Last weekend my school closed the high school premiere of “The Island of Dr. Moreau” by HG Wells, and adapted for the stage by Tira Palmquist. The summary can be found here.
When I first heard we would be doing this show over a year ago, I was skeptical. Half beast, half human creatures weren’t really my cup of tea. Don’t get my wrong, I do enjoy a good sci-fi story, but this one just didn’t hit home with me. I had put it out of my mind until the first rehearsals had started. I sat in on one, expecting it to drag on and be another cheesy monster tale. But boy was I wrong.
Even though it was only a rehearsal, with no set, no lighting, and not even complete blocking, I was amazed. There was something about the story and the way it was being portrayed that kept drawing you in, yet made you feel uneasy and on the edge of your seat. That was a feeling that I had never felt before, and I loved it. The story is frightening, but in an odd way, has a humane and sentimental feeling to it. I think it was those polar opposite ideas that made this show so appealing to me.
Even as rehearsal was going, my mind was flooded with ideas for how I would light this show. I started sketching and planning my looks even before rehearsal completely finished. After rehearsal, I went home and stayed up all night sketching, doodling, brainstorming ideas, and plotting the rig. I can’t remember another show that had ever gotten me this excited. Other shows had definitely excited me, but not on this level.
Fast forward through the production meetings, hang, focus, tech week, and the first two performances. That brings us to closing night. The final show still had that same amazing feeling brought to the stage by the phenomenal cast led by two irreplaceable directors. The energy was on the same level, if not higher, than that spectacular rehearsal that I had watched a few weeks back. Even though I had seen the full show multiple times, I still got the same chills and feelings as I did when I watched my first rehearsal. After the curtain call had ended and I was bringing up the house lights, something stuck me. That show epitomized why I do technical theater and why I love it so much. It’s that feeling of satisfaction that stays with you, even after the strike, knowing that you were a part of something much bigger and greater than yourself. Something that will go down in my own personal history, and In my view, the history of our school’s performing arts program.
So now it’s a week later. I’ve come off my show-week high and have entered the post-show depression phase. The set is gone, the lights have been removed, the stage repainted, and props put back in there place. Techs and actors alike have moved on to the current show, and possibly planning the future shows. The persona of Moreau seems to have fled to someplace just out of reach. But don’t let that get you down. To the cast and crew of “The Island of Dr. Moreau”:
Remember what we did and what we accomplished. Remember the wonderful experience we went through and what lessons we all have learned because of it. We closed a show that will live in infamy, as far as I’m concerned, forever. Together as a whole, we made something that I, and hopefully you, won’t EVER forget. For me at least, this will always be the memory that reminds me of why I do what I do.
I thank all of the cast and crew for giving me an experience of a lifetime. And one that I will treasure forever.
I guess there’s only one last thing to say…ARE WE NOT MEN?
P.S. Who’s ready to do it all again at States?
