From the first day of rehearsal, I've been in love with this cast. They are the late 80's Showtime Lakers, the monsters of the midway who cannot be stopped by man nor beast and win with a charming smile. So Showtime has been on my mind for a good many months and now, here we are, the NBA Finals, where the Lake-Men of Many A Police/Los Angeles have engaged their ancient foes, the Celts of Boss-Tone, and all appears to be written to a conclusion that is as demented as our own third act!
Of course, SHOWTIME might also spark a memory of Sifu Fosse and his marvelous biopic where the tired old showman has to summon the lightning every morning to limited (or diminishing?) results. Thankfully, although I've heard MANY of my brothers and sisters exult that rasping "Showtime...!" into the window over the past month, we are not experiencing anything other than a persistence of joy on FZ6D. We are, many of us, working multiple gigs as the show rolls through the fields of battle, and so we often find ourselves entering the Sixth Dimension after a ten hour day spent in the company of those who might not consider our art. It makes it quite easy to shed the scales of worry and loss when you get to armor up and engage King Fausto or The Devil Himself in merriment and delusional games.
The joy comes in hearing laughter in new places in the show, and in watching friends and strangers alike come alive with pleasure after their long day in Lost Assholes, Califunktion. The joy is present when you realize that the person in the front row is just as in love with the tale as the people on stage. The joy is alive and unstoppable when you realize that you didn't recognize close friends because you had never seen their face with a look of SHOCK upon it! Would that there was a bar behind the spinny walls of the Sixth Dimension so that we never had to leave and we could just wrap ourselves in your love as we all fall down a bottle of single malt Scotch whisky together. Cheers!
- Marz Richards