When they hug in the rain in “The Notebook.” When they fight in the rain in “The Outsiders.” When the fourth sibling finally arrives in “The Hills of California.” When the fourth sibling finally arrives in “Cult of Love.” The fireflies in “Maybe Happy Ending.” The dead body in “Dead Outlaw.”
These were among the memorable moments on stage for me this year, as well as ten more below. As usual, a moment that becomes memorable could be a visual spectacle or a verbal tickle or an emotional punch — the magical outcome of clever stagecraft or of the actor’s consummate art. These are briefer than an entire scene or song, and they didn’t just occur in shows that I adored, but they somehow made the whole show better. Some of these moments were captured in photographs (although rarely the precise moment — often because the production wants to spring them on the audience as a surprise) and some I wrote about in my reviews, which I excerpt below.
In “ Water for Elephants,” the star attraction of the circus, a horse named Silver Star, has fractured a leg bone, and Jacob the vet realizes he has to take the animal down. As Marlena sings “Easy,” Jacob reaches for August’s gun. And what’s memorable – sublime – about this moment is the way the horse is portrayed — partly by puppetry, partly by a silk ribbon, and consummately by an extraordinary aerialist named Antoine Boissereau, who performs a ballet in mid-air, swirling and twirling with the silk. It’s not just technically impressive; not just beautiful; it’s, somehow, deeply moving.
There is another memorable moment involving puppetry in this musical, or perhaps a series of moments – the creation of Rosie the elephant – teasing us for much of the first act, with first a shadow puppet, then just a trunk held by a lone puppeteer, then four mammoth legs, and finally the full beast, mammoth of body with its long-lashed eyes blinking coquettishly.
In the balcony scene from “Romeo + Juliet,” Juliet is not on a balcony, but on a bed that has descended from the rafters, but is still hanging way up in the air. Romeo makes several attempts to climb up, at one point borrowing a chair to stand on, but he still can’t reach her. Is it a spoiler to tell you that with a tremendous thrust, he finally makes it, setting off the loudest and most sustained cheering of the night.
When the ship sinks in Swept Away – it actually sort of…flips over – but spectacularly, accompanied by bright lights and loud sounds, and magically a life boat appears in front of it
Immediately after the intermission of “Sunset Blvd,” Tom Francis as Joe Gillis, the failed screenwriter and kept man takes us outside the theater, and walks on the street past the marquees of Broadway as he sings the title song, decrying the decadence of Hollywood, a clever wink of comparison. We are watching this on a screen on the stage; Francis himself is actually at this moment actually out on the street, live, the camera accompanying him, having shown him making his way from his dressing room through the labyrinthine backstage area, greeting individual cast members, including one in a chimp costume.
In the midst of “For the Gaze”, from Death Becomes Her, the over-the-top number from the fake musical “Me Me Me,” Megan Hilty as Madeline Ashton abruptly turns from a glamorously bedecked diva into Dorothy of Kansas, complete with pigtails, thanks to costume designer Paul Tazewell – a campy homage (as the song title implies) for the gays.
“True Love Forever,” an interpretive dance/rock concert/ interactive immersive theater piece that had a brief run this year and will return in 2025, invites audience members to explore our personal experiences with love. At one point, one of the seven performers in the troupe instructed the audience: “If you’ve ever been ghosted, stand up and line up to the right.” And then, after about a half dozen stood: “If you’ve ever ghosted someone, stand up and line up to the left,” About an equal number (braver?) stood to the left. Then another cast member brought flowers to those who ghosted, and instructed them to bring the flowers to those who were ghosted, and apologize.
In “Gypsy,” after Audra McDonald as Rose is told that her youngest daughter has run away, Rose turns her attention to her older daughter and tells her “I’m going to make you a star,” launching into “Everything’s Coming Up Roses.” But rather than the false bravado of so many Roses I’ve seen, this Rose is all defiance, tinged with desperation The moment that’s a particular knockout is when, as she’s singing, she rips up June’s letter and thrusts the little pieces in the air.
Seeing “Gypsy” recently jolted my memory of Jordan Tyson and Joy Woods, as the same character (Allie) at different ages, simultaneously singing “If This Is Love” in The Notebook earlier this year — because the two actresses are now cast as Rose’s two daughters in “Gypsy.”
In “Life and Trust,” an immersive, site-specific, theater that riffs on the Faust myth and takes place on six floors of an old bank building, theatergoers are pretty much on their own to make sense of what’s going on – by exploring one of the many rooms, or following one of the many performers (who rarely speak, mostly just dance.) But every so often…
I had been following a dancer portraying a character I later learned was Harold, Captain of the Vice Squad at the American Protective Agency. As he went from room to room, he had shed pieces of his uniform, and until he was bare-chested when he suddenly stopped, turned around, and stared right into my (masked) face. He just stood there silently staring at me for the longest time, ignoring the other masked attendants. Then he opened the door behind him, beckoned me inside, leaving the others behind….and shut me in alone with him in the dark!
It was the sort of personal encounter that immersive theatergoers live for – a memorable moment for sure.
