A friend who is a Tony voter (Yes, I'm that old.) recently sent me a curious text. It read:
Want to see a Tony show June 1?
Trust me. You'll love it cause I'll choose it.
After a brief impulse to press her to reveal which show she was inviting me to, it occurred to me that if I could set aside my ego and my pride which whisper meaningless nothings like:
You are too important a person with limited hours
in the day to waste an entire evening on
some sub-par work! What if it's something empty and
heartless and tedious? You'll never get those hours back!
On the other hand...
If I thought about it differently, it is a unique kind of openness we feel when we sit in the growing darkness as the house lights fade and the show is about to begin. Blissfully ignorant of what this thing we're going to witness is about or possibly even what its title might be...
When you're playing the role of the audience, isn't total ignorance the point?
Think about that level of ignorance. I'd argue that ignorance of that degree—the kind that allows us none of our ready-to-wear armor of defenses we call up to shield us from certain views, styles, arguments, issues we find difficult to swallow—that level of ignorance (or openness) makes us into the ideal audient.
At least from the writer's point of view.
Because if I have not been prepped by word of mouth, reviews, the reputation of actors, director or writers, if I know almost nothing about the show that's about to begin I am an easier target, very likely more available to whatever tugs, jolts, shoves or taunts the show has prepared for me. And I may be hit hard.
And it may take me a moment to recover my equilibrium. And I may hate it and resent it and huff and puff all the way home.
But still... something will have intruded on my comfort, my bubble to tap-tap-tap at the protective barrier we and A.I. are systematically constructing between each of us and the rest of the troubling, inconvenient and painful world around us.
Calling on the Hive Mind:
Help Me Find a Way to Take My Seat Blind
So... I'm actually trying to imagine a way in which I might join my friend and take my seat and wait for the curtain to rise, all without even a hint or a clue as to who wrote it, what it's called, whether it's a play or musical and who's in it.
Do you suppose that such a thing is even possible?
Not a rhetorical question. I'm seriously searching for ideas, seriously seeking your input.