Make a Choice
Back in 2017, we were sitting in tech rehearsals for the Broadway production of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Before starting a scene, one of the supporting actors stepped to the lip of the stage. “Jack, for this cue, is it stronger for me to be here or there?” she asked the director. “There!” he replied. “Much stronger!” Feeling assured, she hustled backstage, and Jack turned to his row of assistants. “I have no idea which is stronger,” he laughed, “but she needed me to make a choice.”
This is a directing version of one of the great truisms of stagecraft: it’s always better to make a choice. The actor might have options to play “to inspire” or “to terrify,” and ultimately, either may work. The only choice that for sure doesn’t work is no choice, the limbo between options, the grey area of creative vagueness and indecision. This is where we start to see very blah, very vanilla art, which is why I used to coach my actors that “the only bad acting is cautious acting.”
Making a choice is the most powerful way you can assert yourself as a human being. It is a strong, sometimes scary, often daunting, extremely cool thing to do. So, as early voting kicks off in North Carolina this week, I want to encourage all the young people who’ve worked with us onstage or off—those who might for the first time be eligible to cast a ballot—to get out there and vote. Make the choice. Make many choices; it’s a long ballot.
Unlike Jack in the example above, I am not ambivalent about whether “here” or “there” is stronger in this case. But that is not the point of this post. Rather, as the representative of a theatre that is all about community engagement, I simply implore you to vote. Gut check your values, and vote for the world you wish to inherit.
Next time you attend a DCP rehearsal for a Connie show or an Ensemble class, there should be no shame or hesitation in the following dialogue:
INSTRUCTOR: Hey, did everyone who’s eligible vote?
EVERYONE WHO’S ELIGIBLE: (Enthusiastically) Sure did / Duh / Yeah / Mm hm!
If you didn’t vote, we will not know, and you will not be outed. But may you feel some disquiet, some internal embarrassment, some nauseating vibe that you just gave a middling performance on stage, if you did not vote because:
You forgot.
You thought your vote didn’t matter.
You didn’t know which candidates you liked.
You thought not voting relieved you from accountability.
We live in one of the seven swing states likely to tip the election this year. Of those seven, ours currently has the closest polling average. Your vote, and the infectiousness with which you speak about your vote with others who may or may not vote, can move small margins in meaningful ways. Your friend group’s voting attendance should be as robust as cast party attendance (which is usually 100%, if the turnout at my 6th grade Stone Soup cast party, during which we watched Space Jam, was any indication).
Theatre is cool, y’all, but voting is so much cooler. Get out there and make a choice!