Thank You, Everyone

One week ago, “Stage Lights” opened at the Theatre Building Chicago to roaring laughter, a few tears and a standing ovation. It was a thrilling moment in one of the most thrilling weekends of my life. On Sunday afternoon, after five terrific performances, the show closed once again to warm applause. The cast and crew struck our set in record time, moved our last set pieces and props out of the theater and spent the night drinking, dancing, and celebrating our accomplishment and each other.

I have had almost a week to collect my thoughts about this whole experience, in particular the last week of production and performances, which was stressful, agonizing, filled with doubt and devoid of sleep for Jessie, Alexis and myself. It was a roller-coaster ride, but it ended with a show I am extraordinarily proud of. It ended, indeed, with one of my dearest dreams coming true.

Anyone who has read this blog or knows me well is aware of how much “Stage Lights” has meant to me. You all know that I am an ardent admirer of Charlie Chaplin and that it has been my wish since boyhood to adapt his timeless films and his awe-inspiring artistry to the stage. Well, now I’ve done it – I have, with the help of so many remarkable people, made a dream a reality. I have submitted my humble homage to the theatre gods and to the spirit of Mr. Chaplin himself. I’ve done it. I smile as I type the words – I’ve done it.

And all I could do on Sunday night, in the presence of the collaborators that I have come to love as family, was think that this is what it feels like to win an Oscar. This is what it feels like to win the Super Bowl. This, right here, is what it feels like to have people see your passions displayed vulnerably, to share a chunk of yourself with others, to work for something with every fiber in your body, and to have them not only accept it, but be moved to laughter and tears by it. This is what it feels like to connect with people, to take something that has made me smile for fifteen years, channel it and see people smile back.

The victorious Blackhawks have nothing on me. I am the happiest man in Chicago this week.

It would be wrong to continue this post without thanking – from the bottom of my socks – the cast and crew of “Stage Lights.” Friends, you did more than honor me by working so hard during this show. Through your talent, hard work and unflappable dedication, you made me see something new in this project. You made me realize that this show was never really about Charlie Chaplin. It was about the awesome magic artists can create when passion and humility guide them. When an artist is blessed by that spark, when they explore an idea or a story with great love, audiences can be moved in extraordinary ways. Charlie Chaplin was one such artist. You, the ensemble of the Open Floor Theatre Company, are another. This show would have been impossible without each and every one of you. Thank you.

Thank you, also, to everyone who came out to see “Stage Lights.” The theatre was small, the budget modest, but you came out in full force and gave us energy every day and night. Through your laughter and applause, you proved to me, the ensemble and to yourselves that Chaplin’s masterful storytelling is still relevant, still startling. You proved that there was indeed something special about this man that will never die. Most of all, thank you for supporting an unknown theatre company and for matching our love for this project with yours. We are forever grateful.

Now, almost a week after my dream has come true, there is a terrifying, humbling sense of “now what?” I came here to Chicago to put up this show, and after much toil, it is complete. I have spent every day of my life here working in some way to put up “Stage Lights,” and now it is behind me.

So, what’s next? I don’t know yet. There may indeed be a future for “Stage Lights,” but what that will look like, I can’t say. Based on the overwhelming audience response, there is a good chance I will try to remount this show, but I probably won’t reprise the role of the Tramp, a role that will always be my favorite but that I must move away from if I am to grow as an actor.

I don’t know. For now, at least, the door is closed on “Stage Lights,” and thus, closed on this blog as well. This little journal has been an invaluable tool for me – it has helped me raise awareness for the show itself and it has afforded me the opportunity to collect my thoughts and temper my emotions.

Thank you to you, dear readers, for supporting me on this journey and listening to my ramblings. I hope you had as much fun as I did.

I will leave you with this request – watch Charlie Chaplin. Go to Blockbuster, log on to Netflix, go to your local library, or better yet, go to any theatre that has the good taste to show his films in their proper venue. The whole point of this project has been to reintroduce people to a great artist, a man who, despite his fame, is not treated with the respect and admiration that he still so richly deserves. As friends, acquaintances and strangers from around the world have shown me, Chaplin speaks to audiences in profound ways, through laughter and tears, loneliness and despair, hope and resilience. I smile to think of how he might speak to you.

