As a Theatre Arts & Performance Studies concentrator, I spend a lot of time in Lyman Hall, home to the TAPS department. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of spending time in this building, it’s probably not what you imagine. Broadway playbills do not line the walls and show tunes are not always playing, but make no mistake: it is not a normal place.
A few days ago, my Latinx Theatre class took a trip outside. As we filed up the stairs, we passed what appeared to be a hostage situation. I mean, legitimately, a straight up hostage situation. Under the stairwell was a woman gagged and tied to a chair, and standing beside her was a man holding rope. Now, one would think this would be cause for alarm; however, my classmates and professor did not bat an eyelid as they ascended the stairs. Everyone accepted this alarming sight, shrugged, and continued on their merry way. The absurdity of their lack of concern hit me hard, but then it dawned on me: People will accept anything if it happens in the theatre building.
Naturally, my first thought was that Lyman is the perfect place to commit a crime. Life in Lyman is like the plot of The Purge — no rules or laws apply, everyone looks the other way, and chaos ensues. Have you committed a murder? Forgot to get rid of the body? No problem! In Lyman, theatre students will mosey on by, notice the corpse, and say, “Wow! You’re one convincing cadaver. Where’d you learn to do that make up?!” When they receive no response, they’ll assume it’s all part of an over-the-top but very serious method acting exercise. Lyman Hall is a criminal’s paradise! You wouldn’t stop a ne’er-do-well in Lyman — in fact, you’d probably feel like it was your fault for intruding on important work. You would tip your hat, ignoring the evident bloodshed, and scurry away saying, “A thousand pardons!”
Opening the doors to Lyman is like falling down the Rabbit Hole, and you are Alice… Only, instead of Wonderland, you enter a den of depravity where all bets are off. Instead of the Mad Hatter, you meet characters who think they know everything about Alexander Hamilton and who cannot tear themselves away from their reflections if a mirror is in sight. (Forget the hostage — that’s the real horror.)
I’m just kidding! Theatre kids are perfect. I know because I am one! Ha ha!
But the Lyman Hall phenomenon is truly unique. Where else can such blind acceptance happen? And how far can you push it before students become suspicious? I plan to find out. Join me next week as I dress as a witch in the Lyman basement, stirring a cauldron, requesting ingredients like “eye of newt” from no one in particular, and performing a live sacrifice.
