The Importance of Being Earnest

Just deciding to produce this particular play was a bit of a journey. The fall following the COVID lockdowns, I was desperate to return to the theatre community I had missed for six months. Though I had written quite a bit and participated in a few Zoom productions, I sorely missed the thrill of sharing a story with a live, in person audience.

I started by texting my core group of theatre friends, asking them if they would like to do an outdoor production of Bright Star in Concert, an abridged version of the Broadway musical designed specifically to accommodate a smaller cast, social distancing, and an outdoor venue. Unfortunately, however, some of the themes were deemed “too mature” by a couple parents of key cast members. A disappointment, undoubtedly, but I quickly pivoted to one of my favorite vignette plays of all time, Almost, Maine. I applied for the rights… but it was restricted in our area. I was at a loss… we were scheduled to start rehearsals the next day, and I had to find a show that matched my preexisting group of actors. Then, I remembered a show Amy Cave (or my mom, depending on who you ask) had suggested. I did a quick Google search, downloaded the public domain script from Project Gutenberg, and realized the cast list fit my group perfectly. I copy-pasted the play into a Word Doc, and printed out The Importance of Being Earnest. The next day, I found a pro-shot on BroadwayHD and watched the entire thing for the first time. At noon, all my friends arrived in my backyard, we sat down in our appropriately spaced chairs, and I announced we would be performing The Importance of Being Earnest. In hindsight, I am so thankful I had a group of such dedicated, trusting friends who were all in, jumping into the chaotic spontaneity of this project.

Usually, I like to go into a show with a passion for the piece and some sort of “concept” that will bring new life to it, such as a unique casting choice or a distinct design idea. When I began working on this show, however, I barely knew the plot, and I certainly had no grand imagining of what would make our show unique. However, as I continued to dive into Oscar Wilde’s rich text over the next month, I fell deeply in love with the material, as did the rest of the cast. And, as it turns out, a “concept” wasn’t really necessary this time around. The “concept” would be, how do I safely produce this show in the midst of a global pandemic?

I am proud to say that we did not have a single COVID case in our cast for the entirety of the rehearsal process and one-weekend run; this was the consequence of a host of precautions we took to make the show as safe as possible and a healthy dose of luck. My first step was scouting out an ideal outdoor location for our production. After looking at several parks and amphitheaters, I found the perfect spot in the large, grassy courtyard of a Baptist Church a couple of my cast members went to. It was a large space with great acoustics, surrounded by the walls of a beautiful old church, with nearby rooms we could turn into dressing rooms and storage spaces for our sets, lights, and costumes. We also had free access, which was essential considering we were on a shoestring budget (though we did give ten percent of our earnings to the church as a token of gratitude).

In addition to our outdoor venue, we were masked during rehearsals, ran a UV light over all of our props, and most importantly, the entire show was blocked social-distanced. With the sole exception of siblings in the cast, there was no contact made whatsoever between cast members onstage. This did create a unique set of challenges, especially for a romance, but we were able to come up with cheeky solutions and hammed it up for comedy. For example, instead of embracing, the couples blew kisses and made hearts to each other, or leaned in for a smooch from six feet apart. Though it was impossible to make it look natural and it undoubtedly drew attention to the distanced blocking, playing it for laughs brought much-needed levity to a time wrought with anxiety and isolation.

It was on this show that I learned the beauty of delegation from experience. I asked Vivian Steele, a prodigious seamstress and designer (who also played Gwendolyn in the production), to design and construct the costumes. In addition to creating a beautiful design palette for the show, I believe she only spent about $25 total. She pulled from her own pile of costumes at home, found amazing deals at thrift shops, and even made a dress out of an old curtain like the literal Maria Von Trapp to tie the production together. We did a Zoom interview on her design process to promote the show; you can watch it here.

The show ended up a resounding success! We sold-out every show, and I think the audience was hungry for live theatre again, too. The cast loved hearing the raucous laughter every night, and it energized all of us to know we were blessing people with our art. We brought in over $700, which went a long way in producing our next production, Pygmalion. I feel so thankful for this experience and the way it brought our tight-knit group of friends even closer together, starting a relationship that would last several more years, producing under the name Tree Trunk Theater.


I also asked Amy Cave if she would be willing to co-produce the show with us, and she graciously provided flats to build our set, professional lighting for the outdoor space, and a load of promotional content for our Facebook page. It started a producing relationship that has continued for several years, and I am still so thankful for everything she has done to make these shows a reality.

Our final COVID precaution was a unique way of selling tickets. Instead of the typical general admission seating, I designed a chart sold in “blocks”. You could buy a picnic spot on the grass or a row of chairs around the perimeter to share with your friends and family. These “blocks” were also distanced and allowed the audience to safely engage in live theater.