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Education
How does theater change the lives of
young people?
Just read some of the testimonials from our Millennium Youth
Company
When an audience walks into a theater, they yearn for this. They desire nothing
more than to be swept away, to laugh at the comedic relief and to cry for the
tragic ending. Theater has allowed me to bring this beautiful release to so many
people. As an audience member, I know how wonderful it feels to experience
catharsis. There is no therapy like theater. Theater taught me to feel more
deeply, to see more vividly and to love more widely. I have never known passion
like that of theater. Theater lets us dream, without guilt and without worry. It
brings color to the doldrums of life. It shows us the possibilities in our own
life that we have buried beneath our piles of paperwork and tabloid magazines
and computer graphics. Theater has affected me like nothing else because it is
real. There is no editing; there are no glycerin tears and no surround sound
technology. The tears are real, the smiles are held up by genuine joy and the
voices fill the room because the singer’s words fill his soul. Theater can
enrich a person’s life. It is not just enriching to the mind, it builds up the
soul with self assurance and appreciation for beauty. Theater takes a person out
of their own self-centered mind, and into the world. Through theater, I have
found happiness, satisfaction, peace and most importantly of all, hope. And with
the Lord as my witness, I will keep searching, and helping others find it for
the rest of my life.
Kristina Carfagno, Age 20
 (top)
As I reflect on my life and think of the important things that make me who I
am, I realize theatre has completely altered my existence. Theatre has spoken to
my life in a most silenced yet profound way. I find that theatre speaks to my
very soul, the essence of who I am, and gives me an outlet to express all I know
about myself and wish to learn. Though I portray many characters on stage, the
art of theatre allows me to express all the fears in my heart, scars in my life,
and wonderful memories I hold, and transform them into magical performances that
speak directly to the experiences of those in the audience. What a liberating
feeling it is to step in and out of different masks each night and leave behind
the stress and worries that life holds.
Theatre is my bliss! Theatre allows me to travel to distant lands; it allows me
to step into the shoes of royalty and witches, become the epitome of who I wish
I was in reality and take on the traits of my worst enemy. Whether playing the
role of a bitter woman or unhappy teen, my true-self is completely happy. I find
joy in knowing that acting stimulates the growth of me as an individual.
Acting is knowledge. Every time I have the honor of “stepping into the shoes of
another,” I find love and pure bliss. I found the essence of my soul through
acting…
Brianna Horne, Age 18
(top)
I entered high school. I was very
nervous about trying out for the school play. There were so many older kids in
the school that were intimidating to me and it was scary for me to adapt to the
new environment. My mother was never very happy with me doing the school plays;
she wanted me to play a sport or two so that it looked good on college resumes
in the future. I had no interest in playing a sport, but did so for my mother's
sake and took up wrestling. My brother had wrestled the year before, so I joined
the team to be with my brother. My brother was never much help with wrestling,
and my mother was not satisfied with me. She did not like the sport, and felt as
if I did it to spite her.. It was not true; I only wanted to please my mother.
It was at this time that I decided to completely change my style and go into a
rebellious stage. My clothing was rather different than everyone else. I wore
large over-sized pants, all black shirts and pants, ball chained necklaces and
bracelets, a style that just completely depicted the difference between my
brother and I. I started writing songs and poems to express how I felt instead
of voicing them to people who, he felt, did not want to listen.
It was time for Austin to think about college and his future. I had a great
senior year. I got my first real job; I graduated in the top of his class with
the National Honor Society and even sang at graduation.
Although a reader would expect someone who has gone through a lot of rough times
in their life to be extreme and unheard, I had a different kind of rough times.
I experienced so many different emotions and stresses that it would not occur to
someone that life just did not go according to plan for a happy life. If life
was so low for me sometimes, how come I never broke down or had any outbursts?
Well, he had his major outlet in his life: theatre. Theatre was where he could
forget all of his stress and upsets and leave his life as I became someone else.
