Setting the Stage

As theatre-goers, even in the so-called center of the world that we know as New York City, we look forward to the escapist feeling of being in a bubble, unaware of, or, more likely, pleasantly ignoring the world around us. Characters in shows live in faraway times and places, sing, and dance their way through life, speak prepared dialogue, and—even if something bad happens—in the end, discover that it is all just pretend. In fact, that is why the theatre often survives even amid the direst of circumstances. When reality gets too real, people want to get away. Either they want to feel the happiness of a life that is better than their own or marvel at the problems of others. In turn, they feel more secure in their own circumstances.

But when it comes to realities, none have hit theatre harder than the economic crisis. Yes, theatre is used to escape reality, but sometimes reality—in this case, money—gets the upper hand. A walk down Broadway is a walk through a graveyard of short-lived productions, of dimmed neon lights and covered windows. A walk up Broadway, to Columbia University, reveals a similar state of theatre, albeit one that is less apparent.

I am assistant-producing my first show at Columbia this semester through the Columbia Musical Theatre Society, and it has really been an amazing experience. There are so many talented people at this school who are dedicated to their work, and who, unlike many, are unashamed to be involved on campus. With all of the craziness of the typical Columbia student’s schedule, I am pleased and impressed with the people I find so dedicated to a student-run production. The talent is professional quality, the production team is professional quality, the vision is professional quality, but the budget and the resources cannot be held to those standards. The “act poor, be rich” motto cannot hold true when the money is just not there.

As far as my knowledge goes—this is my first year at Columbia University—Columbia has been very generous in the past about giving money to student productions, and, understandably, the students have not hesitated to take the offers. Productions on this campus were not usually limited by resources—aside from the high demand for space and the impractical set-up of both Roone and the Lerner Black Box—but times, as we all know, have changed. We do not have the budget that we expected to have last year, or even last semester. In fact, we came back from winter break to find some big budget cuts on our production that we had not expected at all. The bubble was burst—theatre and the real world collided. We were forced to take a look at our expenses and cut anything that we deemed at all superfluous. This included the microphones we had intended on renting, and we trimmed down our set and costume budgets as much as we could handle. We were left with very little wiggle room.

What I’ve realized is something that the producer in me is incredibly weary of: we’re better off without the money. The cliché remains. Less is, in fact, more. The few sets and costumes that we are going to have will be impeccable because we won’t be overreaching our capabilities. There will not be sloppy microphone enhancement in a space that was never meant for microphones in the first place. The show will not be too big for the small Lerner Black Box. Most importantly, the production will not be extravagance in a time of prudence—it will be appropriate for and reflective of our time. We will be poor, but still look good. Theatre is a form of entertainment that always survives during hard times because it provides an escape. That escape, however, should not be a blatant insult to reality. It is important that we enter a new mental state, as a part of Columbia’s theatre community. We need to be innovative with the resources that we have.