The View from Row A: Tales of a Deaf Theater Aficionado

"Why do you do it?" That question greets me every time I meet someone and share my theater going history with them. They are referencing to the pitfalls and frustrations that have accumulated over the years as a diligent and loyal theater patron.



I would then sigh and glance up at the scrim covering the stage before the show starts. "When I'm in my seat with a Playbill in hands, the lights are about to dim and the curtain goes up - then I know why."

Skeptical, they would raise an eyebrow and share a fake-nod of understanding.

Let me explain.

I'm a theater aficionado. My specialty is musical theater despite the fact that I am Deaf. Nevertheless, the world of song and dance has always had an attraction to me, and that has been clear since the first time I went to the theater.

It was January 1, 1993. I was six years old, and about to accompany my mother and grandmothers to a performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat starring Donny Osmond at the Chicago Theater. Back then, sign language interpreters weren't seen at the theater nor had stage captioning been invented.

 Instead, my mother got a copy of the script from someone whose daughter was in the show as well as the audio recording. She sat me down and interpreted the songs in between reading the blocks of dialogue in the script. It is one of the earliest things I remember reading, even at six. That became my procedure for attending a show - get the script, memorize it as much as possible, and wear out tapes and CDs of the musical productions as part of aural rehabilitation. Even today, I don't dare go to a show 'cold' as I have found that I enjoy it less when I do.

I didn't see my first interpreted Broadway tour until 2007 in Minneapolis with the touring production of Disney's The Lion King. In between Joseph and Lion King, I must have seen at least a hundred shows. All without interpreters or captioning. How did I ever manage it?

There's been the production of Annie where my classmates and I were asked to leave the show on account of being 'distracting'. (The school interpreter failed to show up for the field trip, and my sixth grade classmates took it onto themselves to interpret the show.)

Or the time where I was nearly kicked out of Aida for 'recording' the show when in fact I was using a tiny penlight to read the script by as the theater either couldn't - or won't - provide an interpreter.

What about the 30 times I saw The Sound of Music, having memorized the film version and knew nothing of the stage version aside from the songs? It wasn't until years later did I pick a script up for the show did I read the dialogue and see how they varied from the film version, which I had memorized word-for-word.

 (The captioning on my VHS copy of the film literally wore off and I did not notice it until pointed out by a Deaf friend).

The shows added up - Bye Bye Birdie, Grease, Peter Pan, countless productions of Annie and Joseph and Sound of Music,. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. Hello Dolly. Carousel and Oklahoma and nearly every single Rodgers and Hammerstein musical. The Scarlet Pimpernel.

My secret weapon during that time? Find a show where I knew someone in the cast, ask them for a copy of the script, oftentimes heavily annotated with blocking notations and notes from the director, and arm myself with with a flashlight. I became a loyal patron of select summer stock theaters where half of the cast knew me and would eagerly anticipate my visit. When I showed up, I would be treated to a first-class seat in the front center, where an actor's own script and a flashlight would be laid upon the seat. Sometimes there would be a handwritten copy of the pre-show announcements as well as the lyrics to any pre-show performances.

While the roadhouses that hosted touring shows turned down my request for a script or an interpreter, the summer stock theaters and regional theaters took it into their hands to provide what they could - scripts, free tickets, better seats at lower prices, flashlights, pre-show stage tours - whatever they could give, given their limited budgets and expertise.

Instead of complaining about what I- or they- didn't have, I chose to focus on what they could share, and what I could give back in exchange. Can't afford an interpreter? Okay - how about a script? Could I sit up front at a lower price? Sure - no problem. Want to go backstage and meet the cast so you know who's who during the show? Great! How about joining us actors up on stage for a pre-show performance of "Seasons of Love" from Rent? Yes, of course!

When there's a will - there's a way.

And then I moved to Minnesota and quickly embraced the world of accessible theaters - where many theaters at the Broadway touring production level down to the regional theaters and even high school theaters provided interpreters and/or captioning.

Yet I missed the interaction with the actors who would bend over backwards to accommodate accessibility requests. Instead, I worked with the Box Office and Front of House and became friends with the ticket managers and house managers. They were the ones I turned to for best seating options and scripts (sadly without annotations nor blocking notations, which meant I had to work harder in following along).

Even with the seemingly unlimited options of shows to pick from and the promise of an interpreter or two, or captioning, or script (or all three), there were the occasional clunker moments.

I've had my share of going head-to-head with inept interpreters who shouldn't be in the field of theater interpreting, been to shows where the interpreter wasn't adequately lighted, nor could the interpreters hear the show behind them. There were the occasional show where I got the suspicious eye from an usher for reading along to a script and flashlight. Being regaled to the last row so I wouldn't distract anyone. Even shows where the interpreters failed to show up, captioning ceased to function correctly, missing pages from the script and so on.

Let's not forget the fact that I have yet to make it to a show on Broadway in NYC. That's a story for another day.

But know what? That parallels to the idea that theater is live, and a changing entity. Of course things go wrong - and they can - and it is up to us, the actors, the audience, the crew, and everyone involved, to go with the flow to ensure the show goes on.

 It's all part of the experience that makes the show. We could bemoan the missed moments of dialogue, curse the lighting operator, shoot daggers at whoever hired the interpreter, or throw the handheld captioning down in disgust - or we could take those experiences and turn them into learning and/or educating moments - and if nothing else, they become fodder for great stories.

"Did I tell you about the time I went to this show and there was..."

So - the answer to the question  - why do I put up with so much just to see a show? All that hard work and not much satisfaction? Why is it worth going to show if one might experience setbacks or frustrations?

Well, I do my part, get the script, read it, memorize it. Listen to the audio recording until I've got the songs down pat. Then I get to my seat, read my Playbill, and wait for the curtain to go up. Anything that happens before that goes away once the curtain goes up and the show starts. From that moment on, anything that happens becomes a fringe benefit. A fringe benefit, indeed.

In between the horror stories, there have been heartwarming moments, sudden epiphanies, and chuckles.

There's the awesome interpreter duo who work off each other so well that they blend into the show.

The captioning guy who double-checks to make sure "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" is spelled correctly.

 The cheers and show of hands from the cast geared towards the interpreters during curtain call as they acknowledge their hard work.

 The occasional signed comment from a cast member, including an actor who announced to the ASL section that she was a CODA and instantly built a kinship with us.

The time where I was invited onstage to sing "For Good" with Kristin Chenoweth.

The chance encounters at the stage door when I run into an actor who can sign and we would hold lengthy conversations midst the screaming fans.

Somehow convincing the theater they needed to add a second interpreted performance to the limited run of a show, and having lighting strike twice.

Seeing favorite interpreters do one's favorite musicals.

Meeting famous actors and getting pictures taken with them.

Free tickets and being invited to the opening night parties.

And that is why I keep going to the theater.