Of Mice and Manhattan

When I told a colleague at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln that I planned to move to New York after finishing my master’s degree, his eyes lit up.

“New York City is like Disneyland!” he pronounced.

Almost three years on, I have discovered that, in many respects, the comparison holds true. There are moments when I sense that my Midwest-raised frame has been superimposed against this dense, dirty, and often glittering urban landscape: I walk past the Empire State Building every morning on my way to work; I spot celebrities walking their dogs over my lunch break; and next week I’m reviewing two Broadway shows. Pinch me, I’m actually here.

Like Disney (and its related amusement parks, animated films, and Broadway shows), New York is committed to heightening our sense of reality to an almost alarming degree: everything must be bigger, quicker, and brighter. Just a glimpse of Times Square is all you need to know that, yes, sometimes there can be a tad too much color and a smidge too much noise.

I’m happy to say that I have been reviewing and writing about New York theater for over two years, and now, at long last, I’m staking a claim on the cyber-expanse of the blogosphere.

I coined “In the Land of Make Believe” in part to reference the Disneyfication of the city (and theater itself, as the Mouse continues to usurp real estate on Broadway), but also to conjure up the immense power of imagination that informs much of the theater that I observe and review (and have performed in, for that matter).

Much of the city’s electricity, I believe, fizzes around 8:00 p.m. when, on most evenings, curtains rise and shows commence in a plethora of theatrical spaces—both large and small. Just imagine it. Stories unfolding, tragedy befalling, laughter exploding, applause thundering … all live and in person.

That theater requires a certain suspension of disbelief from its audience is undeniable, but most of the time we are all too aware that this “reality” has been manufactured for our consumption.

And yet, I continue to believe in the power of theater, the power of this city, and the power of “make believe” to trump its own artifice. I live for the rare, but dazzling, epiphanies of great truth and revelation. We’ve all had them: the “A-ha!” moment when a script twists unexpectedly to create a sharp take on reality; the actor whose unaffected portrayal of a character brings us frighteningly close to humanity (and ourselves); the musical phrase that unveils a sliver of authentic romance; the random gesture of kindness on the subway that can briefly restore your faith in the world.

So to best reflect and examine these moments of truth when and wherein I discover them, I plan to write both about theater and, well, the theater of life.

Perhaps I do live in a sort of Disneyland. But it’s a fantasy world born of immense possibilities, and I continue to return to the theater—and hit the city’s streets each day—eager to separate the Mouse from the myth.