can you hear . . . ??

we're going to see a local production of Les Miserables tonight. we saw it about 5 years ago on Broadway. amazing. my husband had never seen a Broadway show. i remember hoping that he would enjoy it but trying not to set anything up (like, "expect to be freaked out in the initital moments because we'll go from the small everday to Very Big"). just before intermission, i looked at him and said -- hoping to offer a little critique so that he might either, a.) agree, confirming my worst fears but giving him the opportunity to be truthful w/out feeling awkward, or b.) resist, and let me know that he was loving it as much as i -- so i said, "Eponene's voice is a little weak."

silence.

he turned his face to mine, tears running down, furious and with that stony expression people get when they. can't. believe. it . . . saying "ARE YOU KIDDING?! She's the best one!"

so, clearly, he was loving it. so we're going again. a few hours before the show, i have an afternoon audition for a very little thing, and then the world will go big in the theater. i hope i can handle the affective shifts that attend these extremes.

quick note: Phillip Lopate once told me that a student writing for a student newspaper once asked him, "what's your favorite novel?" . . . he told them that Hugo's work was The One. later, in the school paper, he is quoted, identifying his favorite novel as (i am not kidding) Lame is Rob. i am not making fun of students, or even that student, but, come on, that's hysterical.

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