Extra-ordinary (the spoiler version)
On Pippin, ordinary lives, and saying goodbye to old dreams to find new ones
There are two versions of this weeks essay! Both essays are completely the same up until the end, where I discuss the end of the musical Pippin, which I would hate to spoil for you if you haven’t seen it! I learned this technique from who wrote two versions of the same essay for people who haven’t seen Everything Everywhere All at Once yet - like me! Thanks Tami!
This version has spoilers at the end. You’ve been warned! For the version with no spoilers, head back to my homepage here.
“Ordinary isn’t the lack of extraordinary. Ordinary is its whole other thing that has all of this beautiful cadence and rhythm and purpose and bond and magic.” - Amanda Doyle
In college, I wrote a short story centered around the musical, Pippin, in my ‘Process, Prose, and Pedagogy’ class. It’s one of the only assignments I’ve ever written without worrying about my grade very much. I forget what the prompt was - but it was definitely very open ended, because everyone in my class came up with something completely different.
Pippin is essentially the story of a young prince (named Pippin) looking for his life’s purpose. Throughout the show, Pippin explores various settings and roles, with the help of a traveling troupe of performers led by none other than the leading player him/herself (depending on what version you’re watching. Ben Vereen originated the role in 1972, and Patina Miller led the Broadway revival from 2013-2014.) The fourth wall is constantly broken throughout the show. It’s very meta; a play within a play, if you will. Ex: You’re told off the bat that the actor playing Pippin is a new actor making his debut in the show.
And if you’re looking for a full synopsis of Pippin, here you go. (Reminder, you will find any spoilers in this version of the essay. Head here to find the spoiler free version.)
My story, entitled, Stripping Down the Magic, is about a woman who goes to see a Pippin on Broadway, during her first trip back to New York since moving away. She gave up performing and moved to Chicago (remember that detail, it’s important!) with her partner. The woman has never seen the musical before, and is left fascinated and bewildered by the ending (which I was too, in real life, the first time I saw Pippin.) She replays the story in her head on the train ride home, while reflecting on her own life choices. Ultimately, she gains some peace and understanding of her decision to leave the actor's life behind for an ordinary life that she once rebuked and disdained.
Here’s an excerpt -
(Don’t be too critical, I was 19 when I wrote this! I’m sharing my teenage angst with you in short story form!)
I was going to be an actress. I was going to be a performer just like all the people on the stage in Pippin tonight, and all the other twenty something hopefuls in the city vying for parts. And it really did feel like my calling for a while…until it all just started getting so exhausting, and tedious, and it felt like work. I fell into this never ending circle of doubting myself and then having to convince myself that I was meant for this dream every day. That voice inside my head kept telling me “everyone doubts themselves on the way to the top, keep climbing, you’re talented, you’re good enough, you’ll get there.” It was almost like a mantra. I thought I was extraordinary too, so I kept plowing on with that little voice inside my head. That voice constantly told me that the fast track was the right track for me, and that it would all pay off when I took a bow on my first opening night, when everyone would finally recognize my talent (I was full of wonder lust and vanity back then, I know.)
At that time in my life, I couldn’t have been more different from my protagonist. I was starring in my first big college musical, an original production called HubCrawl, written by Evan Schlaich and Ethan Slater. l planned to go to London to study classical acting the following year. (And I did - it was an amazing semester. I ended up meeting my wonderful friend Sonia Goldberg who just happens to be playing the Leading Player in CHICAGO right now. Coincidence? I think not.)
In hindsight, I realize that I wrote that story and then subconsciously lived it. I professionally decided to switch from acting to playwriting in 2021, but the seeds were planted long before then (Like when I took my first playwriting class in college, a semester after the class in which I wrote this short story. Or when I got my first New York Times review right after graduation, and found myself incredibly burnt out and unhappy with the actor lifestyle.)
So the question is, I never know if I’m writing my life or I’m living my writing. - Glennon Doyle
And that begs the obvious question…is my inevitable next step to move to Chicago like my character did, and let life fully imitate art…?
Okay back to Pippin. We’ll talk about my switch from acting to writing and potential moving plans another time. For now, all I’ll say is that I may not be acting these days, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never perform again. No matter what I do, I’ll always be a performer at heart, and I’ll always be able to nail a Pas de Bourrée at a moment’s notice.
It was really very hard to not include every single song in Pippin this essay, and link you to a million different performances. I exercised a lot of restraint. I deserve a medal.
The music is so evocative and powerful, even if you don’t know the plot. Morning Glow and Glory are like musical theater gospel - somehow holy and completely sacrilegious in the best way possible.
And then there are the dance songs. Oh man. Your hips just take over when certain songs like Simple Joys play. The adrenaline and endorphins pumping through my veins as I blast the soundtrack while writing this make me want to find a Fosse themed workout class ASAP. (New Yorkers - let me know if these exist outside of super intense dance classes for aspiring performers!)
And wouldn't you
Rather be a left-handed flea
Or a crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea
Than a man who never learns how to be free?
Not 'til he's cold and dead*
*I used to think she was saying “golden days”, not “cold and dead” Very foreshadowing for people who know the show.
