Apologies

by Jamie Dunsdon

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Closing a show can be tough, especially when it's one you care about.  Tearing down the set, saying goodbye to the team, and letting go of the character can all be difficult.

But that’s nothing, compared to the post-show-acolleaguey, the most painful experience of all.

The “acolleaguey” or “colleague apology” usually occurs in a bar or coffee shop, or in a lobby of another theatre.   It’s usually awkward and always hard to watch.  You catch the eye of somebody else in the industry, you end up in the same circle, and you have to explain why you didn’t catch their show last week.  You could have the most legitimate excuse in the world (“I had to attend a funeral.”) or the worst (“My ferret ate my car keys and then choked and died, and my car broke down on the way to the pet crematorium.”).  You can even avoid the conversation all together.  It doesn’t matter.  It’s always uncomfortable.

Having just closed a show myself, I’ve received a few acolleagueys in the past week.  And, like prison relationships, they’re even more uncomfortable for the person on the receiving end.

I have to admit that during the run of the show, I was disappointed when a couple of fellow artists I expected to attend, didn’t.  The inevitable “I went to HIS show…” ran through my head.  I suppose it has something to do with the muddy line between “friend” and “co-worker” in the theatre industry.   We hope our friends and family will support the projects that are important to us, but that’s perhaps a bit presumptuous when you consider half the population of the Auburn your friends and family.

It’s also harder for younger artists, I expect, for whom every show is a BIG deal.  Most older, established artists make no apology.  And I think we youngins should learn from that.

So.  Thank you for your regrets, but it's not necessary.  I understand.  The fact is, most of us can’t afford to attend every show in the city, and even if we could, most of us don’t want to spend all of our evenings thinking about the same things we do during the day.   Moreover, we can’t expect artists to fill up all the empty seats of Calgary theatres.  If we’re only producing our theatre for other theatre makers, we’re doing it wrong.

Of course artists should support each other, and of course we should try to see as much theatre as we can.  I firmly believe it’s one of the most important ways to grow as an artist.  And established artists should absolutely check out what the emerging community is doing, keep in touch what the young folks are playing at.  But let’s dispense with the post-show apologies, okay?  There's no way everybody can see everything.  Let’s celebrate each other’s work, and find ways to fill up our audiences with people we’ve never met.

So.  For once and for all, on behalf of everybody:

I’m sorry I can’t or didn’t see your play, performance, or workshop.  I didn’t know you were in that!  You know, I tried to come on the Thursday, but it was sold out!  Also…I thought it started at 8:00, not 7:30, and parking downtown was ridiculous.  What?  You close on Saturday?  Aw, man, I planned to see the Sunday matinee.  You know what?  I have to be out of town that week anyway.  Damn, if I wasn’t so low on cash, I would totally go.  Besides, I’m in rehearsals all week for this other show across town.  It goes up next week!   …Are you coming to it?