Theater of the Absurd

I think it's fair to say that I've seen a lot of theater in my life. When I was in college, my friend Greg and I were subscribers to Salt Lake Acting Company. Kelly and I enjoyed season tickets to American Conservatory Theater and Theater Rhinoceros when we lived in San Francisco.

I've seen Patty Lupone play Evita, been to all 8 hours of Angels in America (I and II), and witnessed a lot of experimental theater -- including a one man show the finale of which consisted of that one man stripping naked and putting clothes pins all over his body...his entire body.

But this weekend I may have had the strangest theatrical experience of my life. We took the boys to see the Salt Lake Acting Company's first-ever play for children: Go, Dog. Go! Based on the children's book by PD Eastman.

Now to be fair the actors were all very, very good, and the sets were fun. Gus loved it (he saw it with his school earlier in the week as well). Niko watched whole thing with a suspicious, confused look on his face and then deemed it simply too loud.

I sat through the entire 50 minutes wondering if the whole thing had been hatched when a group of artsy types stumbled across the book while on an acid trip. As a matter of fact, I bet a few adults in the audience wondered if they'd unintentionally dropped some acid themselves before the curtain went up.

As we left SLAC, it dawned on me: it didn't need to be great theater. Shakespeare in the Park is seldom great theater. But it introduces many people to The Bard's work in an easily accessible manner: I mean seeing Romeo and his buddies dressed in gang colors certainly makes one rethink the play's relevance in our lives far better than fumbling through it in Freshmen English class.

Go, Dog. Go! Didn't need to be great theater either. It just needed to be theater.

My job as a parent is to introduce my kids to new ideas and activities. It's why we've taken them to college basketball and minor league baseball games. It's why we're members of the Natural History Museum and visit the Fine Arts Museum. It's why we take them hiking, and why we see popular movies.

It's not about what we enjoy; it's all about what they might enjoy.

And for what's it worth, as strange as Go, Dog. Go! was. It was still a much more enjoyable theatrical experience than the week's earlier event: Niko's pre-school holiday program. He took one look at the stage and let out a scream that could be heard three counties over. Before a single note was sung, I had to rush the stage and rescue him.

Pity none of the parents of the fine actors in Go, Dog. Go! thought of doing the same for their kids ;-)

(By the way, I in no way meant to disparage high school English teachers. The three very wonderful women who taught me Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar and Hamlet did a great job and helped instill in me a love of his work.)

Be sure to check out my column, Who's Your Daddy, in the current issue of QSaltLake (found at qsaltlake.com)