[This blog will always be free to read, but it’s also how I pay my bills. If you have suggestions or feedback on how I can earn your paid subscription, shoot me an email: cmclymer@gmail.com.]
Brantley never suffered as much in service to theater as I did this week during the one-hour production of Ms. Smith’s 1st Grade Thanksgiving Class Play, which premiered to a lukewarm reception this morning in the cafeteria/gymnasium of Ann Richards Elementary School in Austin, Texas and just concluded its run at the same venue this evening before a family audience.
My god, the things people do for their families.
I have rarely felt so conflicted over the existence of protected speech via the First Amendment when it is this easily taken for granted by the parade of precocious mediocrity whom we are brazenly expected to believe are artistically intentional, much less inclined.
None of the players appeared to understand the responsibility they carry with them while performing, nearly all of whom constantly fidgeted, forgot simple lines, and engaged in tickle fights on the side, all while constantly and shamelessly breaking the fourth wall by waving to their parents from the stage.
One young actor had the gall to shout “hi, mommy!” immediately following her brief and uncritical appearance as a welcoming bowl of corn amidst her disgruntled classmates dressed as various livestock.
Her unprofessional outburst was greeted with the most proactively amused applause of the night, to give you a sense of how outnumbered I was in this audience of mouth-breaking plebs.
The production was pathetically bereft of a sensible score, with any semblance of a coherent musical theme being more scarce than a recent date night among the working parents in attendance.
The most adventure witnessed all evening, near the end of the hour, was the curious inclusion and attempt at a solo piano version of “All I Want for Christmas is You” — the 1994 holiday single by R&B singer-songwriter Mariah Carey which is, notably, not about Thanksgiving, and, in recent years, has grown in importance from an especially strong seasonal chart-topper to a tradition enforced with religious zeal, even if favorable intention comes at the steep cost of personal dignity.
In the earnest hands of Mr. Williams, 3rd grade teacher and aspiring possessor of basic rhythm, the holiday staple is within shouting distance of being recognizable, and yet, it is still predominantly absent of charm.
The acoustics of the venue being unfavorable to joy, there were often moments when the excitable yammering of a 3ft. human being being directed at my head felt concussive and made me question the longterm trajectory of American Theatre.
The writing is plainly abysmal, barely hovering with hyper-digestible dialogue, never daring to spice up one-liners, let alone dabble with something more polysyllabic curious.
The embarrassing lack of narrative structure is only favored by the distraction of a self-defeating manner of collective lisping through an astonishing prevalence of missing teeth. I have never seen so many toothless players.
Nor was there any bite to be found in the supposed message: a story of people from different backgrounds exchanging cultural understanding and mutual appreciation for the necessity of community. It was presented in crudely conceived parables involving stilted conversations between—for example—giant, papier-mâché costumes purporting to be anthropomorphic glazed honey hams.
While the fancy pork recited some sort of hippie pablum about togetherness, I was momentarily distracted by the sheer number of video recording devices out and all around me. There is certainly no way, I told myself upon witnessing this, that these people will actually watch this again at a later time. But I am told they will, that this is what parents do and then force their friends to do with them, as well.
They are all smiling and appear to be proud and even weepy. I despise them.
I emailed a list of questions to Ms. Smith, the director of the play, requesting an explanation for the compounding failures of her production, and as of this morning, I had received no response.
I am not terribly surprised. Excellence in the theater isn’t for the faint of heart.
Perhaps this company will take itself more seriously in 2nd grade.
[Hey folks, quick note: my good friend
has started a fantastic new blog that covers all things in professional women’s soccer. It’s called The Jugadora, it’s fantastic, and it’s free to read. Subscribe here:
Review: Ms. Smith's 1st Grade Thanksgiving Class Play