Oh, and dreams do come true, by the way. They may not arrive the way you thought they might, and it make take a lot of time and elbow grease to do it, but they do come true. With any luck, though, those dreams realized will give you such satisfaction and peace that the rest of life seems a little easier in their wake. After that, the only thing you can do is go back out there and support the dreams of others, help make them come true. There is no greater expression of love or friendship than the support of human passion.

Thank you, everyone, for helping me express one of my passions. I eagerly await the opportunity to help you with yours. Until then, I waddle off into the sunset, twirling my cane, onward to the next great adventure.

- Jack

Opening Night

Good morning, dear readers -

Tonight at 8PM, Central Standard Time, a dream will come true. “Stage Lights” will open before a live audience at the Theatre Building Chicago.

I don’t know how to describe my feelings now. I’m certainly exhausted. The set, lighting design and tech rehearsals have made the last three days a real marathon – 17-hour days, no more than five hours of sleep a night, working at breakneck speed. It’s been a headache, and a nightmare at times, but it has been as joyful as possbile under the circumstances. My director and stage manager look like zombies, but they have never complained once and have worked hard to make sure this show is as good as it can be. I love these people.

And I love this show. I can’t wait to perform this dear little thing, this story I have wanted to tell since I was a little boy.

I hope to see you all there tonight. Until then, wish us the breaking of many legs.

- Jack

Round the Bend

15 hour tech rehearsal today. Most of the lighting done. A zillion set issues to work out. Some props and costumes to get. Projector to mount. Performances solid, at times stellar. Less than 72 hours to go.

I am tired. I am frustrated. I am confident. I am optimistic. I am loopy, droopy, disheveled and slightly mad. I have gone round the bend.

I have been dreaming about this show for eight years, and suddenly, there isn’t enough time.

Game on.

- Jack

Game On

Today, the cast of “Stage Lights” had its final rehearsal in the various cubby holes and basements of St. Luke’s Lutheran Church in Logan Square. Tonight, in the wee small hours of the morning, we move our traveling circus into the Theatre Building Chicago, where I hope to see all of you and many more for our opening night in four days (!).

It’s go time, sports fans. From the moment we get the keys to the theatre, we will have 24-hour access to the space, and we will use every minute of it to construct our sets, adjust our lights, perfect our performances and, I dunno, sprinkle the stage with holy water. Jessie, Alexis and I don’t plan on sleeping much, and when we do, it will likely be in sleeping bags on the stage.

Things are looking good. Updates will be daily from now until we close, but they will be short and most likely full of the roller coaster emotions I will be experiencing as my little dream show stirs to life.

Here we go, boys and girls. Let’s do this thing!

- Jack

Sweet Music

A couple days ago at rehearsal, something amazing happened. We were rehearsing the final scene of “Stage Lights,” in which the Tramp says his goodbyes to his two new friends – Max the strong man and the Gamine, the woman who stole and broke his heart. Max and the Gamine are married now, something that tortures the Tramp for much of the story, but he has seen how true their love is and how much they must be together. The Gamine says goodbye but can’t contain her emotions. She starts to cry. The Tramp leans toward her, lifts her dampened cheek and gestures, simply: “smile.” She does. They newlyweds exit, and the Tramp walks off into the sunset. End play.

It’s a moment that draws significantly from the endings of three of Charlie Chaplin’s greatest films – City Lights, Modern Times and The Circus. It’s a moment that means more to me as a Chaplin fan, a writer and a perfomer than any other moment in the show. Still, I was ready for it, and I looked forward to playing it with gusto that day.

We rehearsed it once, and it was fine. I felt confident, Alexis was great, job well done all around. Jessie, our director, agreed. Then she turned back to Scott Borchert, our musical director who will provide live music to accompany the entire show. She gave him some direction and told us to run the scene again, this time with music.

