STANDING O

How often have you faked it?
By Gregory Jacobs-Roseman (Composer-Lyricist) 

Last week Ryan shared with us his Musical Theatre Community Contract, which garnered a lot of buzz around the internets and on social media (or at least it did among the people with whom I am friends on Facebook and follow on Twitter). Still, there’s one point Ryan made in the contract that I have been trying to come to terms with over the past few years. The contract stipulates:

15. Furthermore if the audience collectively decides that standing in ovation is the only way to respond to the work onstage, yet I hated it, I will not remain seated while everyone else stands, because that's just fucked up.

Ah yes. The standing ovation, which once upon a time was reserved for the most thrilling of performances, has become standard operating procedure in the theatre. Every Broadway production I attend ends in one, even when it doesn’t merit it. I’m forced to ask myself: how did this happen? Does anyone remember what a real standing ovation feels like?

I’ll admit that I have stood during the curtain call of shows I didn’t think merited this once sacred practice, mainly because I didn’t want to be the one asshat in the audience sitting in defiance of the practice (and also so I could see the stage). Likewise, I’ve also sat when everyone else rose to their feet after a performance that I did indeed think deserved such acclaim, most recently at Once on Broadway (which was fabulous), as I was sitting in the front row of the mezzanine with my 80-year-old grandmother, whose hips don’t need the extra wear and tear.

Stephen Sondheim has gone on the record about standing ovations. Here’s a few of his quotes I was able to dig up with the Google machine:

“Every show now gets a standing ovation, but I think if you’re really moved, you don’t stand. They want to remind themselves that it’s an occasion–they’re applauding themselves.”

“Now it’s automatic; it doesn’t matter if you get on stage and read the telephone book. The audience is applauding themselves for having been there — they’ve spent a lot of money and a lot of time.”

“My idea of a standing ovation is being so moved that you just can’t move, that you sit there in silence. I remember once walking home with a friend after a show and not wanting to talk after what I had seen. It’s those 10 seconds of silence after a show, and then the cheering starting — that’s what you want to hear. Of course, it doesn’t happen very often. Certainly not in musicals.”

I happen to agree, but I wonder if it's more than just the fact that Broadway tickets are so expensive that the audience feels the need to somehow insert themselves into the show at the end, as if to say: “look! I’m here! I’m a part of this evening too!” Do they just think they're not getting their money’s worth if they’re not acknowledged for attending? Or have they never felt the thrill of a true standing ovation? One where the show was so damn good your body simply has to leap out of your seat afterwards, shouting “brava!” at the top of your lungs?

I was in a bad mood on March 1st, 2011, and was desperate for some cheering up. Some of my friends were going to see this new Broadway show that was in its first week of previews. My friend Alisha texted to invite me:

I stole the idea of a text screenshot from Tony's post yesterday. Can't decide if it's cool or creepy that the iPhone saves every text you've ever sent/received.

That’s right. The Book Of Motherfucking Mormon. At the time no one knew what the show was – we just knew it was from the South Park creators. 

We didn’t wind up winning the lottery, so instead we walked into the box office. Alisha purchased a mezzanine seat with a discount code from BroadwayBox. I, on the other hand really, really needed a laugh at that moment, so I figured “what the hell, I'm gonna get myself a gift.” I slapped down my Amex and said: “give me your best available for tonight.”
“2nd row orchestra center?” replied the man behind the glass.
“Perfect.”

If that sounds like fiction that's because this was back when you could actually DO that at Book of Mormon. At this point in previews (I think this was the 6th preview performance?) you could actually walk up to the box office and pay regular price for an orchestra seat at the performance that same night, no premium ticket required. Actually, come to think of it, it’s even more amazing that Alisha was able to get what I think was about a $40 ticket with the discount for that night’s performance about an hour or so before curtain. None of this would be possible, like, a week later. The day after seeing the show, my mother called asking what show she should take her staff to when they took a trip to New York for the pediatric dentist’s convention (or whatever the hell it's actually called) in May. I raved about Book of Mormon and she went ahead and bought something like 20 tickets. By the time May rolled around (and I got to see the show for a second time), I think you had to buy non-premium tickets to Mormon almost a year in advance.

As I took seat B 105 in the Eugene O’Neill theater (I still have the ticket stub – also, the seat next to me remained vacant – again, unheard of now that Book of Mormon is what it is) I was praying something fabulous was about to unfold on that stage, and praise be to Thespis himself, it did.

If you’ve seen the show, you know what I’m talking about. I won’t go into too much detail here except to say the show is really, really fucking good. It's so good that I'm able to overlook the near-rhymes in the lyrics, which is something I always find unforgiveable. At intermission Alisha and I texted each other:

Alisha: “Um. So this is amazing.”
Me: “Right?”
Alisha: “Yeah. Like whoa.”

