Hi, I’m Dylan Stephen Levers and I’ve been lucky enough to watch Director Michael Halberstam in rehearsal on The Real Thing through an observership grant from the Stage Directors and Choreographer’s Foundation.

Several months ago at a dinner party, I was introduced to a friend of a friend who was getting married. I asked the bride-to-be how preparations were coming along for the big day, thinking her answer would concern the details of the event—floral decorations, seating charts and other specifics. Instead, she replied that she had been reading several books with titles such as “What To Do When The Butterflies Stop.” I was taken aback at this seemingly pessimistic action. Wouldn’t she want to revel in the joy of love for a little longer? In reality, she was making preparations for the longevity of the relationship, not just the first jovial steps.

Throughout the artistic canon, art makers have focused on a very specific segment of the romantic narrative—the act of falling in love. It’s chronicled in iconic works from Shakespearean sonnets to Cole Porter lyrics to cinemaplex romantic comedies. In his opening speech to the cast and crew, Michael pointed out that our constant exposure to this specific section of a relationship can make one feel inadequate to the great lovers of iconic works. But, as my bride-to-be acquaintance rightfully knew, love extends beyond the first crescendo to when “the butterflies stop.”

This first segment of romance often has more to do with lusting than the practical realities of love and relationships. How many of us are thinking about whether or not our partner will put the toilet seat down on first dates? But, once this sheen wears off and we look at our partners in a practical light, relationships become contracts. This isn’t to say that romance is out of the equation. But, as The Real Thing points out, relationships are pacts that must be made on a consistent basis. In a recent Op-Ed piece for The New York Times, novelist Jonathan Franzen wrote, “Love is about bottomless empathy, born out of the heart’s revelation that another person is every bit as real as you are… to love a specific person, and to identify with his or her struggles and joys as if they were your own, you have to surrender some of your self.” What are the rubrics that we use to evaluate the strengths of our bonds with each other? What do our partners need from us and what do we need from them to continue a healthy pact? As one character in The Real Thing puts it: “There are no commitments, only bargains. And they have to be made again every day.”

These questions are at the heart of The Real Thing. One of the beauties of working on a text by Tom Stoppard is that the author goes to great pains to argue many sides of the coin. Whatever the state of your romantic life, I’m confident you’ll see a bit of yourself in the work. We’re so excited for you to see the production!

Jordan Lane Shappell

Two years ago I met The Love Of My Life. After a few months of passionate dating, she decided to travel eastern Europe and declared that she simply could not be hindered by a relationship whilst abroad. So she dumped me.

In times of heartbreak I cope by putting on sweatpants and binge eating. That summer I discovered Taco Burrito Palace #2. It was certainly not a haven from my pain, but it was the solace I needed. Eventually, the employees knew my name and called me friend. It was the greatest Mexican food I had ever eaten. Ever! When TLOML returned, we tried to make it work, but school and life got in the way. The night of our last kiss (which is always the saddest kiss) I cried and ate tacos.

Recently, I revisited TBP#2 and, honestly, the food was bland. Standard Mexican fare. Where did all that splendor go?!? Where was the greatness? I realize now, my heartache informed my taste buds. I lost love and found it somewhere else. Rather, I forced it somewhere else. Taco Burrito Palace #2 is good, but it is not love.

Ryan Hallahan

When I was 10 years old, all I wanted was to be one of the popular kids. One day, on a field trip to the Adler Planetarium, all of my dreams came true. I was sitting in the food court with some of my friends, when I was approached by several girls. It was an unusual for even one girl to talk to me except to borrow a pencil, so my already heightened nerves kicked in to overdrive when they asked me the question: “Do you want to go out with Jenny?” This was huge. Jenny was, quite possibly, the most popular girl in school. I was unable to swallow my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so I simply nodded. Word spread like wildfire, and within minutes this was the center story of the Mokena Elementary Gossip Mill. I stayed cool under the glare of the spotlight by avoiding Jenny like a Lepper for the rest of the afternoon. But inside, I was doing cart-wheels. I had made it. I had arrived.

The next day, I was sitting next to one of Jenny’s friends. In the middle of a Social Studies lesson, she leaned over and whispered, “Jenny doesn’t want to go out with you anymore. She actually never did. We just made everyone think she did because we were playing a joke on her.” I felt something in my chest equivalent to the collapsing of a dying sun. Tears swelled in my eyes. Not only was I not popular, I was so unpopular that the funniest joke the popular kids could think to play on their queen was to make everyone think she was dating me. As I got older, I eventually became apathetic to the social class system that defines growing up, and was a happier young person because of it. But I’ll be damned if 10-year-old Ryan wasn’t sure that the whole world had come to an abrupt and devastating end.

Hi, I’m Avital Schoenberg and I’m the assistant director for Writers’ Theatre’s production of The Real Thing.  It is an honor to be working on this brilliant and deeply moving play. The Real Thing is often pointed to as intellectual playwright Tom Stoppard’s most personal play, and yet when I read it for the first time my head got very caught up in the neat turns of phrase and brilliant dialogue.  It’s been a gift the last couple of weeks to hear these words brought to life by such a talented cast of actors willing to take risks, be vulnerable, and bring to life the soul and the humanity in this brilliantly clever dialogue.

As an assistant director, one of the most fascinating things to learn is not only what notes a director gives to the actors, but when the notes are given.  Director Michael Halberstam crafts a journey over the course of the rehearsal process that enhances an actor’s own ability to explore the role.  In the first week of rehearsal he’s reminded us that we are playing – “no results,” he says before each scene.  This encourages each artist to trust their instincts and be willing to play with their fellow actors, without a correct answer in mind.  The emphasis on play trains us to listen and engage with our other actors in the moment rather than manufacturing a performance based on an idea of what these lines mean, independent from an experience of how the other actors are playing them.

Authentic behavior is a particularly interesting challenge for actors.  We work in pursuit of truth while engaging in an activity that is inherently unreal.  Yet, it is essential that as artists we are able to engage in authentic, truthful behavior under this set of imaginary circumstances.  This play, which is in fact about theatre artists navigating their onstage experiences and real-life relationships, spirals in on itself as we are forced to constantly reassess our understanding of “reality.”  Even as Stoppard creates a distinction between the world of the play and the world of the actors offstage, we cannot help but be aware of another layer of meta-theatricality – that we are also in a theatre, watching a play.

Stoppard has crafted such a brilliantly structured script that the biggest pitfall is actually getting lost in his structure, bringing attention to the play’s cleverness instead of simply letting that go and challenging ourselves to find the authentic behavior in the moment.  This is the magic of seeing The Real Thing, rather than simply reading it.  It’s on its feet that we discover the heart amidst the beautifully crafted, clever language Mr. Stoppard has given us.  Since day one, Michael has emphasized the importance of playing the authentic need underneath the cleverness rather than constantly playing clever – these people are clever, so they don’t need to play clever. When I first read this play I was stunned by the ways in which Stoppard’s language could capture human experience in a brilliant turn of phrase – yet it has been the actors’ willingness to live that human experience that has made this language not only intellectually resonant but also deeply true.

I am learning that if you think it’s the real thing, and it turns out not to be so, it is still the real thing for you — however painfully unrequited or quietly lost. To doubt your instincts or deny your feelings does little to prepare you for the actual real thing when it finally comes along. If you shut down and withdrawal and stop trusting, you may miss it. The actual real thing probably looks nothing like what you’re expecting; it may bear very little resemblance to the real things that came before. Maybe that’s exactly how you know. Be honest, be bold, be honest, be brave, be vulnerable, risk everything, be honest. Simple, but not easy. Not easy, but better than being afraid.