I grew up so much being apart of the theatre. I was taught discipline in the
arts by learning to listen to directions and apply them to the piece he was
working on and was able to apply it to the world he lived in. I learned how to
lead by example in practices and shows when he kept composure during rehearsals
and expressed his love and sincerity for what I did to others. I was able to
take what I was feeling and put it into his characters as his way of venting his
emotions as someone else would, therefore not hurting anyone in the process and
relieving my heavy heart.
The theatre was something that I never thought of doing until the seventh grade.
I had been in a few small plays in second grade, but nothing major. To think
that I would come this far with it and grow so much is absolutely amazing. I
learned life skills and made life friends in the theatre, and I will never lose
my edge with these tools. Each time I get on stage I feel alive and untouchable.
Nothing has ever meant more to me than the theater, and I would like to see
nothing more than having more people get involved with it. I was recently in a
production of 'Into the Woods' my senior year of high school, and I never worked
harder than I did in that show. It was my first lead role, and I was so nervous
about putting on a great show. I had a great cast to work with and great
directors.
My high school director told me that theatre can change the world. I know it
can. I was on stage when I changed a small part of the world in that show. I
felt it every time I walked off the stage. Closing night I cried my eyes out
because it was over. I started crying during the finale of the show, I could not
bare to even think my theatre career had reached a plateau that I never wanted
to part from. I hugged everyone backstage and thanked them for the honor to work
with them. You develop such great bonds with people in the theatre; it is an
incomparable with anything else out there. I love the theatre and I would do
anything to expose it to more and more people, so they can have the experiences
I have. I made a promise to my acting teacher that I would keep my hand in
theatre no matter what I do in life. Theatre can teach anyone to have confidence
and determination. I am going to change the world.
Austin Begley, Age 19
(top)
Within each of us there is a little place called the comfort zone. A place, in
which, we can settle in, nice and warm, between clouds of safety and
self-confidence. A place where our talents are never challenged, our abilities
never pushed or questioned. Where a happy medium protects from both the depths
of failure, as well as, dangerously unstable success.
As a dancer since the age of 3, I happily floated along in my comfort zone. I
attended class, worked in rehearsals, performed in everything from full-length
ballets to parades, showcases, and competition. However, throughout the entirety
of my dancing career, which abruptly ended with an irreversible knee injury the
summer before my freshman year of high school, never once did I allow myself to
out step the bounds of my comfort zone. When a more advanced class was offered I
was content to remain one of the best in the lower level. When stylish workshop
classes were offered in a field that I did not already excel, I refused to
attend. I simply was content being good at the things I was already good at.
My decision to audition for South Pacific, the spring musical of my freshman
year, changed both my life and my performing career forever. Suddenly I was not
one of the best in the rehearsal room. Success did not come easily at all. I
found myself facing great discomfort and fears on a daily basis, singing,
acting, performing, and dancing in a way that I have never before allowed myself
to even try. In every aspect of being a part of this project called a musical, I
was new, nervous, but at the same time very intrigued. For the first time in my
life, I felt myself growing. For the first time in my life, I felt myself
improving. From a trembling chorus girl in South Pacific to belting a high F as
Little Red Ridinghood in Into the Woods, my senior year, I could feel my entire
being growing stronger, my voice becoming more powerful, my dancing becoming
more stylish and creative. Out of my comfort zone, I most definitely was. But
into a world that was beautiful and new I was absorbed. I transferred from a
world of predictability and comfort to a world filled with ups and downs, peaks
and valleys, torture and exuberance. A world from which, I know now, I will
never be able to leave.
Although today I do not fear the idea of singing, acting and dancing in a
musical the way that I did 5 years ago, the great feelings of challenge, hard
work, and accomplishment are always a huge part of every show I perform in.
This dive out of my comfort zone greatly affected my personal life just as much
as it has affected me as a performer. Entering into the theater world has
changed my entire outlook on life. Before, change was a daunting shadow filled
with uncertainly and doom. Now I see change as simply a new opportunity to grow
and improve. Before the idea of not being one of the best is simply
incomprehensible. Now I crave for the chance to stare a challenge in the eye and
push myself beyond my wildest expectations.
