There I was, a month and a half from graduating, and I found myself wearing a comically oversized sweater, a godawful plaid jacket and an enema bag strapped to my stomach. I've been doing improv comedy with the Buttered Niblets for four years, so I lost my dignity long ago, but this seemed like a new low even for me. I was playing Old Man Strong in the Barnstormers' production of Urinetown, and my task was to lean against the back wall of the set, unzip my fly, release the stopper on the tube at the end of the bag and let loose. For six performances, I had the privilege of "peeing" on the Swirnow Theatre stage to the gasps of our patrons.
I, too, was shocked, but not because I was relieving myself in public. I was shocked that I was in a musical at all. I'm a senior, I'd never sang in public or memorized lines before - except for my stunning theatrical debut in my eighth grade play, Gone with the Breeze, a moving tale from the author of The Eskimos Have Landed and Stop That Villain! True story. Hell, I barely even like musicals. I tried out on a lark, curious if I could get a part at all. Next thing I knew I was pouring 30 hours a week into rehearsal. I even had a dance scene, and I'm about as much of a dancer as Ashlee Simpson is an astronaut. Or a singer.
But a funny thing happened: I loved every second of the show, and now only a couple weeks removed from the stage, I miss it terribly. But it's not the final product that stuck with me. What I will remember most was the process of watching hundreds of hours of memorizing and singing and set building and lighting become one glorious two-hour show. The show brought together engineers and Arts & Sciences students alike, who despite their busy schedules found the time to work on a production together. That unyielding commitment resulted in one of the best collaborative projects of which I've ever been a part.
But Urinetown isn't unique. This semester alone, Johns Hopkins University Theater has put on Lanford Wilson's Book of Days and Fifth of July, the culmination of a semester-long project for the Theatre Arts department's Performance class. Witness Theater had their showcase of student-written and -directed one-acts, as well as a 24-Hour Theater Experiment. The Buttered Niblets took a brief hiatus from improvisation to put on a full-length play, Sex a.k.a. Wieners and Boobs, and this Friday I'll be performing improv with them for the last time.
Hopkins has something pretty special in its theatre scene, and I've had the great privilege to watch it grow for four years. It's all thanks to the incredible people willing to devote so much of their time to every performance. When Witness organized the 24-Hour Theater Experiment - in which participants wrote, produced and performed shows in one 24-hour period - they were worried that few would take part. Instead the response was overwhelming, and the project will likely turn into an
annual event.
I hope it keeps growing. Theatre Arts should become a full-fledged major, attracting people to Hopkins who specifically want to study drama. Students should (and I imagine they will) keep getting involved in large numbers.
Now is a great time to start: with unique venues and a growing audience, theatre is gaining ground at Hopkins. In my time with the Niblets, we've gone from performing for crowds of 50 to filling Arellano Theatre to standing-room capacity.
One of the most spectacular experiences for me (although I'm sure the rest of the cast would disagree) was striking the Urinetown set after our last performance. It was a large, complex set, and we had to remove each element methodically. We dismantled the set with the same spirit of camaraderie that brought us together in the first place. Our performance - on stage and off - was tightly organized and brilliantly executed.
In the controlled chaos of strike, I saw it there on the prop table: my precious pee bag. Should I take that memento of my musical debut? No. I left it to inspire future generations of Hopkins actors who might one day grace the great stages of Arellano or the Merrick Barn or Swirnow, and then - with any luck - pee on those stages.
