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Mary Budd of Bangor is a support of the Penobscot Theatre Company.
Recently, my husband and I had the pleasure of attending the closing performance of Penobscot Theatre Company’s production of “Mr. Burns, A Post-Electric Play.” Going in, I knew little about the Pulitzer-Prize-winning play, except that it was somehow connected to “The Simpsons,” the animated television sitcom that has been running continuously since 1989, bringing “D’oh!” to the America lexicon and giving rise to countless memes.
“The Simpsons” has become so ubiquitous that many can recite dialogue verbatim, and even outliers like me who have never seen a full episode know the gist. “The Simpsons” is part of our cultural fabric, a thread that unites people of all ages from various places and diverse walks of life, like the cast of characters we met in “Mr. Burns.”
They were gathered around a campfire in the opening scene, recalling an episode of “The Simpsons” in bits and pieces, delighting in the outrageous premise and hilarious plot points. We came to understand the play’s backstory: Disaster had befallen the United States, the electrical grid had collapsed, and this group was among the survivors, shrouded in darkness, fearful, and laughing. That’s the power of shared experience.
As I sat in the dark, becoming increasingly invested in these characters and their predicament, I was reminded how lucky we are to have professional live theater in our rural corner of the world and how important it is to make time for shared experiences of such value, created especially for our community.
During the brief intermission, I leaned over to chat with the perfect strangers to my left, curious about their impressions and eager to discuss the themes, references, and where it might be headed. Some were long-time subscribers and at least one was brand new to the company’s audience. We agreed “Mr. Burns” was unlike anything we’d ever seen: wildly imaginative, thought-provoking, and completely unpredictable. That’s the magic of theater.
My husband and I dissected the play on the way home and over dinner, and the stellar performances and questions raised lingered in my mind as I reached for my bedtime reading, “The Anxious Generation,” by Jonathan Haidt. In this chilling assessment of the devastating effects of a phone-based culture, Haidt implores the reader to do exactly what the audience was asked before the start of “Mr. Burns”: Put the phone away. Reengage with the real world and enjoy the experience while it’s happening. You’ll be better for it. Haidt’s book, like “Mr. Burns,” ends on a hopeful note, for while we’ve contributed to some of the disasters we’re suffering, we can learn from our missteps and collectively chart a better course. That’s the marvel of human beings.
And theater is the only art exclusively focused on the human condition, which makes it essential.
In a Season 6 episode of “The Simpsons,” Lisa warns, “Dad, I know you think you’re happy now, but it’s not gonna last forever!” and Homer responds with characteristic certainty and cluelessness, “Everything lasts forever.” Funny.
Nothing lasts forever, and a nonprofit theater that has served, united, and elevated our community, creating exceptional shared experiences for 50 years, will not necessarily last another 50. I hope your readers will join me in subscribing to Penobscot Theatre Company’s 51st season and making a donation to ensure that the company’s excellent work remains part of our cultural fabric.