The play was ending and I felt it – that stirring in my joints. My body was quivering from the sheer delight of what was drawing to a close on stage. Tears of joy were welling up in the corners of my eyes – the kind of tears I’m prone to when a show is just so, so good – when a show achieves a virtuosic mastery of the structure and form that is Musical Theatre. It makes me happy to be alive. It makes me remember why I love the theatre and what it is capable of. It makes me not care that I ended that last sentence in a preposition. It makes me feel like Felicity Huffman's character Dana in this classic scene from Sports Night (especially the second clip – I could only find this on YouTube in two parts):

And then the cast appeared for their bows. And upon the millisecond I saw them, with the full strength of every muscle in my body, I involuntarily leapt to my feet, slamming my hands together repeatedly and exclaiming: “YES!!!!” It was nothing short of orgasmic. A standing O, if you will. I would not, could not remain in my seat! How could anyone sit at a moment like that?! When something so honest, so beautiful, so exciting had just played out before my eyes, my body had to spring forth from the sheer inertia of it all. This was the opposite of what Sondheim was talking about. To sit stunned, ruminating over what just happened onstage is certainly a fabulous reaction to a show, and one I’ve had many times. But this was total, utter pleasure and joy running through my body, pouring over me until it lifted me up by my shoelaces (that's just a saying – I rarely wear laces). The foul mood I was in earlier was now a distant memory.

I've had plenty of true standing O's before and since that Book of Mormon preview and each one is a real rush of emotions and a cathartic delight. That’s what a standing ovation is all about, and it’s a thrill I wish I had more often. Knowing what that feels like, when I stand for something that didn’t lift me out of my seat – when I'm faking it – I feel wrong (and a little dirty). Yet I still do it, ‘cause like most of you, I have signed the Musical Theatre Community Contract. Then afterwards I observe the Five-Block Rule (don't talk about the show within a five block radius of the theatre in which it's playing – also, as a general rule I don't talk critically about anything theatre-related inside a theater unless it's in the abstract – you never know who's in earshot) and wait to dish the show over drinks with friends somewhere far away from the theater. 

GREGORY JACOBS-ROSEMAN is a composer/lyricist and theatrical sound designer currently developing Save The Date: A New Musical Comedy. www.gregjr.com
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Comments

[Barbie Pinto]

I’ll admit that I have stood during the curtain call of shows I didn’t think merited this once sacred practice, mainly because I didn’t want to be the one asshat in the audience sitting in defiance of the practice (and also so I could see the stage).

[Loren A. Roberts (guru of multi-hyphenate media)]

See, standing ovations are even harder in the classical music world. Interpretation varies, and sometimes something that sounds really good could be completely "wrong" to purists, or people who have studies the music extensively. For instance, a few months ago I had the privilege of hearing the American Youth Symphony performing Prokofiev's Suite from Romeo and Juliet, and it was stunning. Me and my dad stood up immediately, because although I knew they had taken the piece much faster than was normal, the conducting and performing was absolutely stunning. But we (and a handful of others) were the only ones that stood. And I wonder if that was because the audience knew it had been performed too fast. (And I am not one to stand up at the end of a piece; as a performer, I like to save my standing O's for truly outstanding moments...)

Is a standing ovation an emotional thing, like you describe? Or an acknowledgement that the performers have done something technically close to perfection? What is the rubric for determining when a standing O is justified?

[Haley Bond]

I'm totally a sitter.

Like the last person to stand after everyone else has gotten up, mostly because I can no longer see anything. Unless a show is particularly special and, like Greg, has moved me to rise up out of my seat. (ex: One Man Two Guvners, Book of Mormon, South Pacific).

The level of work that everyone puts into shows like that is so high I can do nothing but stand out of pure exhilaration.

So when I am at a show in which the writers, cast, director, etc. (it could be any or all of them) don't get me emotionally involved- because they don't effectively tell a moving story- I don't feel compelled to stand.
And maybe it's the Catholic in me but I would feel like a total liar if I stood.

I regret that we no longer live in a time where there is an unspoken code of conduct for the theatre. Before cell phones, movie theatre candy and before jeans were allowed to be worn. The theatre was treated as a higher art form, which it is and still should be.

I really liked Ryan's MT Community Contract. We should all be supportive and refrain from being catty bitches who say "I could have done better", etc.

