FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE DARK
Inspired my Fierstein’s speech, I think it’s time we remember that the art we consume at night, especially parties, should always be about the audience, the dancers.
The Tony’s happened this past weekend in New York City and I though I didn’t watch it I was able to catch the highlights on socials. I was really touched by Harvey Fierstein’s acceptance speech for Lifetime Achievement award. I was fortunate enough to see him perform Edna Turnblad , the boisterous and big-hearted mother in the musical production of Hairspray, later performed by John Travolta in the movie adaptation of the Broadway musical. At that time, the show was just beginning its run on Broadway, and you could feel the infectious buzz of joy that was emanating from the audience. After the well deserved standing ovation during the curtain calls, the performers came out one las time to announce that for tonight’s show, they were raising money for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, an organization dedicated to helping those in the entertainment industry who are affected by the disease that decimated the arts community in the eighties and nineties. One of the auction prizes that night was an outgoing voicemail recording made by Harvey Fierstein. With
his undeniably iconic raspy voice, I remember this particular prize fetching a hefty donation for the organization.
I was too young when his plays Torch Song Trilogy were on the stage (which won two Tony Awards in 1982), but I later found a copy of the movie starring Matthew Broderick and Anne Bancroft when I was still trying to understand my own sexuality. Though it would be years before I could find the nerve to come out as gay, Torch Song Trilogy gave me a glimpse of what it meant to live authentically and whole heartedly.
What really touched me about his acceptance speech this past weekend was that one of the dedications he made was to the audience, the “people in the dark,” whom “without them I might as well be lip-syncing showtunes in my bedroom mirror.” It reminded me of the the documentary of Fran Lebowitz that Scorsese did a number of years ago in which she talks to him about the kind of New York audience and the pedigree of discerning theatre goers that were lost by the AIDS epidemic.
As I get older I think about my role as a consumer, someone who has chosen to make consuming art as part of my identity. As much as I have succumbed to the numbing of algorithms and doom scrolling, Fierstein and Lebowitz’s words remind me to be mindful of what I consume, that being an audience member, whether that mean attending a ballet or being a patron of a museum is an integral part of what makes art so valuable.
And I have to say, this also speaks to how I want to show up on the dance floor. Around the same time I saw Hairspray on Broadway I was going to clubs like The Roxy where I found the crowd both knowledgeable and critical about the music. Sure they were there to have fun, to experience some hedonism and get laid. But they also weren’t afraid to be judgemental, to call out a DJ when they didn’t like the mix, or be vocal about a DJs ability to move a crowd. I believe that this discerning ear from the crowd elevated a DJs performance quality and listening skills. It helped dictate where the party wanted to go and created nights that were built on the symbiotic relationship between DJ and dancers. It seems as though nowadays, as clubbers, we have become so accustomed to glorifying the DJ and attending parties as though they are concerts. Inspired my Fierstein’s speech, I think it’s time we remember that the art we consume at night, especially parties, should always be about the audience, the dancers.
