You can hope that things will change, but, as someone who insisted on speaking French and annoying all their friends once said, plus 硠change, plus c’est la mꭥ chose. In any case, if you caught a major theater opening in the last couple of weeks, you know what this is all about, Pierre: People are still rising, en masse, at the end of performances that would leave your dear old grandmother stone-faced. Why does this continue to happen? What kind of malevolent force has penetrated the sinews of Seattleites and propelled them off their seats to howl praise at shows featuring tired ex-sitcom stars, wobbly sets, and even wobblier execution?
We’ve been through this, people. It would be nice to stop crabbing, Scrooge-like in this holiday season, about the Pavlovian responses of local audiences, but things have simply gone too far. At this point, you’d think there would at least be vague inklings of shame, some tiny, terrified voice inside patrons that cries, No, oh, god, please don’t do it, please. But the act continues. Someone has to stop this hairy beast from consuming the rest of the population, and if it takes a balding cynic to do it, then so be it.
Don’t stand up. A good show does not mean a standing ovation. A great show does not mean a standing ovation. A standing ovation is an instinctive act that contains no moment of hesitation, no room for doubt. If you have even half a second of “Eh . . . ” or “Well . . . ,” you don’t get to rise. You stand only if your soul impels you to, if something inside you has been so deeply stirred that you’re on your feet seemingly before the thought “Get up!” has completely reached consciousness. You stand because every last spirit lying dormant in your body has been called to action to express supreme gratitude for being so surprisingly awakened; you don’t stand because the cast memorized all its lines, because you didn’t get hurt, or because Marilu Henner was so much fun on Taxi.
Let’s move as one now, and let it go. The people onstage will move on. No one will cry. If anything, they’ll work harder, because, believe it or not, they know it’s wrong, too. They like it, but they know it’s wrong. Because, when it feels right, they’ll remember it for the rest of their lives. And so will you.
