Optimism from the future

The Transsomethingsomething Couriers Union I know absolutely nothing about science fiction. I haven't even seen all the (classic) Star Wars movies. I joke around about iphones sounding like a wormhole when I actually have no idea what a wormhole is. It has something to do with time and space. I think. If someone had told me just to go to The Transdimensional Couriers Union at the People's Center, I would have laughed and gotten real sassy. But I didn't. On my list of May theater it went because a very dear friend is one of the leads: Anna Sundberg. We studied together at Olaf. I cast her as the lead in my senior play, and we've had years of ridiculous adventures together. She was the sole reason I decided to go to a play based entirely on science fiction. Anna, knowing my taste, called me right before the show and left a voicemail that simply said "don't think too hard about the plot. Just sit back and enjoy it." That I did. And, in spite of the fact that I was incredibly tired and mildly dreading a two and half hour play about time travel whose title I couldn't even remember, it was a great night. A great play. And now I really see a great company. When I ran in right before lights went down, I received a press packet with a draft of the script and a chart that looked like my final project for Introduction to Game Theory in college math. It didn't make sense to me. In the end, it didn't need to make sense to me. Anna was right. There was something sweet about being swept up in a world I didn't understand. The scenes were short enough, vibrant enough, that even if I began to lose focus, something changed quickly enough that it immediately brought me back in, remedying this adult's seemingly constant need for stimulation. There were flashes of light, zips of sound, and some damn authentic acting. Had it been a quality show about Springsteen's epic journey from Jersey Shore rat to rock'n'roll king, I would have been the one geeking out, laughing in awesome disbelief about the many plot twists within the show, as the girl sitting next to me was. I would have been the elderly man who, during the question and answer session after the play, talked about the life of the play going on past the context of this story, comparing it to real life, to the different "pods" of neighborhoods within Minneapolis. "It doesn't just happen on this stage, it happens out there on the concrete," he said. But I wasn't that girl or that man. Instead, I was a passive observer who felt less invested in the story and more so in how that story affected the people around me. There was genuine love there for a world that doesn't exist around us. Watching the playwright John Heimbuch explain that world was incredibly special. He just had such control over all these scientific twists, this brand of fiction (or fact, depending on who you ask) that has endless possibility. My brain doesn't work like that. And I could tell he was humble about it too, a quality in an artist that I respect deeply. For me, the best art is made by people of great integrity. And while I know nothing about John's personal life, he emanated this aura of welcome, reinforcing with a wide smile just how people unfamiliar with science fiction could also get something out of his play. Was it enough to get me back to the next Walking Shadow Theatre Company production? Yes. Definitely. Well, probably. When I ran up to Anna excitedly after the show and exclaimed "I enjoyed it!", we started talking about the core members of the company. She said something that really resonated with me "They just create for the sake of it. And it's EXCITING!" Maybe the secret of the future power of theater lies in a company that did a quirky play for a dozen or so audience members? A company that's willing to take a risk that counts, that's based in scientific intellect yet still interesting enough to capture, and mostly, hold my attention. Did the play shake me to the core like many of my music shows? No, not at all. But, in this instant, I don't think it's fair to hold it to that standard. Maybe it shook the sci-fi lovers to the core. Maybe this was really a play for them. For me, was it enough that I just had a good time? As Anna and I stood outside in the parking lot, she said, about my May theater journey, "It's interesting. Really, I think it just comes down to what works for different people. I wouldn't have gotten anything out of a hip-hop show but there are plays that just leave me shaking in my seat." Is it really that simple? As much as I wanted to pout and stamp my foot and cry out "NO! I'M RIGHT!" I know that's not necessarily the case. At one time, I was that girl that shook in my seat after a play. I just need more. I very rarely accept being a passive audience member in my arts experiences. I'm not attracted to music because it fulfills me intellectually. I want community. I want to feel a part of something. I want to develop a relationship with a song then explode in tears when that song is performed live. I want to pump my fist in the air. So many of my concerts have ended in great embraces because, for that one night, many of the people around me, strangers even, were my family. We didn't just mill out of our seats into the night and maybe smiled at each other as we passed. We high-fived and cheered, sweaty and broken and loving life. Sometimes, I want to sit back and just think and observe with a smile on my face, like I did last Thursday, but how far is that really going to get us? What did that inspire the audience members to go out and do? Can companies like Walking Shadow reach out and embrace an entire generation in the way music does? Maybe not. Maybe they don't need too. (Yes, I also realize how much pressure I just put on them.) Maybe their own subtle journey in the middle of the Riverside Ave People's Center will someday explode. Maybe they'll just continue to thrive and flourish in their own niche. Can they carry the weight of the future of theater in this city? Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it. For the first time in months, maybe years, there's a quality to that company that makes me believe in theater again. That belief is quiet and small, and it could perhaps easily wither when I go see the Buzzcocks in a week, but it's there. Yet, as much as I feel like Walking Shadow is on to something, I still can't pinpoint what. I still don't buy that theater is still the same as music, that I will even be interested in a month or so to go back, but that's why Anna and I are going out for drinks before Mulan on Wednesday, so we can further rip each others opinions apart. With integrity (I hope).