My brother was pretty surprised to see me at his show Tuesday night. I hadn’t told him I was coming, and I think he assumed that I was going to wait for a weekend show or until next week to see it. So when I walked in opening night, out of breath from hiking 10 blocks in 10 minutes and slightly damp from the rain, he looked a bit taken aback.
“Uh, one please,” I said holding out my ten dollar bill.
“Oh! Hey! HEY! What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” He pulled me into a deep hug.
“Well, I have orientation tomorrow night, video shoot on Thursday, and I’m going away for the weekend so it was tonight or wait until next week and…I just couldn’t wait that long.”
“Aaaahh, right, right,” he said squeezing me tight. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
And I think he really was. Early Monday morning Tom called our parent’s house. I was there recovering from Family Reunion 2006, propped up over a cup of coffee trying to wake up and my dad handed me the cordless so I could listen in on the conversation. Tom didn’t know I was on the line at first. He talked about everything he was doing for Brat and Inis Nua. He sounded like he was rode hard and put up wet. He talked about his worries for opening night, about how he felt one of his actors wasn’t quite there yet but that they had no rehearsal time left. He talked about how he’s only presold 4 tickets for the entire run and how he feared that people wouldn’t show up. Exhaustion and anxiety filled his voice.
As all readers of this blog are aware, my brother and I have an interesting relationship. It goes in cycles of love and pride to annoyance and resentment. I was currently in the downswing from a resentment curve all, “my brother only calls me when he needs updates on his website” because I hadn’t heard from him since our lunch together in July. At the family reunion when people asked me about him, I responded with the “I don’t know he doesn’t talk to me.”
But when I heard his voice on Monday, all of it melted away because he sounded so…worn out. I felt really bad about it. Like, I get that he’s busy and all that, but I’m busy too and I still make time. However, listening to his voice on the phone made me realize how crazy his life has been this past month and I felt really bad for him. Instant forgiveness there.
So when I showed up opening night, I think he felt better with all that anxiety and weariness to see a familiar face in the audience.
The show is held above the Khyber and it’s an interesting space. There’s a bar there, and you’re allowed to drink during the show (bonus, y’all!) and they even have a Welsh beer on tap which is very fitting since it’s a Welsh play this time around. Like Crazy Gary’s Disco, the play is a bit mobile, moving from one end of the space to the other and back again in between acts. I settled in with my Welsh ale in hand* at the end of a row. There were about 10 or 11 people there, so so much for worrying that people wouldn’t show. My brother made his regular opening speech about how theater companies at this stage need more than anything is word of mouth blah blah blah, please turn off cell phones, blah blah blah. As the lights dimmed and as he walked past me to the back of the space, he squeezed my shoulder. It was a squeeze that said, “Thanks for being here. I love you for that.”
A couple of minutes into the show, I heard the tell-tale shhhtclutk sound of a camera shutter clicking. After all the wowing I did in my last entry about J.J.’s photography, it’s only fitting that he would show up to shoot my brother’s show that night†. During the second act, when we moved to the other end of the space, I took a seat on the stage left side (when you go — and you’re going, right? RIGHT? — you’ll see that the seating for act II is sort of wrap around setting) because no one else was there and I figured that actor would be glad to have someone there to act towards (I was right, by the way. After the show he came up to me to thank me for sitting there and exclaimed, “You’re brave!” since I was the only one over there) and my photographer-crush ended up sitting downstage for the second act I was able to watch him a bit as he waited for the right moments to take pictures. After the second act, we moved back to the other end of the space and I took my seat trying to think of a way to introduce myself after the show. As I was contemplating an opening when J.J. sat down next to me. I just turned to him and introduced myself as the director’s sister and complemented him on his photography. I didn’t mention that I do photography as a hobby, because, how dorky would that be? Lord knows I already have a tendency to gush when I meet people whose work I admire. Which I may have done ever so slightly with J.J. Shut up. For his part, J.J. was very soft spoken and humble. Since he was sitting next to me during the third act, I was really able to observe him and take note of the way he angled himself and aimed and shot. That was pretty cool.
After the show, Tom once again came to stand next to me. “What did you think?” he asked me, face tense and anxious. I could tell he was weighing a lot on what I said.