Today I cannot imagine living my life anywhere other than outside of my comfort
zone. Theater has opened the doors to a wild, scary, yet exciting and beautiful
world. A world that I treasure, fear, love, and will never leave.
Carolyn Hughes, Age 19
(top)
I learned how to smile. I can
potentially sum up everything I’ve learned throughout my experience with theater
in that one simple phrase. Go ahead, laugh and predict this piece to be a
Carebear’s Sing-A-Long approach to theater, but looking back over my theatrical
challenges, I’ve found that nearly all of them could be conquered by truly
learning how to smile. However, I can’t claim all of the credit for this genius
discovery. The seeds of this philosophy were planted at the very first true
theater experience of my life. I know, cue the fog and flashback music….
It was my freshman year of High School when Bali Hai’ called me to the show,
character, and director that began it all. Lieutenant Cable in South Pacific is
more than a principal role to a freshman, it’s a Herculean endeavor. I went from
having never sung or acted in front of a large group of people, to belting B’s
and desperately trying to grasp a Nobel Peace Prize winning script. For those
first few weeks Lt. Cable was not the calm, dignified, youthful leading man he
should be, but an awkward, oblivious, petrified wreck trying to understand what
had inspired his director to take a risk on him. But it only took one output of
my director’s wisdom to snap me. It was my big love scene/ tenor ballad (piece
of cake for a rookie right?) and we had run through it at least ten times at my
tech rehearsal when my director stood up, walked onto the stage, and instilled
the fear of god in me. “Are you happy?” Some higher power kept me from dying on
the spot in reaction to his bellowing voice. “I can see your teeth but I can’t
tell you’re happy. You’re in love! You’re in ecstasy! You’re in heaven! So show
me what that is! Show a smile!”
After something like that you need a quick mental pep talk. I knew I couldn’t
mess up again. I knew I had to pull whatever he wanted from somewhere, and I
knew I had about 3 seconds to do it. And I guess this is the part of the
flashback where the timpani drums and flourish of instruments begin, because
what happened isn’t really explainable. I just did it. I began my song, and as I
sang all thoughts of the notes, words, rehearsing, blocking, microphones,
costumes, and set faded and I was left singing to the love of my life against a
gorgeous Polynesian sunset. The final high-notes came out with ease, but I
didn’t even notice. I stood motionless and confused, until I became aware of
that frightening silence following a scene where one is left to stare into the
black abyss of the auditorium and wait for that enigmatic voice to give you your
verdict. “Brian, I knew you could smile.” Sure, even I think it sounds somewhat
cheesy, but I promise you; if you look further into it you can find a philosophy
not only for theater, but for life.
I learned how to smile. I learned to use theater as an escape from all the
burdens life can throw at you. When performing, I’m not Brian Wright, bogged
down with homework, balancing a job, or finding a date. I’m Lieutenant Cable,
Jean Valjean, Cowboy # 4. Theater gives an opportunity to travel to unimaginable
places and experience them through the eyes of someone else. For the few hours
of rehearsal or performance, my troubles vanish beneath the fluorescent lights,
and I am left to discover a new and exciting world.
I learned how to smile. In depth analysis of characters and plots taught me to
stop and think about the issues at hand for my character. Though he may be upset
or distraught, there is usually a glimmer of hope in the distance, something
driving him forward. I am now able to carry this through into my personal life.
When life seems near unbearable, I can stop, take a step back, and realize that
there are many sources of happiness that I am closing my eyes to. I can now tell
myself that soon this “scene” will be over, and smile.
I learned how to smile. After performances of Les Miserables I had numerous
people approach me and tell me that I truly moved them. That they had been going
through a lot lately and for those few brief hours they were able to forget
those troubles, that I taught them a lesson on life. I had no idea that while
participating in something so truly fulfilling for me, I could also be helping
to do the same for others. Now I’m able to see the beauty of theater. When
performing, I am not only taking part in something that brings me such
happiness, I am potentially bringing a much needed smile to the face of someone
in the audience.
