When did you first see a theatrical performance? How old were you? Who were you with? Do you go now? Do you ask your children which character they liked best, as your parents asked you?
My first memory of classical theatre is of William Hutt. I watched him in Shakespearian productions year in and year out at the Stratford Festival. I wanted to be like him.
My opinion was cemented that he was an acting god years later, in a production of All’s Well That Ends Well, when he played the king. The king was dying, and a strange woman, the protagonist, ends up nursing him to health, a sort of miracle. When he returns to his throne and courtroom, healthy again, I remember Hutt coming around the throne, with slow dignity but a merry sort of bounce, and then suddenly he did a tiny click of the heels before immediately resuming his giddily somber reappearance onstage. I loved it. I have been incredibly fortunate to have such an exposure to theatre from a young age. I am incredibly lucky to be able to still go.
It has always been my dream, my deep desire, to share my love of this art form with as many people as possible. When running community theatre groups, I got an incredible joy from seeing new participants glow with success, and learn from mistakes and terrifying impending opening nights, and, in the end, form friendships and self-confidence that would last a lifetime.
Acting in a troupe isn’t the only way to self-esteem, creativity, inspiration and community. Being an audience member is just as important and potent. The audience member is arguably the most important part of the artistic process.
Audiences are the life of theatre. There is no performance without an audience. When one is in an audience, magical things happen. They breathe together, think together, experience and share and feel, all at the same time in a fairly similar way. They are brought together for a brief period in time to form anonymous unity. Differences between people do not matter in the theatre. You have all mutually agreed to be silent for 2 hours, to put your attentions to the stage, and forget anyone else is there – despite the fact that audiences are “inter-affected” – each person’s reaction affects everyone else’s reaction. If you see a show more than once (or, as a director, many, many times), you spend more time observing the audiences than the actors, and it is an incredible social phenomenon.
This is what Intermission brings to its participants. They are invited to this magical world of a community that lasts only 2 hours (and sometimes a lifetime). The performance brings joy, sadness, shock, and most of all, as all art seeks to do, expresses aspects of humanity. The audience leaves full of ideas, new thoughts and inspirations and opinions, new motives to learn and express. The Intermission group meets a week later to discuss all of it. Here the community is solidified – they can share and opinionate with each other, learning to express their ideas, learning more about how others were affected, learning more about the art form. The sharing and the expressing that I keep emphasizing brings forth confidence, clarity and consciousness.
I would be most grateful and interested to hear comments or questions on our mission.
Welcome to Intermission’s production of its first season. I am the “artistic director”, Emily Hofstetter. Please, turn off all cell phones, pagers and noise making devices. If you’ve hidden any of those little candies, please unwrap the crackly things now. Most of all, please enjoy the show – the process of bringing Intermission to light, to charitable status, and to others.
Intermission Toronto 