The Daily - Bringing the Theater Back to Life

Episode Date: September 4, 2020

Three months into Broadway’s shutdown because of the coronavirus pandemic, Michael Paulson, a theater reporter for The New York Times, got a call from a theater in western Massachusetts — they planned to put on “Godspell,” a well-loved and much-performed musical from 1971, in the summer.Today, we explore how, in the face of huge complications and potentially crushing risks, a regional production attempted to bring theater back to life.Guest: Michael Paulson, a theater reporter for The Times. For more information on today’s episode, visit nytimes.com/thedaily Background reading: Masks, partitions and a contactless crucifixion — the Berkshire Theater Group’s production of Godspell, labeled one of the “huggiest musicals ever created,” is also a kind of public health experiment.

From The New York Times, I'm Michael Barbaro. This is The Daily. Today. When the pandemic struck, the multi-billion dollar theater industry went dark, shutting down shows mid-production and preventing new shows from ever opening. and preventing new shows from ever opening. But this summer, a small group of actors tried to bring the theater back to life. My colleague, Michael Paulson, tracked their journey.

It's Friday, September 4th. So before the pandemic, I was seeing theater five or six times a week. My whole life revolved around Times Square and the theater district. And of course, that came abruptly to a halt in early March. And the lights have dimmed on New York's famed Broadway. Broadway theaters today extended their shutdown. Shows will now remain dark. And then about three months into the Broadway shutdown, I get a call from this theater in western Massachusetts telling me they have some news.

They have a plan. They're going to put on a show that summer in the Berkshires. When you feel sad And it's going to be Godspell. Or under a curse Your life is bad Your prospects are worse Curse, your life is bad.

Your prospects are worse. It is a show from 1971. It's about Jesus. And it depicts Jesus with a group of followers trying to instruct them in moral behavior by telling them parables. And for five decades, this show has been done over and over and over again. Day by day by day. There have been 10,000 productions just over the last 20 years.

It's been set in prisons and in homeless shelters and in refugee camps. People love it. By day, by day, by day. So, of course, I was kind of excited, but I was also kind of disbelieving. Like, wow, they're really going to do this and they're going to pull this off? This is a really complicated time for theater making because everything about theater seems risky. A large number of people in the cast of Moulin Rouge got the virus. A number of producers and theater owners got the virus. And probably most devastating for the Broadway community was the saga of Nick Cordero.

Please welcome Tony nominee, Nick Cordero and his gangsters. A really well-liked guy, young, seemingly fit and healthy, had gotten married relatively recently and had a new baby, just relocated to L.A. and started feeling sick and was diagnosed with the virus, spent months in the hospital, and ultimately he died. So the big union, Actors' Equity, that represents 51,000 professional actors and stage managers across the country has forbidden its members from auditioning,

rehearsing, or performing in person. And every actor I know is unemployed. Unemployment is almost total in the theater world. There is no work. And that means not only no income, but it really threatens everyone's access to health care because actors earn health insurance by working and they're not working. And so it's a devastating time for a group of people who already many of them live on the edge. And so a couple months into the pandemic, here comes this theater in western Massachusetts that wants to do Godspell. This is a region of the country that has a very low coronavirus caseload. Godspell only has 10 actors and doesn't involve any romantic entanglements or hand-to-hand combat. And the theater, the Berkshire Theater Group,

is willing to do almost anything that Equity wants to get this show going. So based on all of that, the union agrees. This is the only musical with union actors taking place in the United States of America this summer. And everyone in the theater world is watching, some with horror, some with excitement, some with dread. The stakes are enormous because if this works, it might be a model for continuing to do some

theater in some parts of the country and in other parts of the world. And if it doesn't work, it's going to send a terrible signal about the ability of the theater world to limit risk. Okay, so just in case we use audio, just tell me your name

and what you're doing in this show. My name is Nicholas Edwards, and I play Jesus. So I get to the Berkshires in late July, and I start to meet everyone. There's 12 actors, 10 of them on stage, plus the two understudies. And you're a college student? Yes, I'm going to be a senior this upcoming fall. They range in age from 20 to 34. I played Elphaba in Wicked for two and a half years on Broadway.

A few of them have Broadway experience, most of them do not. So I just felt that this would be one of the craziest, wildest experiences I could be a part of, especially right now. So they're all gonna live together in a house. They're forming a kind of quarantine bubble. They're gonna be tested three times a week for the virus. They're not gonna go to the gym.

