Into the Woods on a Fateful Day

At first, I was really concerned about posting something as seemingly frivolous as a theater review on the tenth anniversary of the greatest tragedy in my country’s history.  It felt awkward.

Would I seem insensitive to my good friends who now live in Jersey City, but who shared the tragedy of September 11, 2001 with their fellow New Yorkers on a level which I can only barely comprehend?  Would I seem insensitive to my fellow Juggler, Zan, who lives in the city and was doubtlessly forever changed on that day?  Should this day be reserved for the important memorial posts that help our country continue its long healing process?

But then I looked more closely at my subject matter.  Into the Woods, the lyrically complicated fairy tale musical by Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine which is currently running at Mysterium Theater, is a wonderful tale of tragedy and redemption that reflects the pain and suffering that can happen to anyone- even good people- and suggests that our response to tragedy can be the ultimate healing force.  It documents an idyllic, fairy tale existence that comes crashing down and follows the survivors as they claw their way out of the darkness.  It is an archetypal story that offers insight into the American experience over the last 10 years.

If you are unfamiliar with the show, imagine all the classic fairy tales intertwining throughout the first act.  Their one common theme: the need to face their fear and enter the woods on some important quest: Little Red Riding Hood to see her grandmother, Cinderella to get to (and run from) the Royal Ball, Jack to sell his cow for a handful of beans.  A new light is shed on each tale as they reach the inevitable happy ever after.

Then there’s the second act.  Suffice it to say that everything goes to hell.  The wife of the giant that Jack murdered when he cut down his beanstalk arrives to seek revenge.  The characters face the consequences of their own actions in an unabashedly brutal way, and- unlike your typical children’s stories- many of them are crushed under the monster’s boot, never to find their ever after.

Mysterium’s production hits all the right notes.  The first act is purposely cartoonish, exaggerating the fairy tale aspects and over blowing all of the characters’ personality traits.  Jack (Andrew Paskil) is absurdly naïve.  Rapunzel (Alexandra Camastra) is sugar-sweet and one-dimensional.  The two Princes (Cinderella’s and Rapunzel’s) are caricatures of chivalry and charm as they seek their respective damsels.  These characterizations help us fall in love with familiar figures from our childhood, which makes the second act all the more powerful.

The sweet veneer is stripped in act two, and each actor crashes down to earth as they deal with the tragedy that afflicts them.  As each character realizes that solving one problem does not ensure eternal happiness, they become more real.  As they lose the ability to blame each other, and the final force of four is left alone to face the dreaded giant, they learn valuable lessons that show in their faces and can be heard in their voice.  Life is dangerous, but you have to face it head on.

The U.S. went through a similar process when terrorists struck us 10 years ago.  Many of us were blissfully unaware of the world’s dangers on September 10, 2001.  The giant arrived at 8:46 the next morning.  Our world came crashing down on us over the next 24 hours and beyond.  Heroes worked around the clock to save as many people as they could.  Our country banded together to donate labor, blood, and money to help their fellow countrymen.

That day brought us into our own woods to face our own giant.  We may still be lost in the woods.  Sondheim’s show, written over a decade before that day, suggests that the woods are part of life.  Our shadow will always be with us:

There are always wolves,
There are always spells,
There are always beans,
Or a giant dwells there.

Nothing will ever be the same after facing the giant.  But we can learn from the experience and come out of the confrontation wiser than before and better equipped to face the next giant, wolf, spell, recession, or terrorist that comes our way.

Multiple times throughout the second act, we hear something like, “Well, she’s dead.  Nothing we can do about it now.”  In a way, that’s true.  You can’t change the past.  But it’s a little simplistic.  As Pagans, we are used to honoring the past and, especially, the dead.  That is important.  But it is also important to balance that honor by using our grief to improve ourselves.  Into the Woods reminds us that we will always have a shadow to face, but these challenges can also make us stronger.

The way is dark,
The light is dim,
But now there’s you, me, her, and him.
The chances look small,
The choices look grim,
But everything you learn there
Will help when you return there.

For me, seeing this show at this time of year was an incredibly powerful way to honor the people who lost their lives 10 years ago.  We all grieve in our own way, and the world of story always helps me process life’s difficult challenges.  I hope everyone finds their own way to express and process their grief.