two, and it’s finally time to expose ourselves, artistically speaking.  Things may go well, or they may go horribly wrong, but that is the joy of live theater.  There is a lot of conventional wisdom around concerning when to see shows, although it often does not apply to operas with a only a handful of performances.  I will give it to you anyway.  They say if you want to see a stale performance by bored performers, go to one of the last couple of performances, and if you want to see a polished and well put together performance, go sometime during the middle of the run.  But if you want to see all of the excitement, fear, and possibility of set pieces crashing down and props flying into the audience, then you have no choice.  Opening night!