Mia Oudes
I am a complete outsider to what it is that Thank You, Ten is celebrating. I have never seen a Footlights show, but I was looking forward to sitting back to watch some musical theatre... and try to resist the urge to sing along.
I walk into Tapere Nui, and was greeted by a set that far exceeded my expectations. I had assumed that, given this was a selection of songs and not a play, the director would opt to keep it simple. In other revues I’ve seen the stage is bare barring the band, a microphone and maybe some chairs. I was thrilled to see such a wonderfully crafted papier-mâché assortment of sheet music, crawling up the walls like the tree that it was made from. There were swirls drawn out from behind the band, and tiered stairs are lined with that same sheet music. The lights are effective, a blue side light that blends into the violet from above. The set, conceptualised by director Laura Gardner; actualised by one of the co-musical directors Michael Stebbings and one of the publicists Abigail Helsby - both also in the show; is well imagined and well executed.
The house lights go down, and there is a roaring applause. I am in the company of those looking to celebrate, and I start taking notes on each individual performance.
First up, is Wicked's Defying Gravity, which starts as a solo and turns into a group number. I think it was a choice that was unexpected, given that Footlights has never done Wicked to my knowledge. It also sits in the context of everyone having a flood of clips of Cynthia Erivo and Idina Menzel (and Jessica Vosk, if you share my for you page) singing this song. While I’m sure that was the point, the harmonies sit quite bottom heavy for a song that is known to have some of the most difficult high belts of all time. Given that I have heard this song upwards of a hundred times in the last month - I notice it.
Then, we are into the songs chronologically spanning the shows through the years. A few songs in, I stopped writing notes on every individual song. It struck me that Thank you, Ten was not a showcase of those that make up the Footlights alumnus as individuals providing individual performances - but a celebration of those who make the collective community, alive and thriving, after ten years. For the rest of the night, I opted to look at the performances as small parts of a collective piece that had it's own tone, purpose and pace.
The pace is consistent throughout the night. There are solos or small groups singing slower, more emotional songs, and then a full cast songs, typically more upbeat. There is a pattern in this, but I admittedly find it quite difficult to be taken on the same high-highs and low-lows repeatedly. By half way through the Second Act, I would be bopping along to the fun group numbers and not want the it to end because I knew I was about to be bought right back down again. Some mediation of this tonal difference could have helped my endurance.
This is, in part, because there are a mixture of songs I know, and ones I don’t. When an emotional number begins, typically a solo or duo, that is well sung and performed with commitment - I admittedly find it hard to connect with that particular rendition because I am lacking context. Even in musicals I have seen or am familiar with, often a song that is lesser known is chosen over the songs that are popular. These are often impactful only within the emotional ramp of the full length musical in which they sit. Even if I have seen the musical, it may have been several years since I last saw it so I can’t quite remember what part of the book it was in. I would have loved to have more information about where that song sat within the context of the musical.
There are some exceptions to this, like during the song from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, which I have never seen before. Cassandra Tse selected a song that suited her voice, sang it beautifully, and the song itself (The I Love You Song) was a self contained narrative that provided its own context.
The group numbers are the jewel of the show. I feel as though I don’t need to know the context, because it is trumped by how fun it is to see the choreography, the songs are often cheerful and self explanatory. For example, La Vie Boheme is a great choice both from that musical, and as a closer for the first Act. Most importantly, everyone is enjoying themselves and I want to get up there to strut the table, too.
After the show, I walk through the hall and see photos of the musicals over the years. It’s a nice touch. I see members of the cast of Thank You, Ten in still shots from the decade past. It is precisely what I am here to see: a celebration of what this company and these productions mean to those who make them and those who go to support it.
I could hear it in the cheers that erupted as a particular show pops up through the ever changing poster list, by the way people holler out for their friends by name, that this is a hub for community and that’s what this is really all about. A celebration of this thriving company, yes, but even more a celebration of the community that makes it, and I am grateful to have witnessed a glimpse of it.
On multiple occasions, I’ve had a non-theatre friend of mine complain that making friends after the age of 21 is difficult. When you move out of university and into work, it takes a lot longer to find an excuse to see someone outside of the mandated 40 hours that you see them. Outside of work, where do you even find new friends? In that time of waiting for an opportunity to make connections, it is easy to feel isolated and lonely. It’s especially true if you move a long way from your existing friends and family to chase that overseas experience that everyone is always talking about. It’s easy to spend time out of shared spaces, and at home by yourself on your phone.
Without fail, my response to that friend is “offer to move props for the local community theatre”. Even if that friend has no interest in theatre, it is the one place where real-life communities continue to blossom in an otherwise digital era. There, you will find an excuse similar to “let’s study” in “I can help you run lines” and new friends will come.
I think that projects like Thank You, Ten are truer to the craft and tradition of theatre than a $2 million dollar project with a full LCD screen projecting reflections of the modern world back at us in 4K. There is a place for that, sure, but I am less impressed by it and far less inspired than I am by community theatre. These people are not paid - better yet, they often pay - to give up hours of time for the joy of the art. They make magic out of razor thin budgets, and continue to just make it work, no matter what.
As I get older I become more cynical about the point of spending so much time outside of my working hours, when I’m tired, adding so much stress to my life for months when the payoff only lasts a week. Why do I do this?
When I saw Thank You, Ten I was reminded of why I took this up in the first place. I do theatre because I love it. I love the community. I love to be with my friends. How lucky am I to have something, outside of my work, that gives me a true sense of purpose?
Thank you, Ten is a celebration of Footlights - yes - but it is an expression of gratitude for ten years of a community that share a love of musical theatre. I enjoyed this show as an outsider for the look inside the meta in which this revue sits. Thank you, Footlights, for the reminder of what makes me lucky to make theatre.
*
Unfortunately, this show has now closed. Keep an eye on their website for future works at https://www.wellingtonfootlights.co.nz/