The play is over. Now comes the less exciting task of washing costumes and tucking them back in the storage rooms. The Frog Footman, and March Hare can go back to being fully human. The students will be released into free evenings, and a full night's sleep. 

 

My job was a success in that the costumes were playful, if also eccentric. Two people had sleeves that brushed the ground, and the Caterpillar dragged a nine foot long stuffed tail behind her. The Cheshire Cat had stripes in every direction and the Queens managed to move gracefully even with eighteen inches of hat to balance atop their wigs. 

 

One of my favorite parts of the production happens right before the show. A mob of teenagers are fully engaged in putting make up on each other, adjusting their frilly collars, and singing full volume. At a time in life when self consciousness can usurp any fun there might be in inhabiting a body that is both changing and strong, their energy pulses across the dressing rooms. 

 

While there were no instances of character growth in the plot, like there was in Annie, or Shrek last spring, the story grew on me. Lewis Carroll was not pursuing a poignant allegory about life, nor a pull-your-heartstrings kind of theme. Yet the kids kept telling me that they were having fun tossing things across stage, doing somersaults in the dark, racing in circles, and getting huffy about fabricated insults. 

 

Maybe that is enough.