After that Tuesday that none of us will ever forget, the cast of Tony Œn
Tina¹s Wedding was required to perform only two days later. Thankfully for us,
the producers of our show cancelled that week's performances, but
announced that we would open the following Thursday as scheduled.

   With heavy hearts we returned to work on September 20th. Our producer,
Joe Corcoran, called a meeting before the show to announce to the cast and
crew that because of the understandably large amount of cancellations and
lack of ticket sales that the show would close at the end of the week. It
might only close for a month, but depending on sales, quite possibly
forever. Out of the thirty actors and staff, I am glad to say that there
wasn¹t so much as a teardrop or a whisper of self-pity, the stuff that
usually comes with a play¹s closing. After all, we were only going to be
unemployed, something as actors we are frankly quite used to. The emotions
of a closing notice paled in comparison to the overwhelming grief we were
still feeling for our City, our Country and the thousands of families who
were so severely affected by this tragedy.

   After the meeting the actors shuffled into the dressing room and prepared
for the show. It was a relatively calm setting compared to the usual racket
of twenty-five actors in a cramped dressing room gossiping, applying make-up
and sliding into costumes. People were quietly expressing their reluctance
in having to perform at all. A lot of us wished Mr. Corcoran had cancelled
the remaining shows all together. Our jobs seemed trivial and we felt
powerless in light of the past week¹s events.  What would our audience be
like? What would be their mood? How would they react? Unlike most audiences
ours are part of the show. At " Tony Œn Tina's", they play the guests at the
wedding. We interact, improvising without the protection of a "fourth wall".
Plus our show takes place in the present. How were we going to avoid what
was so squarely on everybody¹s mind? Like everyone everywhere we had no
frame of reference and had no idea what we were in for.

   The show went on. I arrived at the church as usual playing the
wisecracking father of the groom, escorting Grandma and my much younger
girlfriend- two pros I was happy to be relying on that night. Outside the
church we greeted a smattering of an audience with the best smiles we could
muster. They smiled back. I approached a woman who was somewhere in her
sixties and as sweet as any grandmother could be.  We gave each other a big
hug like we hadn¹t seen each other in years, which isn¹t unusual in our
show, but she picked up her cue so tenderly when she said, "Are you doing
okay, Honey? Are you doing okay with everything?"  It was simple, perfect,
and encompassing of the moment.

   "I'm fine" I replied, "Everybody's doin' real good. We're gonna get
through it. Ma, look who's here!"  Grandma gave her a big hug and rattled
off something in Italian.  I continued, "I also want ya to meet my
girlfriend, Maddy, she dances at my club. It's her first family event and
she don't really know anybody."

   "Oh, she's very pretty. You're so lucky."
   Maddy chimed in, "That¹s so sweet of you to sayyyy!" and shimmied over in
her skin-tight gold lame miniskirt to give the woman yet another huge hug.
   She and her friends supplied our first laughs. This precious lady who
probably never acted a day in her life said her lines so naturally and with
such genuine caring that she set the tone for the rest of the night. I'll admit it -
I stole her lines and used them in all my following greetings.
Under the circumstances it was the perfect icebreaker. "Ya doin¹ okay,
Honey? Are you doin' okay with everything?"

    Inside the church there were only fifty-or-so people, a small house to
say the least, but this audience was so involved in the undertakings that
the church had the sound of a full house. They laughed at things that have
never gotten laughs before.  I was shocked. I thought we'd get some
chuckles, maybe, but I certainly didn't expect them to give us a lift. They
were generously giving it up to us and we were heartily giving it back them.
After a horrific week we were picking each other up.

   Toward the end of the ceremony, Father Mark brought Tony and Tina
together for the final vows. He asked the congregation to join hands. A room
full of strangers held hands as if they were old friends, like they did at
all our performances, but on this night there was more potency in the
moment, a more urgent need to come together. When Kelly Cinnante, playing
Tina, recited her vows, she didn¹t have to work for the emotion. Tears
streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to get the lines out and the rest
of the room was moved along with her.  The words forever recited at wedding
rituals, "I will love you and honor you", were on that night particularly
fused with meaning, and locked us together in a spontaneous moment of
compassion and solidarity. I¹m sure this was occurring simultaneously at
other theaters and gatherings all around the city with other people who were
also defying genuine fears by congregating anyway. In spirit, we reached
through the theater walls and held hands with these folks too. There was
power in it. In communion with others we were gaining strength. Tightness
and anxiety were beginning to give way.

    And so the show went on from the church to the wedding hall as always,
with love, passion and the Tarantella. The actors and the audience gave it
all they had that night, helping each other to escape, if only briefly, from
what was so sad in our lives, yet at the same time sharing and celebrating
what was so very wonderful about life.

   Come to the theater, any theater. It needs you now more than it ever has.
You¹ll get some relief and gain strength from the experience. And if by chance
you end up at Tony Œn Tina's Wedding, forgive me if I use a stolen line
"Are you okay honey? Are you okay with everything?"
 
Mark Nassar
Co-Creator of Tony Œn Tina¹s Wedding

Downtown Theatre Club
151 First Avenue Box 20
NY NY   10003
212.505.5305
dttc@earthlink.net

 Tony n' Tina's Wedding