The Show Must Go On

How to harmonize, do a perfect box step-grapevine dance combo, change outfits in less than 26 seconds, and make it look like you just punched someone without even touching them are just a few things I have learned in my many years of musical theatre. I have been trained to project my voice, never turn my back to an audience, and improvise when another person on stage forgets their lines.

Everything that happens during a live performance may be totally, completely, and utterly fake. The two lead actors that just spent the entire play falling in love and then ended the last scene with a passionate, dreamy, romantic kiss might despise each other off stage. A cast of twenty different people can break into full song and dance that seems effortless and unbelievably natural, when it actually took three long, exhausting months of rehearsal to perfect it. An actress portraying a cruel, heartless witch may be the most sincere, kindest person you’ve ever met. Knowing this, it’s easy to believe that everything happening behind that curtain, out of the audience’s sight, is pure deception and occurs without any true applicability to real life.

I can’t tell you what life-changing valuable lesson I learned from playing a flying monkey in The Wizard of Oz, but I can testify to the largest thing theatre has ever taught me: the show must go on.

Through a cast-wide case of mono a week before opening night of Footloose (yeah, the leads definitely had something going on off stage), community threats to burn down the theater because of a controversial production of To Kill a Mockingbird, and the real-life couple playing Mom and Dad in Junie B. Jones breaking up the first week of rehearsals, I have never been a part of a performance that did not experience difficulties. However, I have also never been a part of a performance that did not work through those difficulties and finish stronger, better, and greater because of them.

Any obstacle thrown at a production is an opportunity to be reminded as an actor that the show must go on, no matter what. However, it is also important to remind yourself this as an individual.

Sometimes people will walk out of a rehearsal and quit the show two weeks before opening night because they’re frustrated, tired, and discouraged. And sometimes people in your own life do the same thing —walk out, even when you need them the most. But guess what—the show must go on.

You may find yourself dedicating months and months of rehearsal, stress, and energy to a production to only perform for an audience who doesn’t applaud you, congratulate you, or recognize your talent. Life is no different, with some of your greatest achievements, proudest moments, and outstanding success never even being noticed by anyone other than yourself. Nevertheless, the show must go on.

Maybe you’re on stage and a scene with another actor is going perfectly, when they suddenly forget their lines. A look of fear appears on their face, and you—in this one, critical moment—must abandon the idea of how things are supposed to go, and quickly derive a different plan. This is not what you practiced and prepared for, but you have to improvise. There will be similar moments in life, when everything you planned for falls apart in an instance, and you suddenly have to start making it up as you go. You know where this is going, don’t you? No matter what, the show must go on.

When you’re on stage, in front of an audience who has invested time and money into this show, you cannot turn your back to them. You cannot give into the stress, the fear of failing, or the unexpected actions of others. You must stay in character, rely on the months of rehearsal and training you went through, and envision the final bow, when it will finally pay off. You remember that the show must go on.