The Friends We Made Along the Way

“Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along the way!” This rather clichéd sentiment is used more often as the punchline of a joke than it is as a sincere statement. I’m not even sure where the quote originally came from. I’m also not sure I’ve ever heard it used in a context that wasn’t meant to be at least somewhat sarcastic. Spoken sincerely, it seems a bit saccharine.

I’ve made my fair share of jokes along those lines too. (“Maybe the real super-villain team was the fiends we made along the way!”) But here’s the thing: Underneath the saccharine and the sarcasm, it’s actually a pretty powerful statement—and one that’s essential to who I am and what I do.

Theater in 50 Hours

A week and a half ago, I participated in the 50-Hour Drive-By Theatre Festival at Zombie Joe’s Underground. If you’re not familiar with it, a group of writers, actors, and directors get together to mount four 10-15 minute plays, in the space of just over two days. It’s a wild and chaotic adventure, to say the least.

This was my 10th year participating, and in that time I’ve had a wide range of experiences, ranging from a total blast to absolutely miserable. Furthermore, since teams are assigned completely at random, it’s virtually impossible to know what kind of experience you’re going to have until you’re thrown into the thick of it.

You hope, of course, for a great writer to write you a stellar script, and an experienced director who’s done this before and knows how to handle things under pressure. But I realized something this year. Neither of those things matters nearly as much as you think they’re going to.

I’ve gotten great scripts and talented directors and still ended up with a bad experience. And I’ve gotten mediocre scripts and first-time directors and still had a blast. When it comes down to it, the key is this: how well do you get along with the people you’re going to be spending the next two days with?

Once you’re handed your script, those people—the other actors and your director—will be your constant companions until the curtain goes up on your performance. You rehearse late into the night and arrive bright and early the next day. You run lines, you figure out blocking, and you do your best to remember all of it. Every one of you runs a gamut of emotions in that time, from elation to despair to sheer panic, as the hours continue to tick by. And you carry one another through a truly Herculean endeavor that would be impossible on your own.

If you can manage to bond with each other while you do that, then it will be an experience like nothing else in the world. But if you clash with each other, antagonize each other, or give each other problems, then it can end up being one of the worst creative experiences of your life.

I was nervous this year about what kind of experience I was going to have. The last couple of years have been pretty rough. And this year, my castmates were four people I barely knew and had never worked with before. But then once we got started…it just clicked. We helped each other, we played off of each other, and together, we made a pretty decent play and had a pretty great time in the process.

It was honestly one of the best 50-Hour Drive-By experiences I’ve had in a long time. And in my opinion, the quality of the play itself ended up being much better, simply by virtue of the fact that our cast all got along so well.

Where You Are and Who You’re With

I’m a firm believer that, in most areas of life, what you do doesn’t matter nearly so much as who you’re with. I’ve gone to fairs and festivals and found myself watching the clock, wondering when it would be time to go home, simply because the group I went with wasn’t really one that I meshed with. Or because I had no group at all, but was there by myself, wondering what the point was of being there at all without people to share it with.

On the other hand, I’ve had the time of my life going to the grocery store or the bank with friends I care about and whose company I enjoy. Then later on, someone asks, “So, how was your day?” and I’ll respond with, “It was awesome! I bought potatoes and mozzarella cheese at Trader Joe’s!” And I probably sound unhinged, but those simple errands were the highlight of my day. Not because of the potatoes OR the mozzarella cheese, but because of the friends who came along for the ride.

(Although in fairness, I do tend to get excited about both potatoes and mozzarella cheese, even when I’m shopping alone. Especially if they’re on sale.)

Nothing But the Best?

The same thing is true in creative endeavors. When I was in college, I took a theater directing class. For our final project, we collaborated with the Acting 1 class to do a series of scenes. Their class auditioned for our class, and then we had a meeting to determine which directors would get to direct which actors. Some of the Acting 1 students were only just starting out, while others were already among the most respected members of our theater department, so it seemed inevitable that there would be some fighting about the choices.

To cut the tension, I joked, “It’s OK, I’ll just take whoever’s at the bottom of the barrel.”

Our professor took offense at this—rather more than I expected, in fact. “No!” he told me emphatically. “You always want to have the best people possible in any project!”

I’ve thought about that statement ever since, particularly whenever I cast a show. And I don’t think he was right. I’ve cast some really talented people in my shows. I’ve made short films with very talented and capable people working behind the scenes. But how talented they are doesn’t make a bit of difference if they don’t work well with the rest of the group.

Talent Vs. Connection

I’ve seen very talented people with massive egos decide they’d rather do their own thing than listen to the director—or who are more focused on doing what will make them look good than they are on collaborating with the rest of the cast. I’ve seen people decide they were “too good” for the group or project they were part of and just start phoning it in, instead of putting in real effort.

And I’ve seen people who were inexperienced or unsure of themselves work hard and do an amazing job. I’ve seen them find a rapport with other members of the group that ended up being palpable in their performances. Those connections are what create magic onstage, and they’re a big part of why I do theater in the first place. If you ask me which I’d rather have, one ultra-talented person or a cast gets along with each other, plays well with each other and off of each other, and is able to create that magic, I’ll take the latter, every time, even if they’re not “the best” by traditional standards.

I’m lucky in that I have a group that tends to self-select for that dynamic. My theater troupe, Spirit OnStage, is small. We don’t have a lot of people or a lot of resources. We don’t have very big audiences. And we also tend not to take ourselves too seriously. The people with big egos who are hard to work with don’t find their way to us very often. Sometimes one will come along for a single show, and then vanish into the night.

The ones who stick around are the ones who “click.” The ones who are OK with a script that evolves over time due to the input (and often adlibs) of the cast, and the ones who will join in when we inevitably start trading song lyrics and obscure references or talking about superheroes, during rehearsal.

Talent AND Connection

Fortunately, those people who stick around Spirit OnStage are also extremely talented. Make no mistake about that. But in addition to a lot of talent, we also have a lot of fun. And that’s the key ingredient. That’s what makes what we do special.

That’s the dynamic I prefer as an audience member, too. Sure, I enjoy Big and Important Works of Art™, from the plays they give you to study in theater class to the latest, hyper-intense Oscar fodder… But what I really like to see is works where everyone involved is clearly having a great time. It could be a play, a film, a concert, an art installation at a museum, or whatever else. But when the people who made it really enjoyed making it, that enjoyment becomes palpable. And their enjoyment becomes your enjoyment.

That’s the kind of art I like to consume, and it’s the kind of art that I strive to make. The kind of art where I can get my friends together and have fun. Work hard, use our talents, create amazing things, but have fun. And then, once it’s ready, bring the audience into the fun as well. That’s how great art is made, and it’s how great friendships are forged. And if that’s not real treasure, then I don’t know what is.