They're not gonna socialize. They're not gonna date. They're not going to go to the gym. They're not going to socialize. They're not going to date. They're not going to party. They're going to stay together. And their two priorities are to make a great show and not to get sick. It's Sunday afternoon in the Berkshires, and the cast is outside in a tent running through the song We Beseech Thee. So as the rehearsals got underway, there are people all over the place with Clorox wipes and hand sanitizer. There are these rules about how many people can be in the bathroom at one time, and they get personal bins of, like,

pencils and towels and scripts that are going to be sanitized every night. They're spaced out about 10 feet apart from each other. And then there are all the performance rules. The stage is going to be carved up into these 10 areas that they call home bases. There's going to be no physical contact between actors. And not only that, but they're not going to even pass props from one to another. Only one person can touch a prop. So right now they're relying on distance to keep them safe. Yeah,

it's so weird. You know, actors are used to kind of being really close to one another and reading one another and talking toward one another, singing toward one another. And Godspell is a show that is kind of about building community. And often that involves things like hugging. And so suddenly they're in these boxes and it's absolutely strange, but it's going. They're getting it down. And then they hit a roadblock. And then they hit a roadblock. The stage manager one morning is watching the rehearsal and he doesn't love what he's seeing. People are too close to each other and they might be singing at each other.

So he goes over to talk to the director and the director is upset. They only have two weeks of rehearsal, they're halfway in, and he feels like he doesn't yet know the rules under which they have to operate. So he stops the rehearsal. And then Nick Edwards, the actor who's playing Jesus, he feels like he can't wait for all these people in the Berkshires to debate about what is and what is not permissible. And instead, he dials New York. He calls the union and he says,

we need some rules, we need some guidance, we need some definitive decision. And the news, although clarifying, is not great. They're going to have to restage most of the numbers that they've already learned. They're going to have to use masks more often. They're going to have to stand behind screens more often. They're going to have to rethink a lot of the blocking in a way that's going to mean re-rehearsing much of the first half of the show.

Do you need a chair? No. I'm trying to stay out of the way. There are chairs in there. So later that night, the actors all got together on the porch of this house that they're sharing. We all signed a contract. Yeah contract not knowing what the safety precautions were going to be. We all figured social distancing and mass doing the right thing

and we thought that we'd get to do a show on stage. Maybe we won't be touching socially distant and it's just gotten so far that it's I'm getting so stressed, so frustrated. There's some frustration and some second-guessing. I don't understand this whole floor thing.

I'm like, it's dirtier than the platform. Why is it okay for us to sit on the floor but not to sit on a chair where others have sat? There was an article about a woman who was 20 years old who had to get a lung transplant for it. And people are like, this could literally happen to anyone. And then somebody points out that people are getting sick all over the country and people are dying. I think shying away from Corona is a huge mistake.

Like doing the show with less masks and less like trying to pretend like this isn't happening, I think is a bad idea. And if they get this right. like this isn't happening, I think is a bad idea. And if they get this right... This is literally a new form of theater that has never happened before. They might be demonstrating a model of how performance can happen. They might be helping people get jobs.

They might be saving theater. Actually, I was just talking to my friend about this whole thing, and she was like, you don't realize that, like, this is going to go down in, like, history books, and, was like you don't realize that like this is gonna go down in like history books and like you need to document this and like you might be the only show that happens during this time. I was like wow I guess when you put it that way. We should start video blogging, do diaries and shit.

And that's how the conversation ends. I go back to where I'm staying, and they go back to running lines. We'll be right back. Hi, do you have your tickets? Yeah, if you could pull those up and then zoom in on the barcode, that would be great. So finally, rehearsals are over and performances begin. And then hold it up to the window. The show's in demand and it's been sold out. Perfect.

When the audience arrives, they have to have their temperature taken. Good afternoon, everyone. People were super excited to be seeing theater again. It's so great seeing people gathered here together to watch this amazing performance. You could feel some kind of, are we really doing this energy? Like looking around, adjusting the mask, making sure your seat feels far enough from everybody else. And now without further ado, I invite you to sit back, relax, have fun, and please join me in welcoming to the stage the cast of Godspell.

Hi, my name is Nicholas, Nick. In March of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic took away everything I worked my whole life for. The original production of Godspell opens with this scene called the Tower of Babel in which a bunch of philosophers are arguing about different ideas. I'm Mike Gortella. Five months ago, I lost my job and my social life and my means for keeping myself emotionally balanced and stable. And this production cuts that and instead opens with each of these actors talking in the first person about their own experiences at the start of the pandemic.

Since March of this year, I have felt helpless, alone, treated as if I am the cause of this pandemic just because I'm Asian. I've also struggled with an addiction for a bunch of years, and this stuff has really kicked up all the old feelings. I was six weeks out from ending the first national tour of Aladdin. A dream job. And then there's, like, this transition. And then the shofar sounds and you realize,

oh yeah, I'm going to see God's spell. Prepare ye the way of the Lord. And yeah, they're putting on and taking off masks and they're occasionally ducking behind screens. And you can't help but notice that they're staying apart from each other. Now I baptize you with water for repentance sake. Right at the beginning, there's this scene of baptism where John the Baptist is baptizing everyone and it's mimed. You know, he's not touching them.

He's not putting water on them. It's an actor holding a sponge in the air, pretending that water is coming out of it, and people far away from him are pretending that water is falling on them. When will thou save the people? O God of mercy, when? And, you know, you can feel the audience starting to relax,

starting to enjoy this, starting to engage with it. There's this vaudeville number in the show that Jesus and Judas perform together. And normally it's done with top hats and canes, but instead of canes in this production, they use yardsticks so that they can pretend to measure the six feet apart from each other. You try putting on skinny jeans after a COVID diet. Oh my gosh. And, you know, they go through a kind of elaborate pandemic pantomime where Jesus puts on gloves and makes the gestures of putting sanitizer on his hands. And Judas does something similar.

