Many plays and musicals you attend. Others attend you. I didn’t know which category Every Brilliant Thing would fall into, not until Daniel Radcliffe was standing in the row directly in front of me, twenty minutes before the curtain went up.
E-tickets secured … in line along the sidewalk on Broadway… anticipating the opening of the doors… months of anticipation about to transition to reality. It’s a midday matinee and then… the doors open and we pass under the marquee for Every Brilliant Thing, a show I’ve heard quite a bit about. We move with anticipation up the stairs waiting to see how well we can see the expressions on the face of Daniel Radcliffe as he delivers his performance. We step into our row of seats and… right below us we see him mingling among the crowd seated on stage. It was still 20 minutes before the show would begin. And then, having redirected my focus to the playbill for a few minutes, I look up and standing in the row in front of me, speaking to two young ladies seated in front of us is … Daniel Radcliffe.
I went with a knowledge that this performance was a more intimate and interactive experience than a traditional production, which had me especially curious. I anxiously attended without too many expectations, just looking forward to seeing how it all came together and what kind of impression it would leave. I knew it would be a “solo performance” and involve a list of “things” I may recognize as “brilliant”.
And now, having seen the performance, I can say that it was… phenomenal. What stood out to me most was Daniel Radcliffe’s interaction with the crowd, before the play began. From the time we arrived and found our seat, Daniel was moving through the crowd engaging them with how they would interact with the production. His interaction seemed both as a mentor for this very play, and someone who genuinely desired this production, the one this day, to be the best experience you had ever had.
It’s always interesting to walk into a show with one idea of what it might be and leave with something entirely different, and this one certainly gave me plenty to think about. The emotional movement between the excitement of childhood. Ice cream before dinner. Water fights in the backyard. Seven items… small rebellions, small joys, the kind that feel enormous when you’re seven years old. And then, a dog at the vet. The list didn’t slow down. Neither did the grief. But there, tucked away in those opening moments was all that fun we have as a child that somehow deep down in the middle of that joy, we know our parents may not exactly approve. But joy is also often interrupted by life and suddenly an illness or the painful experience of losing something you love deeply comes crashing through the door. A parent becoming ill, a parent being distant when you ask a question, or a laugh that comes at you like a gut punch. Why was I reminded of, “death by a thousand cuts”? Was I seeing how even the smallest of joys and the sudden arrivals of emotional pain over a lifetime, when unresolved, may be the very door through which depression may creep through? And to have your attention pulled all around the theatre as the audience was naming “things” on the list and feeling like a collective reflection on everyone’s life in that theater that day, served as a small flashlight into my own past.
I found myself being drawn into a real time moment of reflection, recognizing my own roller coasters of emotions throughout my life. The list that Daniel navigates with the crowd can mirror so many of our own life experiences that it… well you find yourself drawing closer to Daniel even from a balcony seat. It becomes a realization that ecstatic moments of joy in childhood can quickly be nudged aside by the least expected oncoming experience, and this happens all throughout our lives. But what Daniel softly performed that day was a slow appearance of depression growing out of life’s emotional waves. And as I came to recognize that happening, it caused me to reflect on who in my life may be slowly fading into depression and I not being aware and am I ready to be available to help like … a Mrs. Patterson we the audience were introduced to?
As I stood for the final ovation… gathered my belongings… and walked back out onto the streets of NYC, Every Brilliant Thing had confirmed something in me. Live theatrical performances have an emotional weight that can be delivered that the distance between the silver screen and Hollywood cannot overcome. Stepping back out into the sunlight, onto a busy street, and the cacophony of sound that broke our moments of reflection, thrusting me back into my … reality. We chose to quickly navigate our way to a nearby gelato shop, grab some gelato and let this performance settle into new memories … meaningful memories. Even allowing ourselves to walk along the busy sidewalk with slightly more joy in our hearts and a smile for all who we would interact with through the remainder of this day and days to come. If Daniel could make a playwright’s work seem that personal on stage, how deep could I allow this performance to anchor in my life? The gelato was cold. The sidewalk was loud. And somehow, both felt exactly right.
We may not always be able to travel to places like Broadway, but we may be surprised how well a live theatrical performance in our own hometown may impact us… And to attend with a family member or friend invites a post-attendance discussion, maybe even over a cup of coffee. Try to find one and judge the experience yourself.
The Curious Table 