By Erin Shea Brady

 

I’ve worn a lot of hats as a theatre maker. From writing to directing to dramaturgy, I’ve always approached theatre from a place of deep curiosity about why people do the things they do, how they behave when the stakes are highest; the strange, profound and unique ways that they meet the unknown and face our undeniable human need for connection. In 2018, I indulged my personal and professional curiosity and went back to school for a Masters in Social Work, adding “therapist” to my hat collection. Graduating into the COVID-19 pandemic was more than I could have bargained for and I’ve spent the first years of my career sitting with clients in the fear, uncertainty, and loneliness that so many of us have experienced since 2020. Colleagues who had been working in mental health for years were shaken by three-hundred-person waitlists, the challenges of telehealth, and mostly, the unprecedented waves of depression, anxiety, hopelessness and isolation that impacted everyone from ten-year-old kids to adults in their seventies and eighties. In witnessing all of this, I’m often forced to reckon with what is actually in my control: what actions can I take to support my clients? What actions can they take to support themselves?

One professor of mine talked about therapists as “trouble makers,” creating opportunities for growth through the disruption of norms that no longer serve. Whether we’re providing resources to unhoused folks, offering support and affirmation to LGBTQ+ teens, or challenging a limiting worldview, therapists are constantly thinking in terms of interventions: small or large actions taken to shift a client’s path and make change. In theatre, we talk about actions, too.

 

Theatre, at its core, is an intervention rooted in the act of being in relationship. For a shy middle schooler looking for community, being in relationship with members of cast and crew, feeling a sense of purpose and belonging, can change the course of their development. Actors rely on their scene partners to challenge and respond to them, creating obstacles and points of connection that drive dramatic tension and story. A director fosters a relationship with the audience, guiding their eye through pacing and stage pictures, while delighting in the knowledge that each audience member will have their own relationship to this collective work based on their lived experience, agency and curiosity. In both theatre and in therapy, growth happens through connection, through viewing ourselves as active participants in relationship with ourselves and others.

 

When I first read the script for Every Brilliant Thing, I was struck most by the inclusion of the audience in the narrative structure of the play: the choice to break down the fourth wall and disrupt an old dynamic that treats audience members as viewers rather than collaborators. It looked to me like an intervention, and in researching playwright Duncan Macmillan, I found that he agrees: Theatre at its best, Macmillan says, “is incredibly direct and incredibly interventionist.”

 

So, what does this have to do with you? What opportunity does this play afford you? What does it ask of you? How are you in relationship with this play?

 

 

The words “audience participation” might be a little scary and stressful, especially for those who are shy, fear public speaking or are hesitant to take the spotlight. If this is you, you might find yourself keeping your head down, avoiding eye contact and hoping that you don’t get called on. (I totally get it and have often felt the same way!) An improviser friend of mine once calmed my nerves by reminding me that the actor’s job is to make the audience look good. Through my background as a social worker, I’ve come upon some important research that has deepened my understanding of the power of participating.

 

 

In the early 1900s, French sociologist Émile Durkheim (1858-1917) coined the term “collective effervescence” to refer to the sense of energy and harmony people feel when they come together in a group around a shared purpose.

 

In 2021, Dr. Adam Grant wrote a piece for the New York Times on the loss of collective effervescence throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. He calls back to the Roaring ‘20s, a period of celebration and innovation following World War I, and describes the power of community and collaboration, attributing “an explosion of popular art like jazz and talking films” and “medical advancements like insulin” to the joy that people found in coming together to create and solve problems.

 

 

In 2017, a group of researchers expanded on this idea, coining the term “collective assembly” which describes the act of coming together to participate in a shared experience. They determined, through their research, that those who are inclined towards participation showed decreased loneliness, increased positive feelings, a sense of meaning in one’s life, self-awareness, and spiritual transcendence.

 

“Collective assembly is more than just people coming together to distract themselves from life by watching a game, concert or play — instead, it is an opportunity to feel connected to something bigger than oneself; it’s an opportunity to feel joy, social connection, meaning and peace.”

— Shira Gabriel, Jennifer Valenti, Kristin Naragon-Gainey, and Ariana Young, The Psychological Importance of Collective Assembly

 

This play will ask you to challenge yourself, to collaborate, to try something a little new, to be of service, and to take action. Duncan Macmillan and Jonny Donahoe developed this script with participation in mind so that you would be able to actively shape and contribute to the play, giving each audience the opportunity to make something totally unique and beautiful together, to be in relationship with each other. I hope you’ll find that, on the other side of any nerves, apprehension or fear, the rewards of participation are well-worth the effort.