When we did, the scene completely changed. Scott’s “love theme” trickled softly through the rehearsal room and melted away everything we did during the previous go-around. There was a new stillness and poignancy to the scene that genuinely startled me. And when it came time to gesture “smile” to Alexis, I felt like a little kid again. I gestured “smile,” and tears welled up in my eyes. Scott had shifted seamlessly from his own music into the classic love theme from Modern Times, the song “Smile.” I have heard that song a million times, but never like the way Scott played it that night. For a second, it took me to a beautiful place, a comfortable place, a place I knew. I finished the scene, full of warmth and light.

Scott is a wonderful man. He’s an accomplished musician, talented, funny, charming and passionate about classic film. And he knows his way around a good bottle of whiskey. My kind of people.

And to this lovely man we have given the hardest job in this production – to write and perform over an hour’s worth of music that is melodic, true to the period and yet timeless. It must comment on shifts in the action, sometimes alarmingly swift shifts. To top it off, he has to work with a director and a writer who don’t speak the language of music all that well. Typical direction from Jessie: “Play the Tramp’s theme with a hint of joy, mix in the Gamine’s love theme and make it sort of melancholy.” I would expect any self-respecting pianist to throw his sheet music in the air and storm out in frustration. But Scott just nods, smiles, and plays exactly that.

Everyone involved with “Stage Lights” is trying to find clarity in similarly complex ideas. Silent theater is not easy, and this show requires us to juggle comedy, emotions (and even a few literal juggling pins) concisely, effortlessly and with truth. All in silence.

We have one more week to find the right notes to play. This ensemble is just a hair away from making this show a sight to see. And I mean a sight to see.

- Jack

The Rehearsal Process

In about two weeks, “Stage Lights” will open at the Theatre Building here in Chicago. After years of dreaming and months of planning, it is finally happening.

I apologize for not updating more frequently. With work and the countless moving parts of this show to look after, I haven’t had much time to reflect, let alone write. So much has happened in the last month that I don’t really know where to begin. However, the first thought that comes to mind is this:

I love this cast. I love this crew. I love everyone and everything about this rehearsal process, something that rarely happens during the production of a show. Theatre is an artistic process, and assumedly, should always be full of dreams, exploration, connection and applause. But, more often than not, working on a show is just that – work. Yes, this particular show has been at times stressful and time-consuming, but as a whole, it has been very pleasant. “Stage Lights” has been nothing but a joy so far, and that is worth noting.

I am constantly humbled by how much passion this cast has brought to their roles and the play as a whole. They certainly did not need to, and matching my own passion for this project is a tall order indeed. But here we are, six weeks into the rehearsal process and every cast member has come to each meeting full of ideas, energy and immeasurable talent.

Take Billy Fenderson, for example, the brilliant actor playing Max, the strongman. I worried while writing the script that Max would come off as flat, uninteresting or, worse, a cheap plot device. But Billy brings something to Max that I could never have written – a soul. He cares about Max and works meticulously to flesh out every corner of the character. I can’t wait for you to see this man’s face – bright and eager, yet with Max’s true self groaning under the weight of his celebrity. Watch his performance on June 3rd, and you may be lulled into the belief that I am a very good writer.

I could go on and on. I could rhapsodize about Niq Tognoni’s impish smile, Jim McDoniel’s flawless comic timing, Gabby Cauchon’s boundless energy, Gabe Smith’s rare stage presence, Stephanie Kalil’s alluring grace, Susan Steinke’s unflappable stone face, Bethany Hedden and DeChantel Kasmatka’s understanding of what poise and sass really are. And Alexis Buryk? Simply the most talented physical actress I have ever seen.

They make me feel relaxed. They give me my second wind, and they replenish my confidence in this material every day.

Anyway, just wanted you to know that. More frequent updates to come, for there is a lot more to say. In my next post, I have to tell you about Scott, our music director. If you are able to come see “Stage Lights,” I guarantee that he’ll be the first thing to knock your socks off.

