"Once" in a Theater

A perfect moment of theater does not necessarily happen in a show that is entirely good. It's likelier in a show that is entirely good from start to finish. But it can also happen in one of those shows that leaves you mostly emotionless, where you didn't entirely dislike it but you didn't like it very much either. That happened to me with the musical version of Once, a charming little Irish movie about two socially awkward yet musically talented people who develop feelings for each other, make music and then not make love.

But this post is not about what struck me (or didn't) about the musical version of the film, currently playing at the New York Theatre Workshop (it's also written by Enda Walsh, whose Penelope was my first moment of theatrical bliss in New York City). No, this is the story of that rare and perfect theatrical moment.

Walking into Once, I was greeted by a pub. And not just any pub, an Irish pub. A group of plain-dressed men and women were onstage, playing jaunty gigs on fiddle, guitar, cello, banjo and a variety of other instruments (throughout the musical, they will provide the backing music and play supporting roles). It was an old-fashion jam session and I felt like I was interrupting a moment between friends, full of inside jokes I didn't understand. Though it may also have been the Irish accents.

After about 10 minutes, it was 8 p.m. and the musicians are winding down, but not before saying that there should be one more song. So they tell a tall, handsome, square-jawed man (who I previously did not notice) to play a tune, it's his turn they say.

So he holds up his guitar and shyly begins, slowly. This isn't an old folk song, it's more intimate, more personal. And it sets the tone for the evening.

"I can't wait forever is all that you said
Before you stood up
And you won't disappoint me
I can do that myself
But I'm glad that you've come
Now if you don't mind

Leave, leave"

And as he sings, the other musicians fall to the sidelines and the house lights come down. And just with that downturn, the world of reality melts away into the world of the theater. And a single spotlight shines on the man, as he tugs your heart for the first time in the evening (and it won't be the last). 

Soon, another light comes onto the second character, as she watches him, entranced like the audience. Like them, she is wondering who he is singing about, who he is shouting to. And it's a beautiful moment of lights, music and some damn good acting.

"Let go of my hand
You said what you have to now
Leave! Leave..."

So begins Once the musical.



Post script: And while I enjoyed some parts of the show more than others, even now, weeks after the fact, I am still struck by that opener; that flawless theatrical moment. It happens once and again, but when it does, it reminds you why you love the medium so much, how easily the outside world falls away and you are transported to a different place, a different continent with a change of the light and some wonderful acting.

That's beautiful music.

Once is closing Jan. 15 at the New York Theatre Workshop but it's reopening on Broadway on Feb. 28. I do recommend it for hopeless romantics and lovers of musicians.