The GoodheART Report – The End (and Beginning) of O.P.C.

O.P.C. has played its final performance in Cambridge. Nina Goodheart, A.R.T. intern and production assistant, is back to reflect on the whole process.

Back in October, I heard the words of O.P.C. aloud for the first time. Two months later, I can pretty much recite the entire play on command. Soon, the precise wording of the lines will start to fade from my memory, but I don’t think I could forget this experience if I tried.

This was the first professional production that I have ever had the chance to work on. My hopes were high—and they were more than met. Signing on to this production, I envisioned the excitement I would feel watching the cast find their characters in the rehearsal room, the set spring to life during tech, and the audience cheer on opening night. But I couldn’t have imagined all the little ways that I came to feel a part of the process.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m fully aware that I was one of the smallest cogs in the engine of this show. When I brought family and friends to see O.P.C., there was no single thing that I could point to and say, “I did that.” But I felt a rush of pride knowing how many pieces of the puzzle I was allowed to touch. I had to suppress a cheer every time Olivia Thirlby nailed one of the monologues we spent our lunch hour drilling. I clapped extra hard when the audience appreciated a scene that the dramaturgy team spent hours working on. Just walking into the theater, I smiled, knowing that I played a part in procuring the recycled water bottles that decorate the ceiling.

On closing night, as I clinked champagne glasses (mine was filled with Diet Coke, don’t worry) with the cast and crew, I suddenly worried that I wasn’t sad enough. The end of O.P.C. wasn’t hitting me. I couldn’t imagine what my next few months at the A.R.T. would be like without this team. But then again, O.P.C. was never meant to go out in a blaze of glory. It wasn’t meant to go out at all. It’s not as if we were just taking a break from buying plastic water bottles and throwing away our twice-used belongings. With all of Eve’s wonderful words spinning in our heads, I doubt we’d be able to return to our old ways even if we wanted to. With any luck, the audience felt the same.

I don’t know what the next step is for this show is. (I’ll tell you a secret: I’m already imagining directing the first student production of O.P.C. when I get to college next year.) If you have read these updates or come to the show, thank you. I can think of no better words to leave you with than the closing lines of the show, as Romi looks out into a world half-destroyed, but with a glimmer of hope.

“Can we do this now? Can we? Let’s go.”

Nina Goodheart is a full-time artistic intern, production assistant, and blogger at the American Repertory Theater.  She can also recite the complete American musical theatre canon on command.