- Jack

The Most Famous Man in the World, Part II

Yes, Charlie Chaplin is famous. Yes his films, made in a particular time and place, have resonated throughout the world and the past century and have touched a countless number of people. One does not need to travel far to see the breadth and depth of his influence.

But why is he so famous? What was it about this man, this artist, that still captures our fascination? Was it simply that he was funny? Was it merely that he made us laugh and cry? Or was it something more?

When Charlie Chaplin began his career in movies more than a hundred years ago, he was simply a vaudeville talent. The only thing remarkable about him was that American movie producer Mack Sennett thought that Chaplin played the best comic drunk he ever saw. He appeared in a few Keystone Cops comedy shorts, a bit player like any other. But then the people started to notice him. The American working class (who were the primary movie-going audience at the time) began to go to motion pictures because they wanted to see that funny little fellow named Charlie. And, almost overnight, Chaplin became a household name.

There was something about him, something that people had never seen before. Look at his first outing as the Tramp character, a short film called “Kid Auto Races.” In it, the Little Fellow tries to steal focus from the film’s main subject, a children’s go-cart race. The camera tries to pan away from him, but the Tramp keeps sneaking into frame, eager to be on film. He is blustery, confident, and perhaps a little drunk. He puffs at a cigarette hungrily and tries to look dashing for his impromptu big screen debut. Chaplin does very little in these sequences – just some comic posturing and a few prat falls – but he immediately owns the screen. He makes you laugh just by the way he stands. And even though the Tramp is ruining every shot, you are somehow comforted by his presence. You can’t help but smile.

The character from “Kid Auto Races” was so popular that Chaplin rarely appeared again in a motion picture without that signature costume. Over the years, Chaplin developed a personality to go with the hat, cane and moustache. Sure, plenty of other talented comics, on stage and screen, had healthy careers playing tramp clowns, but Chaplin’s struck a chord with audiences. His struggle against his own poverty and the world’s rejection of him was honest. It seemed real, even in the hyperbolic world of slapstick comedy. Every joke seemed motivated, as if parts of this man existed both in our world and the ethereal world of the movies. Combined with Chaplin’s flawless comic timing, the Tramp became an instant sensation.

It is hard to imagine that Chaplin would have had as much success as a comedian if he had not invented the Tramp character. He may have had a fat career playing other roles, but the specificity of the Tramp made him indelible. He birthed a character that people could follow through countless adventures, and that, more importantly, people could identify with.

It begins, I think, with the fact that the Tramp has dignity. Other comedians were willing to sacrifice a character’s core humanity for the sake of a funny gag. Chaplin simply refused. The Tramp, he felt, had a moral center, and even if he stole, flirted with another man’s wife, or kicked a policeman in the rear, it was only because he had to, or that he was so innocent hat he didn’t know the difference. Even in a world that existed to persecute people like the Tramp, simple people trying to get by or have a little fun, he faced their scorn with a resolute sense of self, the knowledge that he was a man who deserved better. It is often said that the Tramp is a hobo with the manners of a gentleman. Chaplin’s stroke of genius was that this fact informed everything the Tramp ever did.

People responded to that dignity. They saw themselves in it, no matter what their own hardships were. More than any other comedian, Chaplin’s Tramp spoke to a vulnerability within all of us, and inspired us to both be honest with ourselves about that vulnerability and to seek to conquer it.

This is most evident in films where the Tramp falls in love. I think imediately of City Lights and the truth of the Tramp’s love for the blind flower girl. Any other comic would use that situation as an excuse to set up a few gags. Chaplin, instead, takes a step back and works hard to establish the honesty of that love, the power of the moment when you first see that pretty girl. The gags that follow are inspired by that honesty, the heartache that the blind girl makes him feel. Chaplin, like only a few great comic actors over the past century, knew that truly great comedy comes from emotional openness, the bravery to show people as they really are.