I learned how to smile. One of my director’s most frequent sayings was to live
in the moment. Over the course of my theater experience thus far, I’ve learned
to dissect and recognize all of the important moments my character experiences.
I’ve realized that a play is no more than a collection of vital moments, each
adding in some way to the plot and development of the characters. I have applied
this direction, above all, to my life. I am now able to stop and realize when
something is truly beautiful, rather than breezing past it while keeping to a
busy schedule. I can appreciate the importance of a laugh, a cry, or even a
casual exchange of hellos. Every moment in one’s life, no matter how big or
small, how happy or sad, how obvious or discrete, adds to his character
development. Stephen Sondheim writes “oh if life were made of moments, even now
and then a bad one. But if life were only moments, then you’d never know you had
one.” I can smile knowing that I can now identify when these moments arise, and
truly appreciate them.
The world today can be a frightening place. War, pollution, crime, etc. can
easily cause cynicism amongst people. However, if everyone were able to stop and
truly learn to understand the brevity of life, and learn how to smile and enjoy
all of the good around us, perhaps all of the evil would eventually wither away.
Perhaps you’re thinking that this is bogus, idealistic, fluff, and that theater
has given me an overly positive outlook on life. Is that really such a bad
thing? I’d rather be idealistic than negative any day. Theater brings people
together, supplies an escape from the often burdensome reality of life, and
teaches how to look beyond those burdens and see the good and the beauty in
everything. And I now smile knowing that I am one of the fortunate few beginning
to understand that.
Brian Wright, Age 19
(top)
Some forms of art seek to express
life—music, painting, and sculpture all fall into this category. Other forms of
art, such as photography and cinematography, seek to capture life for future
projection. Theater, however, is unique, in that it is life. It is life, in all
its splendor and temporality. In it’s dependence on community, in its drama… in
its occasional hopes, and in its occasional cynicism. The stories of theater can
be adapted for the big screen, but something is always lost in translation… a
little bit of life! Your favorite movies will remain the same, time after time.
As you get older, you’ll inevitably get more out the movie, but the content
itself will remain the same. Your favorite show, however, is never the same
twice. Nuances of line delivery, sets, the talent of directors, actors,
actresses, costume designers, musicians, etc… the fate of a show, whether an
individual production of a show lives or dies, depends on the efforts and
understandings of the people behind it. It has no false hopes for immortality:
even if a phenomenal script survives, there’s never a guarantee that the quality
of the original production will be matched at any point in the future. An old
man who’s been dragged to Les Miserables four times by his wife might, on his
fifth attendance, be caught by a slight intonation of one of Valjean’s lines,
read by a particular actor on a particular night, and get goose bumps. The sixth
time he might excitedly enter the theatre, expecting a similar line-delivery,
and leave utterly frustrated with the production (“Why such a poor delivery…
That kid must’ve not known what the line meant. But how’s that possible? Hasn’t
he ever had a comparable experience? Why, when I lived in the city…”). The
chemistry of any given night can make or break a show, just as the chemistry of
a night can make or break a marriage or a friendship. Theatre, then, is simply a
reflection of life. No chemistry is promised when an audience enters the
theatre. They must wait, and hope, and see. To successfully capture an audience,
several aspects of a play must live. The script must be alive (with either humor
or truth), the director must have an accurate understanding of that script’s
life, and the actors, as long as they are on the stage, must have the lives of
other people. They left their own lives somewhere outside the theatre—in their
cars, next to their laptops, with their kids (or with their parents), with their
problems and cares. I’m sounding escapist, though, when that’s not always the
case. Actors only leave their own personal problems at home so that their hands
will be free to take on someone else’s problems once they get backstage.
Dominic Vallone, Age 18
(top)
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