Pandemonium!

I've had nearly a week to absorb the madness of Pandemonium!, Cleveland Public Theatre's phenomenal annual fundraiser which was held last Saturday night.

A leather boy playing the string bass, a twirling fire baton in a darkened corner, a mysterious Mary Kayish cosmetic party being held in an alley, Prometheus setting the Cuyahoga River on fire, masked revelers, belly dancers - performers and musicians appearing on balconies, in garages, churches, on stilts - and literally hanging from the ceiling. Oh, yes..and the idiots more interested in watching the football game being projected on a giant geodome than absorbing the amazement swirling around them.

These were just a few of the many eclectic sights and sounds of the evening. Plus gourmet snack food, too much wine and a fabulous companion who looked sizzling hot.

Then there was my own 10-minute play "Mary Worth Is A Whore" being performed. Who could ask for more?

I was playwright and assistant prop master for the evening, spending Saturday afternoon making a Class Reunion sign and purchasing a corsage for the character of Miss Applewood. I felt a bit harried and nervous by the evening's start. (I should have taken Alfred E. Newman's advice, there was no need to worry.)

The performances of "Mary Worth" went great. If one more actor apologized to me for a slightly miffed line or a half-second late entrance, I might have screamed. You're all professionals folks. No one knew but me and you and Jenna. It was our own "Forbidden Knowledge". (The theme of this year's Pandemonium!)

The audience responded with laughter at the beginning (the audience always laughs at some action or line that surprises me...always) and intent focus at the end. My fabulous companion was a little misty eyed when it was over. That was a high compliment, indeed. What is a playwright trying to do, if not evoke an emotional response?

The show was even mentioned (not by name or author, but by its plot points) on Cleveland Magazine's blog.

Two audience members after the final performance requested to speak to the author. They wanted to know more about the specificities of Miss Applewood's secret. Although I have my own scenario firmly in place, I feel revealing my version of events would be cheating somehow. Why is my version more valid than what they would determine for themselves? Having a little ambiguity is a good thing, I believe.

Most of the time, in a play or story, the audience needs to feel a sense of completion, an understanding of the events they've just witnessed. They've been sticking with the piece (even if it's just for 10 minutes) and they deserve a sense of satisfaction. But if I can accomplish that without answering all the questions, that's ultimately even more satisfying.

The audience member should build his/her own specificity, elaborate in their own imagination about the play. This keeps the play living and breathing in people's minds long after the last lines have been spoken by the actors.