Look at that scene in City Lights when the Tramp first meets the blind girl. It is funny, yes, but only because the Little Fellow is so completely taken by this woman in so many ways – that she is beautiful, that she is innocent, and maybe that she is fragile and ignored, as he is. Chaplin plays the scene entirely from within, not mugging for the audience, but playing the truth of the moment. We root for the Tramp not because he is funny, but because he genuinely falls in love. The fleeting moments of love in his performance stay with us, even during the high-concept gags. Like any great piece of art, it is not the most well-known parts that touch us, but the little things, the spaces in between.

Falling in love, standing up to authority, searching for the right to live and create – these are things that people all over the world and throughout time have experienced and yearned for, and these are the things Chaplin explores in his work. That’s why he is so beloved, so famous. He was an exceptionally funny man that sought the truth, and he was one of the few artists who ever found it on film, time and time again. The truth in individual struggle and in human connection – that’s what Chaplin captured, and that’s what people everywhere will always search for, for as long as there are people.

Artists always seek to find human truth, in comedy, in drama, in painting, in music, in life. And every homage to Chaplin that exists today, whether it’s people trying to duplicate his walk or films that tell love stories as elemental as his, is rooted in the fact that Chaplin found that truth and shared it with us.

Ultimately, no one can know what it was about Charlie Chaplin that keeps us coming back to the Tramp and his comic adventures. That is the transient, inexplicable nature of genius. But, whatever it was, it is contained forever on film, in the simplicity of his stories, the ingenuity of his jokes, and the purity of his smile. What we do know is that the Tramp still excites us after a hundred years and will continue to do so for as long as his likeness can still flutter from his cameras and into our lives.

- Jack

The Most Famous Man in the World, Part I

The Chaplin Fan Club in Adipur, India

Today, my friend Kathleen sent me an article about a small village called Adipur. It is a tiny place in India’s salt plains with a population of less than 100,000 people. You have never heard of it before, and there is no reason why you should have. And yet, Adipur has one claim to fame: it is home to more Charlie Chaplin impersonators than anywhere else in the world.

Every year since 1973, thousands of Indian men celebrate April 16th, Chaplin’s birthday, by dressing up like the Little Tramp. They don bowler hats, bamboo canes, baggy suits and toothbrush mustaches. They have contests to see who can walk like Charlie. They hold screenings of The Gold Rush. They sing, dance, hold parades and perform skits.

But the people of Adipur are more than just Chaplin fans. They identify with him and his Tramp character more deeply than any other figure, from this world or the next. In Adipur, Chaplin is worshipped like a god. There are prayers and chants dedicated to him, and there are times when his likeness is worshipped alongside the Hindu god Krishna. One Chaplin impersonator remarks, “Our God Krishna, what did He do? He made people happy! After all it is God’s job to keep people happy. But Charlie gave people joy by acting. That’s why I pray to him: He’s my God!”

How could an English comic who made movies in America almost a century ago spark such passion today in as unlikely a place as Adipur?

Australian filmmaker Kathryn Millard journeyed to the village to explore just that in her film, “The Boot Cake.” She found that Chaplin does more than make the people of Adipur laugh – he speaks to them, inspires them, and represents their hardships.

“Sometimes I feel that Charlie Chaplin is inside me,” says another impersonator. “We have had the same life – the same struggle. Struggle to live, struggle to eat, Struggle to walk, struggle to take the train.”

That is why the centerpiece of Adipur’s annual Chaplin festival is a cake baked in the shape of a boot, an homage to the famous moment in The Gold Rush when the starving Tramp boils and eats his own shoe for sustinance. To me, that was always just a funny scene from a funny movie, but to these Chaplin devotees, it is a treatise on the bitterness of poverty.

Whether it’s Adipur, New York City, London, Tokyo, Toronto, Rio, Jerusalem or Bangkok, one thing has been made startlingly clear to me as I endeavor to bring Chaplin’s work to the stage: there is not a single corner of the world in 2010 that does not know who Charlie Chaplin is.

It’s not hyperbole to say that Charlie Chaplin – or his Tramp character, at least – may be the most famous man in the history of the modern world. He was the original movie star, the first international celebrity, the first movie actor that everyone in the Western world could identify by name. With the advent of television and home video, his audience only expanded, even to places like Adipur.