But along with that there should also be a contract about actually putting out the ABSOLUTE BEST production/performance/material out there. Saying 'fuck you' to producers who don't care about quality and wouldn't know what taste was if they had 6 tongues. It should also, as professionals, be our responsibility to say 'fuck you' to deadlines when you know deep down that what you've created isn't quite the greatest you can produce. Do another rehearsal, do another workshop, do another out of town try out until you know you cannot make it any better.

If we do this, then we're more likely to actually give a Standing-O. A real genuine Standing-O, and everyone standing won't just be the tourists who bussed in from Rochester it will actually be the community. It will mean so much more than the forced stand, the gesture of 'thanks for trying, guys'.

I want to sign Ryan's contract for myself but I'm not one to encourage "art" that is lazy or cautious. I'm super supportive of those who really try to go out on a limb even if they fail- they tried (ex: Women on The Verge- fucking love that show and they failed all over the place). I won't waste my energy standing on shows that made me feel nothing; of which there is a plethora.
I want to be wowed. Whether it's one song, one moment in a persons performance, technical glory, I don't care as long as it's true.
That's why I'm in this business. I will give credit where credit is due, when it is due.

[Gregory Jacobs-Roseman (Composer-Lyricist)]

Loren:

I don't think there's an exact rubric for determining when to stand and when not to. I think you know it when you feel it. For me it’s that moment of “oh my God, they just DID that!!” that lifts me out of my chair.

I would have loved to hear that performance of Romeo and Juliet. It’s possible that the fast tempo – the inertia of the piece – jolted you out of your seat like in a speeding car that suddenly hit the breaks when you weren’t wearing your seatbelt. But then it’s also possible that it was just incredible that they nailed it at such a breakneck pace. I think the audience for classical music – the real die-hard fans – are much more well versed in the material than the average Broadway patron, so a standing ovation is less common at say, Avery Fisher Hall than it is next door at the Vivian Beaumont. The audience isn’t going to rise out of routine because, well, they’ve been there before and they’ve been there often. An ensemble or soloist is going to have to do something spectacular for them to stand.

But in general, for me a real standing O is an emotional thing, but that usually comes when I sense something close to perfection onstage.

[Gregory Jacobs-Roseman (Composer-Lyricist)]

Haley:

I absolutely agree with you on principal, but I also agree with Ryan’s contract in that theatre is a business and in business sometimes you do things just to make everyone happy.

I used to be the worst offender of letting my emotions show while sitting in an audience if I didn’t like a piece. After noticing some turned heads, I realized I wasn’t doing myself any favors ‘cause the theatre community in New York has like 12 people in it, and you may only know persons one through six, but chances are one through six know seven through 12.

That said, YES, I do believe we should all be putting the best art forward that we can, and that starts with ourselves. Every actor, writer, director, designer, has a different voice, a different eye, different ears, etc. We can only make what we deem to be the best from our own selves. Sometimes the reality of the business – deadlines, etc. – makes this difficult.

You mentioned Women On The Verge. I saw that show three times. And I’m proud to say: I liked it. Structurally, it was a MESS, but I liked it. The songs were awesome. The performances were great. In my opinion, it just needed more time to gestate, and may have suffered due to a rushed schedule and deadlines. It was frustrating as a writer to watch it and think “I could fix this play. New opening number. Move this scene. Swap these songs. Cut that number. Get rid of this character. Etc.” But I still find myself humming the tunes, and as Dana says in the video clip in my post: that’s “really quite something.”

In the end, when a show doesn’t merit a standing O but everyone stands, I stand too out of politeness. Is it disingenuous? Maybe. But there’s already enough rude people in this business. No sense in being one more.

[Shoshana]

I've always been reserved in my standing ovations, but if it's a friend's show and everyone else is standing, I'm going to stand too. In general, it's hard to be the one person sitting but I think it's harder to be the only one standing when you give a show a standing ovation and no one else does.

[Loren A. Roberts (guru of multi-hyphenate media)]

Gregory: I love your well-reasoned responses...thanks.

I think the hard thing for me (and I just admitted to being party to it as well) is that it is easier to get caught up in the moment and give a standing O than it is to really reward the best material and performances with one. What I mean is: sometimes the most emotional performance -- or composition -- isn't necessarily that good -- it's just big and emotional. So we give it a big and emotional response. But I remember one of the best rock concerts I ever went to, where the artist got the crowd to start singing the encore, and then she left the stage while we were still singing...robbing us of the final applause/standing O. But it was an incredibly electric moment. No standing O (because she was gone off the stage and wasn't coming back), but truly incredible nonetheless.

So, it's always an issue for me of standing for a) wonderful bombast, or b) wonderful wonderful-ness?

[Sabine Solano]

curtain call of shows I didn’t think merited this once sacred practice, mainly because