“It was good, Tom. It was really good.” And I meant it.** I could’ve just liked it because I’m the director’s sister and I’m required to, but it wasn’t that. It’s a good show. Another monologue show, and those are tricky to do. They’re easy to fuck up and it’s easy for them to be booooring. But my brother knows how to tell a story. And the actors hook you in fast. And even though the play is gritty and dark, it’s also funny, in that black humor way. Everyone was so good, and the actor that my brother was concerned about stepped it up and sold it (I think that he needed an audience to ratchet himself into the part). Especially good is Charlie, who owns the third act and is perfect to end the show.
Funny note about Charlie – even though I’ve known him since I was six, he never recognizes me. After the show, when he walked out I said hello and complemented him on his performance. He responded in that very polite way that indicated that he had no clue who I was. Charlie never remembers me because I am forever six in his mind. Every time I see him and he realizes who I am, he always does this humorous double take all, “You’re Katie?! But you’re not in pigtails and thumb wrestling with my brother Joey! That can’t be!”
My brother introduced me around to the other actors and to a friend of his who had come and again, I was swept again with the feeling that he was really glad to have me there. He invited me out to get a late dinner with him and the cast and while I was quite hungry and happy to be invited I begged off because I was so tired (I had been up since 5 freakin a.m.). Tom hugged me one more time before I left. And in that hug, just for a second, I forgot about all the jealousy, resentment, annoyance, the age difference, and other problems that my brother and I have. I felt really glad to have him in my life. I felt that he was really glad to have me in his life.
I walked out onto the damp shiny streets and wished for my camera as I walked down Market street with One Liberty Place and the PSFS building towering above me as I hurried to catch my train.
*Why yes, I was drinking beer. For someone who “doesn’t like beer” I’ve been drinking an awful lot of it lately. I still don’t like beer very much, but it really doesn’t have a whole lot to do with the taste, which I’ve grown accustomed to in the past 2 years, but more with the way 1) beer fills me up too fast with all the carbonation, 2) doesn’t particularly affect me (probably because I get too full after about three), and 3) gives me a headache. Not a hangover headache the next day mind you, but a headache the same day. Sucky. Given the choice, I’m still more likely to stick to cider because it tastes better and is less filling, or go straight for the hard stuff. But that night I felt like taking a walk on the Welsh side and kept with the theme for the evening.
** I wasn’t the only one who liked the show.
† J.J.’s photos from Tuesday night begin here.
“Uh, one please,” I said holding out my ten dollar bill.
“Oh! Hey! HEY! What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” He pulled me into a deep hug.
“Well, I have orientation tomorrow night, video shoot on Thursday, and I’m going away for the weekend so it was tonight or wait until next week and…I just couldn’t wait that long.”
“Aaaahh, right, right,” he said squeezing me tight. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
And I think he really was. Early Monday morning Tom called our parent’s house. I was there recovering from Family Reunion 2006, propped up over a cup of coffee trying to wake up and my dad handed me the cordless so I could listen in on the conversation. Tom didn’t know I was on the line at first. He talked about everything he was doing for Brat and Inis Nua. He sounded like he was rode hard and put up wet. He talked about his worries for opening night, about how he felt one of his actors wasn’t quite there yet but that they had no rehearsal time left. He talked about how he’s only presold 4 tickets for the entire run and how he feared that people wouldn’t show up. Exhaustion and anxiety filled his voice.
As all readers of this blog are aware, my brother and I have an interesting relationship. It goes in cycles of love and pride to annoyance and resentment. I was currently in the downswing from a resentment curve all, “my brother only calls me when he needs updates on his website” because I hadn’t heard from him since our lunch together in July. At the family reunion when people asked me about him, I responded with the “I don’t know he doesn’t talk to me.”
But when I heard his voice on Monday, all of it melted away because he sounded so…worn out. I felt really bad about it. Like, I get that he’s busy and all that, but I’m busy too and I still make time. However, listening to his voice on the phone made me realize how crazy his life has been this past month and I felt really bad for him. Instant forgiveness there.
So when I showed up opening night, I think he felt better with all that anxiety and weariness to see a familiar face in the audience.
The show is held above the Khyber and it’s an interesting space. There’s a bar there, and you’re allowed to drink during the show (bonus, y’all!) and they even have a Welsh beer on tap which is very fitting since it’s a Welsh play this time around. Like Crazy Gary’s Disco, the play is a bit mobile, moving from one end of the space to the other and back again in between acts. I settled in with my Welsh ale in hand* at the end of a row. There were about 10 or 11 people there, so so much for worrying that people wouldn’t show. My brother made his regular opening speech about how theater companies at this stage need more than anything is word of mouth blah blah blah, please turn off cell phones, blah blah blah. As the lights dimmed and as he walked past me to the back of the space, he squeezed my shoulder. It was a squeeze that said, “Thanks for being here. I love you for that.”