Of course, it wasn’t just that movies allowed Chaplin to play to the largest of all crowds. The technology of motion pictures can present an artist to the world, but it is up to the artist to capture their attention. And Chaplin captured them like no other artist before or since. The purity of his comedy, the elemental nature of his storytelling, and his ability to convey the truth of human experience in any language made him an icon. It speaks to the astounding achievement of a single artist that the silhouette, the mere shape of the Tramp character, is instantly recognizable no matter where you are or what language you speak.

But it is more than recognition. People don’t just recognize the Tramp when they see him – they feel something. They laugh, yes, but they also have a powerful emotional connection to him. To some, he speaks as a philosopher or a poet, to others he is a working man who knows what it means to struggle. A hundred years later, we still root for the Tramp. We see our own search for adventure, shelter, food and meaning in life in his. And the fact that he has made people feel this way for a hundred years only makes the emotional connection stronger.

When I first discovered Charlie Chaplin, I thought I was the only one. His films were old and different, and I figured that my admiration for him was only shared by a handful of silent movie buffs. Then I started to travel, and without looking for Charlie, I found him everywhere. I found him at a bar in Greenwich Village that only plays Chaplin shorts on its half-dozen TV screens. I found him in the subways of London, where every b-boy knew a splay-footed dance move called “The Charlie.” I found him in Vevey, Switzerland, where an a entire village devoted its decor to images from his films.

I found him in Palestine, where a newly opened movie theater boasted a still photo from The Kid on its marquee. I asked the owner why he chose Chaplin to represent his theatre. He said, in Arabic, “Chaplin described The Kid as a ‘a movie with a smile and perhaps a tear.’ That is how I feel about the Palestinian way of life.’”

Since I started writing “Stage Lights,” friends and acquaintances have told me of their own Chaplin experiences from around the world. Danny told me of an Indian scholar who was a rabid Chaplin fan. Heather took a picture of Chaplin’s image embroidered on a handbag in Amsterdam. Fadil told me about the fondness people have for “Sharlo” in Istanbul. Melanie sent me a photo of a Tramp float from a parade in rural Italy.

It is bewildering to think that so many people can share so much love and respect for the work of one man. Not just recognition of his character, not just the knowledge of his fame, but an affection for his work and an emotional and, at times, spiritual bond with his stories.

And it is comforting to know that I could put up “Stage Lights” anywhere in the world, and people would approach it with the same kind of enthusiasm that I put into it.

What a remarkable thing. A young man in Chicago and a young man in Adipur both put on a dusty bowler hat in an effort to make people smile. And all because of one man, Charlie Chaplin, the most famous man in the world.

- Jack

Poster!

Introducing the poster for “Stage Lights”! Featuring the back of my head!

How official!

Apologies for the poor resolution, my computer is being silly.

Many thanks to photographer/producer/actor/secret crush Alexis Buryk!

- Jack

Letting Go

And so, after three rounds of auditions, many production meetings and more pre-production tidbits than you can imagine, “Stage Lights” has a team. We have a set designer, a lighting designer, a stage manager and, most importantly, an ensemble of incredible young performers.

Last night, a few of us went out for drinks to get to know each other before we plunge into the rehearsal process. It was a wonderful time. After discussions of Chaplin, theater, and more than a few astrology books, I felt at ease – these were the quirky, talented, smart people we had been waiting for.

But something hit me last night that I had not anticipated. What was once just a fanboy’s dream, locked inside my imagination, is now a real thing, about to be given life and shape by over a dozen people, many of whom I’ve only just met.

It’s a little scary to have something that means so much to me – a full-scale tribute to my favorite performer, Charlie Chaplin – suddenly leave my hands and be embraced by others. It’s not unlike having your child grow into maturity, leave the nest, and start out on its own. I have dreamed about this project in my head for almost all of my young life. And now, in a sense, I have to let go.

Believe me, I am not worried about how the cast and crew of “Stage Lights” will handle this undertaking. If you pick the right people to help you along a journey, both you and the project will emerge far better and more meaningful than you yourself ever imagined. Last night, I met a team that is just as passionate about this project as I have always been. And for that, I am thankful, excited and, yes, relieved.

