WE DID IT
There is something really special about a closing night and the rituals that take place, from final bows with a hopefully ecstatic audience to strike to a post-strike celebration to congratulatory hugs and energy and excitement; to the moment of the work being over and finally being able to sit back and enjoy it; to the moment of the work being over and finally having to figure out what everyday life looks like without it.
And we’ve known from the start that in many ways, our closing night would not be like closing nights before. We would not have that same kind of audience energy and celebrations and hugs. But, little did I know that we would have four closing nights: 1) November 19– the closing night of our live performance, 2) November 20– the closing night that should have been, 3) December 12– the closing night that should have been (part 2), and 4) December 19– the closing night of our show, streamed across the world to roughly 1,500 viewers.
And despite having had four closing nights to figure this out, I am sitting in completely uncharted territory, not knowing how to close this show, a show that, for me, has been alive in my mind almost as a dream, since I was in high school. Closing night of this show means the conclusion of the most remarkable team of collaborators I have ever worked with. It means the show becomes something that lived in our past, rather than our present or future. It means letting ourselves grieve what should have been the magic of live theater that we all got to experience together. It means feeling the incredible sense of pride and relief of having done something really special. It means the world has seen the best of what we have to give, right now.
Because theater and the world are not where they were a year ago today, as much as we sometimes wish they were. I am not where I was a year ago today: a year ago today, I was in the hospital having spinal surgery, a piece of my own journey with disability. And while there are still so many areas of uncertainty in all of our lives today, a year ago, my questions were about how long before I’d be able to walk on my own again, if I’d ever be able to take a dance class again, and how long I would deal with not knowing. And even today, I feel like Christopher, asking if I can do anything, and being met with the echoing silence of uncertainty.
I don’t know if I can do anything, in fact, I’m pretty sure I can’t do anything. But there’s a lot we can do and a lot we have done. What we did had its life of live theater– we had our first closing night– one that I wish more than anything we had been able to share with the masses the way we are able to share tonight. And we close its second life tonight, with our team and our audience spread all across the globe, trying to imagine ourselves sitting in the ‘92 Theater and meeting on Zoom for our talk backs.
And if this show taught us nothing else, it’s that even when the world is throwing every conceivable obstacle in our way, we can still always find ways to innovate and create and make art. Which is why, at every milestone in our process, all that I have needed to say has been: “we did it.” Because there were so many days when we didn’t know if we would be able to do it, or when what we did had to change drastically to be safe or feasible, or when we didn’t want to move it to the past tense and let go of it as a piece of our present. And it was the cherry on top to have done something with such phenomenal people that we can be so proud of and that is shared to so many. and at the end of it all, when I am feeling more feelings than Ihave probably ever felt before, all I have left to say is:
we did it.
Written by Lauren Stock. At the time this was written, Lauren (she/her) was a senior theater and sociology major at Wesleyan University from Dallas, TX. She was the Director and Thesis Writer for The Curious Incident.
[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: our 9 cast members are in silly poses in their costumes and clear masks with Lauren and Annie sitting on the floor in the front. The 4 set panels are behind them- they are gray and have white constellations painted on the bottom half of them. There is a navy border with light blue constellations above and below the photo.]