Stages are Cages

and jail breaks still thrill

Stages are cages.

Prosceniums definitely, but really any stage that gives the impression of being a box with clear limits front to back, side to side, up to down. A stationary chorus member upstage left, is remarkably similar to a languishing lion at a zoo. A slow-moving actor covered in many many clothes still gives off that threat of a pacing tiger with undulating shoulder muscles.

All of us zoo visitors call to mind stories of wild cats that burst out of their enclosures as we make eye contact with a lion under a tree. Both the lion and I know that she is just pretending that barrier is enough to keep me whole and her in her place.

That’s why I am worried while sitting in the theater. Not active worry. Just low-grade nervousness that manifests as excitement. All of that potential energy of young and/or aerobically gifted performers bouncing off of the walls. Are they going to stop pretending those walls exist? Clearly, the director told everyone to sing to the person in the back row…