I realize now that, so far on this blog I have never mentioned the kind of theater that Jessie (our director) and Alexis (our producer) do. Our company is called the Open Floor, and it is now, as it was in New York where it began, a group dedicated to ensemble theater, a collaborative process that champions a group’s development of a story, rather than the single imagination of one writer or director.

In the past, the Open Floor has adapted fairy tales and myths to tell relevant, modern stories. How those stories come to be full theatrical productions depends entirely on the ensemble cast – we sit in rooms for weeks, talking about the source material, debating its meaning, sharing our unique ideas and feelings. From that open discussion, always, come characters, a story and a vision that no single ensemble member could have created on his or her own. Our own personal stories are celebrated, challenged and shaped by one another, so that they are united into a single vision. Once we coalesce our story, we write it down, rehearse it and perform.

That is the process we will bring to “Stage Lights.” But, of course, this story is a little different, because this time we have a script – my script, which comes from one little boy’s singular passion for Charlie Chaplin. It has three main characters, rather than a starless ensemble of many, and less of the plot is subject to change. And, in some ways, the vision is already set – in the end, this play must be true to Chaplin and his universe – so that the ensemble does not have as much of a say over a few aspects of the story. The Tramp, after all, must be the Tramp.

The “Stage Lights” team knows this, but we still want this to be an ensemble production. We want our company to breathe life into this piece, to shape it according to their ideas and talents. We want this vision to be as much theirs as it is mine. It will be a challenge to strike this balance, between one guy’s vision and the creative energy of a collective, but that is what we have set out to do, because that’s the way we think theater should be done.

A key step toward making “Stage Lights” a true ensemble production is my first step as a writer. I have to let go of my baby. This is something I have to do – and more importantly something that I really want to do – but that doesn’t make the first step any easier. If I’m being honest, there is a part of me that wants to keep this whole project to myself. Chaplin means so much to me that I just want to keep “Stage Lights” locked away as my own little plaything, away from others who might seek to change it. If I keep it to myself, or if I exert absolute creative control, it will stay the way I want, and my dream will become my reality.

But what good would that do? What is a song if its composer forbade it to be sung? And why be afraid of collaboration and change? Why not submit something you love to the loving embrace of wonderful people, whose unbiased eyes can see extraordinary things in it that you cannot see? Why hoard away a passion for something when you can share it with others? Am I suddenly the only one who can translate Chaplin to the stage?

After last night, these questions are now answered. I have taken the first step toward making this dream a reality by realizing this: Charlie Chaplin and his works are not my possessions. His films were not made for me. He is not family, I have no personal relationship with him, and his genius is not mine to protect. Chaplin made his films for everyone, and although his film set was not a democracy, he vulnerably shared himself, his joys, his fears and his sorrows with everyone, regardless of country, color or language. And his legacy was not just built by him, but by the millions of people across the world and the past century who continuously celebrate him. I am not his keeper – I am just another person he inspired.

I want this show to inspire others, too. And I cannot do it alone – no one can. It will take many strong shoulders, stronger than mine, to bear the weight of Chaplin’s genius. The complexity and startling immediacy of his work needs, desperately needs, an egoless ensemble to come alive. This show is like the famous scene from Modern Times, where the Tramp is coiled through the innards of a great machine. As ensemble members, we are the cogs that carry Chaplin through our minds to an audience, each one of us connected to each other, each one of us holding the great man aloft.

And so, I submit my play “Stage Lights” to the unbelievable talents of the Open Floor Theatre Company.  Together, we will make something exciting out of it that none of us can yet see. Without you, this show is nothing more than a little boy staring wide-eyed at a flickering movie screen.

I also submit it to you, potential audience members. Hopefully, you will share this show with us and add your energy to the story.

And as I let go of my possession over “Stage Lights,” I know that I am actually embracing it as I never have before.

So, come on, ya’ll. Let’s have some fun.

- Jack