An Adult Position

I had a dilemma while purchasing my ticket for TheatreLab Dayton’s Spring Awakening. The seats I would prefer – up close to the stage – were labeled as a “student section,” and while I could argue that I’m constantly learning, I am fifty years old this year and pretty distant from any sort of formal student status. So, instead of breaking a perceived rule that might lead to an uncomfortable conversation upon arrival at the theatre, I chose a seat that was in the traditional theatre-seat section. You know, like an adult.

But what that did was create distance between me and the stage. I like to sit close. Part of that is because I am easily distracted. And part of it is because I like to pretend that it’s just me and the performers on stage having a moment. I don’t like being too far back.

I’ve written over half a dozen reviews of Spring Awakening in the decade and a half that I’ve covered theatre. It’s my favorite show of all time. I struggle with finding something new to say.

So, maybe I needed some distance in order to write this piece.

Usually, I’ve been focused on the story of Wendla and Melchior, and the character arcs of Moritz and Ilse and Martha and Hänschen and Ernst and the rest — the teenagers navigating adolescence with virtually no parental oversight or support.

But from a distance, today I reflected on the grownups in this show.

Robin Shank played the Adult Women and Tyler Kirk played the Adult Men. Mother, father, teachers, doctor, pastor — and they were excellent. Every word of their difficult dialogue was clear — they maximized both the comedy and the cruelty across the show. Watching them, I understood the structure more clearly than ever.

Adulthood in this show isn’t a person. It’s a position.

Every adult in Spring Awakening is afraid. Afraid of what the children might discover, who they’re becoming, what they might say out loud to challenge their comfort. The rules, the punishments, the doctrine — it’s all just fear.

I have never seen myself in Melchior, and I never really related to Moritz. If anything, I’m somewhere between Hänschen and Ernst. Hänschen, a little too full of himself, a little domineering, willing to manage people to get what he wants. Ernst, the soft one, who underneath it all just wants to be loved. He says he wants to be a country pastor; I literally attended Bible College.

I’m both of those boys.

Griffin Greear played Hänschen fearlessly. Professional, locked in, and unafraid of what the role asks – and it asks a lot. Hunter Gee gave Ernst the innocence the role requires, and together their chemistry was magnetic.

CCM grad Philip Drennen’s direction felt intentional and clear; a first-timer could follow it all with ease. Not every choice served the story — some blocking, the mic stand handling, and an inflated ensemble slowed the momentum. And the song tempos dragged, losing the driving pace of Duncan Sheik’s score. But the cast was excellent. Elliot Chilcote (Melchior), Maggie Weckesser (Wendla), Luca Meyers (Moritz), and Greear were especially watchable. Aaron Hill’s (Georg) vocals gave me goosebumps. And I thought the number, “My Junk,” was as audacious as I’ve ever seen it.

But it was the adults who captured my attention today.

I’ve been an adult for a very long time. But turning fifty has made it feel more real. More official, somehow. I just hope I never get so detached from youth that I become afraid. I hope I don’t lose my curiosity, my empathy, my sense of self-discovery.

I wonder what I’ll discover the next time I see this show. What lens will I see it through?

Next time, though, I’ll sit closer.

TheatreLab Dayton is producing an entire season of coming-of-age shows. More information can be found here.

Kirk Sheppard is a proud member of the American Theatre Critics/Journalists Association. He writes about Cincinnati theatre—but mostly about being human. Check out kirksheppard.com for more information.