Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
Friday night brought a wave of emotions that began well before we left for the IRT play. Marketed as a “modern family comedy,” it sounded to me like a show with a clear social agenda, and by midday I had nearly talked myself out of going.
I’ve always felt uncomfortable watching public displays of affection, no matter who’s involved. That’s not a moral judgment; it’s simply my personal reaction. It doesn’t diminish my ability to love, respect, and support my friends. I don’t need to see affection to affirm it. My worry was that the play might lean too heavily on the “gay” angle and get in the way of my enjoying the comedy—much like late-night shows that now seem to favor divisive material over lighthearted fun.
Thinking about the IRT, however, always stirs deep and positive feelings. It might sound odd, but a night there is a restorative break from my routine. Whatever burdens I’m carrying usually fade for a while. With that in mind, we decided to go. Once the decision was made, I made a conscious effort to set aside my anxieties and approach the evening with an open mind—a skill I’ve worked hard to build. It’s perfectly normal to have questions and opinions, but once a choice is made, I believe it’s important to remain open to the experience. That wasn’t always my nature, and that change is one of the things I appreciate about growing older.
Friday night performances are still an adjustment, especially because Katy’s work schedule leaves limited time for dinner. Even so, we enjoyed a quick but lovely meal at Salt at Geist, sitting at the bar. Katy ordered the scallops; I had the crab cakes. Both were excellent.
After more than 30 years as an IRT season ticket holder, I’ve grown to value the convenience of valet parking. Last night, though, the line backed up into the intersection, forcing me to circle the block. It was a minor inconvenience, but it did highlight the level of enthusiasm surrounding the theater.
Our Repertory Society membership adds to the evening with small but meaningful perks: access to designated areas and pre-show drinks on opening night. I often say there isn’t a bad seat in the house, but our front-row seats are a particular pleasure.
With drinks in hand, we settled into our seats and admired a terrific set—something I’ve come to expect from IRT productions. The pre-show soundscape featured theme songs from the sitcoms of our youth, which stirred both nostalgia and laughter. Trying to identify each tune became its own game, with little bursts of recognition. “I know this. I know this. Bewitched? No… My Three Sons!” And then more laughter.
The playwright, R. Eric Thomas, was in attendance—a detail that reflects the IRT’s commitment to creating a dialogue between artists and audiences. Longtime figures like James Still only deepen that sense of connection.
This isn’t a formal review so much as a personal account of the play and how it landed with me. The performance inspired many shades of laughter, from quiet chuckles to loud, foot-stomping outbursts. It also offered moments of real emotional weight. Ultimately, the play focused on the universal human journey—our need for flexibility, growth, and openness. Mr. Thomas treated every character as a full person rather than a stereotype.
Once again, the IRT delivered an outstanding production. Well done!
Leave a Reply