Going to a play is something entirely magical. Because of my love of literature, plays included, going to the theater has always been something very special to me. The feelings of anticipation and eagerness fill me as I sit in a seat and stare out towards a distant curtain, not yet lifted to show the already set stage. My pulse starts racing. My breath catches. I feel a smile spring to my face. And then the lights dim, music begins (if the play includes that) and as the curtain rises a whole new world is revealed where I can learn and grow and reflect on elements of life.
From Shakespeare to Wicked, I have never been one to turn down a chance to see a stage performance. I have of course spoken a bit excessively of my love of musicals, but beyond catchy tunes I can always appreciate a work of well done theatre.
Tonight, I had the privilege of seeing my college’s production of Enchanted April, a story about two wives who decide to rent a castle in Italy for a month to get away from their dreary London lives. They team up with two other young women, an older widow stuck in her ways, and a popular young woman caught up in drinking and partying. The four encounter enchantment in their visit, something to change them once and for all.
The play was lovely. It was set in a round theater (I suppose square is actually more accurate), and complete with a lovely set, handsome costumes, and hilarious drama. My roommate and I had to double over laughing at some of the particularly funny parts. Alongside those moments of humor, we also enjoyed the elements that were simply magical. For all college peers, I strongly recommend going in the next week of production. It is, simply put, marvelous!
All compliments aside there was one troubling matter for me when the stage finally was emptied, and the crowds were exiting the theater. This matter was something that has brought me much reflection, and, in many ways, has caused me to love the play even more. The problem was this: a part of the play had been left unresolved.
While I don’t wish to spoil anything for potential viewers (either at my college or elsewhere), this plot element was troubling for me and I had a hard time moving past it as I exited out of the theater. This conflict between a young man and a young woman was hinted at, given some significance in the second act and then totally abandoned at the end. While it made for an interesting dilemma, I felt disappointed that somehow this issue never got brought to the forefront of the plot. I am a person who likes conclusion, where either things work out or they don’t, but at least the problem is somehow addressed.
I suppose this is just a matter of personal taste. In my own writing I have difficulty leaving a story behind if I feel there is some matter that never was resolved. I drive my writing friends mad with my constant need to write “extra” scenes just to make myself feel at peace about an issue. My last book in fact ended with a young woman never discovering who her attacker was, moving on with her life. While it seemed fine and dandy for the protagonist, it was particularly difficult for me and I may yet write something to cut off my sense of it being incomplete.
Why? Why is there this need within me, and possibly within others? What makes the human population desire and crave some sort of resolution? After all, that is the basic essence of a story: a setting to start, a problem introduced, rising action, a climax, and a conclusion. The very nature of plot is defined by this.
And so I have no true answer to why this is really a problem. Some things are simply left unfinished. It’s a part of life. And yet a part inside of me yearns to see characters eliminating difficulties.
Let me know your thoughts and if you have any good play recommendations for me. I can always add to my list. Also, I have added a rating feature (along with a few other features such as my goodreads reading list). Please feel free to rate this blog and possibly previous posts. I would appreciate it! I always like to know what my readers are enjoying.