When I did a musical theater intensive years ago and we learned a Fosse combination, one of my classmates came up to me afterwards and told me that the look in my eyes was terrifying as I did the choreography to All that Jazz - one of my favorite compliments I’ve ever received as an actor (especially one who barely considers herself a dancer - I used to be able to fake it until I make it in a beginner dance call - and I had a triple pirouette for a DAY - but in reality, I was an ‘actor who moves.’
And then there are songs that unexpectedly make me weep, like No Time At All.
Before it's too late stop trying to wait
For fortune and fame you're secure of
For there's one thing to be sure of, mate:
There's nothing to be sure of!
Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....
Okay. Maybe this essay is about my switch from acting to writing. Just a little.
Getting to see Sonia as the leading player on opening night was a dream come true. Every single one of the cast members did a spectacular job. I highly recommend catching one of the last performances if you’re in Chicago. (Learn more here!)
And I think I enjoyed it on a level I wasn’t quite able to when I saw the Broadway revival back in 2013, when I was constantly comparing myself to every single performer in every production I ever saw. The minute we got to a show, my friends and I would eagerly scan through actor’s biographies in playbills to see where they got their training and then go home and research the programs. Instead of just enjoying the music, I would obsess over whether or not the key was in my vocal range. I could barely enjoy a dance number without berating myself for not being a better dancer.
But that night in Chicago, I got to just sit back and enjoy the show.
I didn’t plan to have a personal epiphany, but hey, I’m a theater kid. AND I also was in town to surprise another one of my close friends from college for her graduate school graduation - it was an emotional weekend!
I’ll leave you another excerpt from my short story, towards the end, where my protagonist comes to peace with her decision to stop acting.
I love my ordinary life. I love my corner of the sky. I love not going to auditions anymore. I love writing on my own schedule, and taking walks in the park with a podcast to clear my head.
And sure, my life might not be completely ordinary. (I am a writer, after all. There’s nothing ordinary about us! And I am still very much in the world of theater as a playwright.)
But then again, none of us truly ordinary. Right?
I mean let’s face it, no one –who was unfamiliar with the show prior to tonight- thought we were even heading towards a finale like that and we were all just as confused and uncomfortable as Pippin looked when presented with the image of burning into a flame. The ending was supposed to consist of Pippin finding his corner of the sky/destiny/finding a meaning in life. That’s what happens when you’re ambitious, and you find a dream worth chasing…well in musicals, at least.
“We never came close, my love, we nearly came near. It never was there
I think it was here”
Here’s the thing about the finale of Pippin that’s genius. We’re led to believe that Pippin will find his “Corner of the Sky” if he just keeps fearlessly chasing his dreams, and moves at lightning speed. But the finale, in that kind of narrative, can only be a burnout, where we go down in flames with some kind of eternal glory because we tried. Realizing that your dream will eventually kill you inside is at first a quiet, and emotional moment. But then it’s suddenly dramatic and world altering. Because your world does dramatically change in that moment, and the finale of Pippin is such a beautiful dramatization of that experience. The moment that I realized I couldn’t spend the rest of my life pacing around, waiting for my big moment, was when I knew that I was done auditioning, and done making myself go through torture in all those dance classes. My world suddenly changed in what felt like a moment, just like Pippin’s did.
But my little voice didn’t shut up without a fight, just like Pippin’s leading player. Now I see why she got so mad during the finale. Pippin gave up all the magic for an ordinary life. Without magic and impossible fantastic dreams, the leading player doesn’t have a part to play in his life. That’s why she leaves for good.
That empty stage was a beautiful, captivating symbol of how empty life feels at first when you say goodbye to a dream. We live in the fantasies of these dreams, telling ourselves that it’s all or nothing. So when we face the cold realization that we aren’t going to have it all, it feels like there’s nothing left. We feel like there’s nothing left because when we were caught up in the fantasy that we would eventually “make it” (whatever that means), we didn’t have back-up plans, or give ourselves the option of just being ordinary. We aren’t even aware that it’s an option we have.
Who would’ve thought that a musical could help me be a little more at peace with my decision to not pursue a career in acting? I’m not saying that it’s not right for anyone, it just wasn’t right for me. Tons of people would love to trade their ordinary lives for extraordinary ones, whatever the cost (even if they don’t truly understand what the cost is yet, or even if they do.) There will always be an ordinary people who gives into their leading player and takes us on extraordinary journeys. The last moment of Pippin really captured that concept well, with Pippin’s former leading player becoming Theo’s and lifting him up onto the trapeze. Lifting up an ordinary person. Making them believe that they can spread a little sunshine.*And inspiring us all to do so in the process.
*Yes this is another Pippin lyric. I truly can’t help it.
Last thing - I am obviously not going to publish an essay about Pippin without shamelessly sharing my pictures with Matthew James Thomas and Patina Miller! I think I was so nervous when I met Patina Miller that I actually sputtered the words “people tell me we look alike!” (Which is true! People have told me this! Should we play sisters in a movie?) Ugh. Love them both. Matthew was also incredible in Time and the Conways and I’m quite upset that I didn’t get to see Patina in the recent revival of Into the Woods.)
Beautiful. Nothing about your life is ordinary!