Here’s an experience I’ve had a few times: I invite a friend out to see a play with me, a friend who doesn’t go to a lot of theatre. The play is mediocre or bad. I am apologetic about dragging my friend out to see it, but they demur–in fact, they thought it was great! They really enjoyed it!

This is disappointing to me, and I’m only just starting to be able to articulate to myself why. I am not disappointed in my non-theatre-going friends’ taste. But because I have been lifted to the heights of my soul by theatre, been dashed on the rocks of reality by theatre, been awestruck, altered, asked to change my whole way of seeing the world by theatre, it’s disappointing to me that this mediocre or competently done bit of drivel is all my friend has ever been led to expect from theatre.

It’s like, you know, when there’s this utterly magical place you know about, with an amazing view of the ocean that’ll rock you to the core of your being. And there’s someone really special you want to share it with, and you plan the day for weeks, and finally–finally! the day comes, and you drive or walk or fly to the place–and it’s socked-in fog. You can’t see five feet. And your special friend looks around, and inhales, and nods, and smiles, and says, “This is great!” And they’re not just being polite, they really mean it, they like it a lot.

But it’s not the thing you wanted to show them. And no matter how much you explain about how great the other thing is, they can’t possibly understand without seeing it. And you’re still alone in the vast beauty of the thing you wanted so badly to share, even though they think they’re with you. And it’s frustrating.

So, I don’t know. I could write something bitter about how so much theatre today is crap that it’s no wonder nobody goes any more blah blah blah, but I hate that shit. That’s all of art, right? A hundred failures for every success, and it’s kind of more beautiful that way, and even the worst failures aren’t worthless.

I just wish…I don’t know…I wish that everyone would go see, that hundred-and-first time, instead of giving up around sixty-three. But when I take my friend, and they are pleased by number two, I know they’re going to give up soon unless they get lucky and see #101 early, out of order. Because my friends are smart! They won’t be satisfied with mediocrity for super long. And I can talk until the roof of my mouth dries out, but there’s no reason for them to have any faith in more magic existing than they’ve already witnessed. So there’s a little bit of desperation in me when I take people to plays, because I want so badly for them to be taken and lifted, and I feel like I only have so many chances before they start wanting to do other stuff.

But maybe I am being snobby and arrogant. Maybe I don’t have an exclusive, and maybe, they really, they genuinely were moved by that play we just saw that I didn’t think much of. Isn’t it a little righteous of me to think that I’ve seen something they haven’t, that they couldn’t possibly understand until they see it themselves?

But I do, I do feel that way sometimes. I don’t know if I’m right. But I feel that way sometimes.

-Alissa

next day update: Yeah, so my good friend Dave says, and is right: All this time I’m asking if I’m arrogant to think I’m seeing something other people haven’t. But of course, when they like the play, they are seeing something that I’m not. Of course! And I am humbled to be exposed as so egocentric. :p Thanks for the reality check…it’s true. And so from now on I must remember to ask “what is it? what did you see?” and get knocked out of my box.