It's like changing the background in the middle of the closing act. For all intensive purposes the play's the same and the audience is perhaps a bit thrown off, questioning such a discreet decision. But they're not the ones climbing. It's those players up on the stage that bear the brunt of the impact. Something laughably absurd, brought up as an afterthought at the end of rehearsal. A whisper, a giggle. But soon whispers take a stand and raise their voice, and giggles gain fervor. And by the time the show hits the stage, [background switch in the middle of Act III] is in the script, and, for lack of an unequivocal concern or opinion, those players on stage hold their duty to the audience and soldier on, trying not to mis-step at the moment of truth. Easier said than done. And the reviews are out.
It's a hit, and as we coast down from the summit, there's a sigh of relief from the crew and cast. Albeit, some sighs are heavier than others. And some sighs are not sighs at all, but instead shouts and bouts of laughter from the mouths of those who got the changed-background ball rolling, however inadvertent it may have been. Those of the whisper, of the giggle that are driving the pack mules home as we descend to the safety below the summit storms.
