CLOSING NIGHT
There is always a bittersweet quality to a closing night. On one hand, it closes a cycle and allows you to be free for what lies ahead. But on the other hand, something you’ve poured your heart and soul into might never see the light of day again. But the beauty of live performance lies in this essence: being ephemeral. After 12 weeks of performances, The Hope Theory closed at the Geffen Playhouse. Every time I went on stage, I gave it all, and I know I will miss going up again and performing this show. I will keep the memories each audience gave me and take them with me to guide my next project.
I want to publicly thank all the creative team and staff who were part of this adventure. Theater is a collective endeavor, and without the effort of many people, this show could never have been brought to life. Between long hours on Zoom, four weeks of time in the rehearsal room, a week of tech, and a run of 80 sold-out performances, this project was a year-long endeavor that I will remember fondly. Thanks to the Geffen Playhouse for again believing what I had to say and allowing me to break the fourth wall for Spanish language performances at the theater, making history.
There are two people that I have to thank deeply, on top of all that was said above. These two generous souls meticulously woke up every day at 7 am to spend two hours on Zoom with me and guide me in the right direction to tell the story I wanted to tell. True, we had a lot of fun doing it, but they still went above and beyond anything they were required to do in the production. Thank you, Amy Levinson and Frank Marshall, for dialogue with the voices in my head and extracting the best of me for the pages I wrote. On that note, I’d like to tell a small story about this particular process.
When writing, I tend to jump into action with an idea in mind. But not everything I write is necessarily of my liking. Sometimes, I have to write to get something out of me, and then, through rewriting or editing, I get to what I want to say. But, especially with my shows, there are moments when I need to be inspired to write. Otherwise, I knew the result would not be what I needed. Although most of the story was already written and edited in this project, the ending came to me only closer to us starting rehearsals. Amy and Frank kept pushing me to deliver it as they should, but every time I sat down to write, I felt “I am not in the right mood for this.” We finally set a deadline, and I was supposed to deliver it in one of our morning Zoom meetings.
The day before, I spent all day writing, erasing, and rewriting, but I knew I was not in the right mood. There was a deadline, and I was trying to respect it, but something was off. Still, I wanted to show them something, and I would do my best. After a long day only working on this section of the script, I was completely tired and went to bed around 10 pm. I woke around 3 am feeling “I am in the mood.” I jumped in front of my computer, erased all the work I had done during the day, and started writing all I believed to be how the ideas presented in the show would come together at the end. I finished around 6:20 am, just in time to shower quickly, take my morning espresso, and start the Zoom meeting. Once I shared them with Amy and Frank, we all felt those words were the heart of the show.
I don’t know where inspiration comes from, but it exists and will find you when you spend enough time on a creative problem. Every night, when I said those words that carry a universal weight, their impact on many people at the show was visible. Maybe I should just write when I am in the mood. Or do I need to wake up more times at 3 am? Or I can set more deadlines to deliver results. No matter the magical combination, there is always a moment when things click if you keep searching for an answer. If that answer gets you while you work or sleep, you can’t control it. The only thing you can do is keep searching for it. Even in your dreams.