From tech nights to post-show dance parties, Neena Arndt reports on the Goodman Theatre’s latest audience engagement efforts.
Last spring, I sat in the darkened mezzanine of the Goodman’s Owen Theatre while a tech rehearsal played out below me. The team was working out a run-of-the-mill scene transition, figuring out which actor was going to put the dishes in the sink, how fast a costume change could be made, and how much music would need to be played while the transition took place. I’ve been a dramaturg at the Goodman for eight seasons, and have worked in professional theatre for thirteen years, so to me this tech rehearsal of Rebecca Gilman’s Soups, Stews and Casseroles: 1976—in its second production, after its 2014 world premiere at the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis—seemed quotidian (even potentially tedious!). But seated with me was a group of about twenty-five patrons who had signed up for a special behind-the-scenes event, and they sat rapt, immersed for the first time in a type of process they’d never witnessed but had perhaps always wondered about. That evening, they’d listened to me talk about the play, and then heard Tyler Jacobson, a member of our production staff, explain the purpose of tech rehearsals. Then, after warning them to be as quiet as possible, we’d slipped them into the mezzanine to watch. Robert Falls, the Goodman’s artistic director and the director of this production, glanced up briefly but didn’t acknowledge the group; he knew they were coming but we’d agreed that they should be flies on the wall rather than active participants. Nonetheless, I could feel a shift in the room as the observer effect—in physics, the effect of the act of observation on the phenomenon being observed—took hold. Everyone knew they were being watched... Keep reading on HowlRound
Last spring, I sat in the darkened mezzanine of the Goodman’s Owen Theatre while a tech rehearsal played out below me. The team was working out a run-of-the-mill scene transition, figuring out which actor was going to put the dishes in the sink, how fast a costume change could be made, and how much music would need to be played while the transition took place. I’ve been a dramaturg at the Goodman for eight seasons, and have worked in professional theatre for thirteen years, so to me this tech rehearsal of Rebecca Gilman’s Soups, Stews and Casseroles: 1976—in its second production, after its 2014 world premiere at the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis—seemed quotidian (even potentially tedious!). But seated with me was a group of about twenty-five patrons who had signed up for a special behind-the-scenes event, and they sat rapt, immersed for the first time in a type of process they’d never witnessed but had perhaps always wondered about. That evening, they’d listened to me talk about the play, and then heard Tyler Jacobson, a member of our production staff, explain the purpose of tech rehearsals. Then, after warning them to be as quiet as possible, we’d slipped them into the mezzanine to watch. Robert Falls, the Goodman’s artistic director and the director of this production, glanced up briefly but didn’t acknowledge the group; he knew they were coming but we’d agreed that they should be flies on the wall rather than active participants. Nonetheless, I could feel a shift in the room as the observer effect—in physics, the effect of the act of observation on the phenomenon being observed—took hold. Everyone knew they were being watched... Keep reading on HowlRound