PAC

So, here we are. In the PAC. And let me just say—the theater? Stunning. Like, walk-in-and-immediately-hear-a-harp-playing stunning. I half-expected a tap-dancing Judy Garland ghost to appear and offer me a lozenge.

But the show itself? Um… yeah, not exactly Kansas anymore.

The sets aren’t finished, the transitions are like watching a group project fall apart in real time, and the set changes? They are murdering the pacing. Not in a mysterious Agatha Christie way—more like, we build a beautiful scene and then bam, lights out, clunk clunk backstage chaos, and all that magic just vanishes like Glinda’s bubble popped on a hot day.

And what really freaks me out is that no one seems to be actually fixing anything. We keep talking about the issues, acknowledging them like they’re that one weird cousin at Thanksgiving—but we’re not solving them. We're just running around backstage like Munchkins with no map.

I love this show. I love the cast. I want it to succeed. But right now? I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m half-dreaming of set pieces chasing me. And I’m seriously hoping for a miracle. Or at least a functioning scene change. Because opening night is basically standing outside the stage door tapping its watch.