A couple of minutes into the show, I heard the tell-tale shhhtclutk sound of a camera shutter clicking. After all the wowing I did in my last entry about J.J.’s photography, it’s only fitting that he would show up to shoot my brother’s show that night†. During the second act, when we moved to the other end of the space, I took a seat on the stage left side (when you go — and you’re going, right? RIGHT? — you’ll see that the seating for act II is sort of wrap around setting) because no one else was there and I figured that actor would be glad to have someone there to act towards (I was right, by the way. After the show he came up to me to thank me for sitting there and exclaimed, “You’re brave!” since I was the only one over there) and my photographer-crush ended up sitting downstage for the second act I was able to watch him a bit as he waited for the right moments to take pictures. After the second act, we moved back to the other end of the space and I took my seat trying to think of a way to introduce myself after the show. As I was contemplating an opening when J.J. sat down next to me. I just turned to him and introduced myself as the director’s sister and complemented him on his photography. I didn’t mention that I do photography as a hobby, because, how dorky would that be? Lord knows I already have a tendency to gush when I meet people whose work I admire. Which I may have done ever so slightly with J.J. Shut up. For his part, J.J. was very soft spoken and humble. Since he was sitting next to me during the third act, I was really able to observe him and take note of the way he angled himself and aimed and shot. That was pretty cool.
After the show, Tom once again came to stand next to me. “What did you think?” he asked me, face tense and anxious. I could tell he was weighing a lot on what I said.
“It was good, Tom. It was really good.” And I meant it.** I could’ve just liked it because I’m the director’s sister and I’m required to, but it wasn’t that. It’s a good show. Another monologue show, and those are tricky to do. They’re easy to fuck up and it’s easy for them to be booooring. But my brother knows how to tell a story. And the actors hook you in fast. And even though the play is gritty and dark, it’s also funny, in that black humor way. Everyone was so good, and the actor that my brother was concerned about stepped it up and sold it (I think that he needed an audience to ratchet himself into the part). Especially good is Charlie, who owns the third act and is perfect to end the show.
Funny note about Charlie – even though I’ve known him since I was six, he never recognizes me. After the show, when he walked out I said hello and complemented him on his performance. He responded in that very polite way that indicated that he had no clue who I was. Charlie never remembers me because I am forever six in his mind. Every time I see him and he realizes who I am, he always does this humorous double take all, “You’re Katie?! But you’re not in pigtails and thumb wrestling with my brother Joey! That can’t be!”
My brother introduced me around to the other actors and to a friend of his who had come and again, I was swept again with the feeling that he was really glad to have me there. He invited me out to get a late dinner with him and the cast and while I was quite hungry and happy to be invited I begged off because I was so tired (I had been up since 5 freakin a.m.). Tom hugged me one more time before I left. And in that hug, just for a second, I forgot about all the jealousy, resentment, annoyance, the age difference, and other problems that my brother and I have. I felt really glad to have him in my life. I felt that he was really glad to have me in his life.
I walked out onto the damp shiny streets and wished for my camera as I walked down Market street with One Liberty Place and the PSFS building towering above me as I hurried to catch my train.
*Why yes, I was drinking beer. For someone who “doesn’t like beer” I’ve been drinking an awful lot of it lately. I still don’t like beer very much, but it really doesn’t have a whole lot to do with the taste, which I’ve grown accustomed to in the past 2 years, but more with the way 1) beer fills me up too fast with all the carbonation, 2) doesn’t particularly affect me (probably because I get too full after about three), and 3) gives me a headache. Not a hangover headache the next day mind you, but a headache the same day. Sucky. Given the choice, I’m still more likely to stick to cider because it tastes better and is less filling, or go straight for the hard stuff. But that night I felt like taking a walk on the Welsh side and kept with the theme for the evening.
** I wasn’t the only one who liked the show.
† J.J.’s photos from Tuesday night begin here.
1 Comments:
Beer is awesome. It is so much more than a frat boy drink. It is meant to be appreciated. You will come around, eventually. A $3 pint is so much better than a $7 cosmo, especially in center city.
I wish I could find a moment to run out and see your brother's show. It looks awesome! Lame excuses, but with school, work, and my nephew, I'm burning out and up fast. We'll see.
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