It's a comedic number, but also a reminder of the kind of strange practices that we've all so quickly embraced in an effort to keep ourselves and each other safe. effort to keep ourselves and each other safe. I remember this one song in particular. It's this ballad that Nick sings, and it's called Beautiful City. And it's, you know, this moving song about attempts to rebuild after a crisis. We can build a beautiful city. Yes, we can. Yes, we can.

And it felt especially moving for me because during rehearsals, Nick, the actor playing Jesus, had really struggled to get through it. He's like at center stage and he's halfway through the song and it starts to be about loss of faith. And he chokes up. He can't finish. and he chokes up. He can't finish. He sits down and he buries his head in his shirt and they have to stop the rehearsal and the director says,

you know, if this was any time but this, we would come over and hug you, but we can't. And the other actors send him air hugs. And he stumbles through it. When your trust is all but shattered When your faith is all but killed You can give up And the next few times I heard him do the song in rehearsal,

he's still like, you could feel like at that moment his voice would catch and he would have to work harder to get to the end. A beautiful city would catch and he would have to work harder to get to the end. A beautiful city, not a city of angels, but finally... And so not only is the song moving, but knowing like how much it means to him, how much he himself had felt discouraged and afraid and hopeful and brave and alive. A city of mad

Yeah, I get lost in a way that when theater works, you want to get lost. So, I tell you this. One of you among us will betray me. You know, the show ends with this kind of mix of emotions. Jesus has been crucified. Oh, God, I'm dead. Oh God, I'm dead.

But then there's this medley of songs as the community comes back together. And also as the musical is trying to send people back into the streets not feeling depressed. I'm the Lord. The crowd absolutely gives a standing ovation. There's like this enthusiasm, like, wow, they really did this. And wow, they were good. And wow, I really did this. I came back to a show and I live to tell about it. So where are we now?

We're still so far from Broadway restarting, from the kind of theater that so many of us used to see, where we sat cheek by jowl with other people in these old buildings. What we have is a small production of a 50-year-old musical under a tent in a rural corner of western Massachusetts. It's not a sustainable path forward for theater in America. It's not what we had before the pandemic, and it's not what we hope to have.

But I think it's meaningful. It's a group of actors. It's a theater showing a way to make art, to see art for now. And it's succeeding. The show has been selling out. It's extended. So far, the actors have been safe, and the audiences

have been safe. The union has even decided to allow a few more shows to go forward. They're all small. They're all in rural New England. But this time, they're going to be indoors. And for me, a guy who used to go see Broadway shows

multiple nights a week, I'm now contemplating the possibility of renting another car and driving to the White Mountains of New Hampshire so that next month I can see another experiment in making theater during a pandemic. We'll be right back. Here's what else you need to know today.

On Thursday night, the city of Rochester, New York, suspended seven police officers involved in the suffocation of a Black man in their custody, Daniel Prude. You killed a defenseless Black man, a father's son, a brother's brother, a nephew's uncle. I mean, come on. Prude's family has expressed outrage over the case, much of which was captured in a video showing officers placing a hood over Prude's head

and pressing his face into the pavement for two minutes. I mean, come on. How many more brothers got to die for society to understand that this needs to stop? Before he was detained, Prude, who had been suffering from mental health problems, ran out of his brother's house in an erratic state, wearing no clothes,

saying that he had the coronavirus and spitting. Police who encountered him apparently placed the hood over his head to prevent Prude from spitting at them. And the Times reports that the Trump administration plans to bring an antitrust case against Google as soon as this month, capping a high-profile investigation into whether the tech giant has abused its dominance over online search. The decision appears to be controversial within the Department of Justice. Most lawyers working on the case say that the charges are being rushed, but those lawyers have been overruled by the Attorney General, Bill Barr. The Daily is made by Theo Balcom, Andy Mills, Lisa Tobin, Rachel Quester, Lindsay Garrison, Thank you. Lisa Chow, Eric Krupke, Mark George, Luke Vanderplug, Kelly Prime, Julia Longoria,

Sindhu Yanasambandhan, MJ Davis-Lynn, Austin Mitchell, Nina Patuk, Dan Powell, Dave Shaw, Sydney Harper, Daniel Guimet, Hans Butow, Robert Jimison, Mike Benoit, Bianca Gaver, Robert Jimison, Mike Benoit, Bianca Gaver, Aastha Chaturvedi, Rochelle Banja, and Liz O'Balin. Our theme music is by Jim Brunberg and Ben Landsberg of Wonderly. Special thanks to Sam Dolmec, Michaela Bouchard, Lauren Jackson, Julia Simon, Nora Keller, Mahima Chablani, and Des Ibequa. That's it for The Daily. I'm Michael Barbaro. See you on Tuesday after the holiday.