Juliette tilts her head off to the side. “Really?”
“I think it unlocks a lot of elements for people to dissect and consider. You have a character like Jocelyn, a musician battling stage fright who has essentially raised herself. She only reveals her true feelings through her guitar, but a majority of the time is too closed off to even allow herself that necessary outlet and release. She’s soft and wounded and starved for touch while also being terrified of it. I’d personally love to see a man taking on that character, and I think we can portray her essence in a very meaningful and thoughtful way.”
“And what about George?” Juliette asks.
“Oh, I think a woman assuming his character is equally compelling. Someone who’s confident and fearless in the professional and social world, but who then has crippling bouts of anxiety in the safety of his own home. Who finds momentary purpose and excitement in the pursuit of physical pleasure but is unbearably lonely at his core. He’s the main catalyst of the play’s humor, but every joke is entrenched in insecurity and his desperate need to be accepted. I think the audience will deeply appreciate the dimension an actress can bring to that specific role.”
“And would we be switching the characters’ names?”
“No. Josie will be playing George, and Zachary will be Jocelyn.”
Juliette doesn’t say anything, but I know what she’s thinking from the look in her eyes. She’s here for it.
“And what was the second thought you had?” she asks.
“Secondly, I really think this performance needs to be an immersive experience.”
Oh no. And here we were doing so well.
Ellie watches as Juliette visibly cringes. “I can see we’re not quite on the same page with the idea,” she says jokingly.
“I’m sorry, it’s just, immersive theater isn’t for me. I find it intrusive and chaotic, and I always have. How is the audience supposed to open themselves up to a piece if at any moment something could jump in front of them or brush past them or touch them? It just feels like a lot of unnecessary confusion and doesn’t positively contribute in any productive way.”
“I get what you’re saying. But I do think there’s a way to include the audience while also respecting boundaries and expectations. For me, as I was readingThe Lights of Trafalgar, I was so carried away and enthralled that all I kept thinking to myself was, I have to get into that flat. I need to be there. I want tofeelthe vibrations through the floor when Jocelyn picks up her guitar and frees herself from everything that’s holding her back. I want to stand beside George as he succumbs to his anxiety in the dead of night andsmellthe cold sweat that drips down the back of his neck.”
“But what’s best for you isn’t necessarily what’s best for everyone.”
“Exactly,” Ellie says, turning Juliette’s own words back at her. “People loveThe Lights of Trafalgar, and that’s why we’re here having these discussions. My feeling is, we can absolutely respect the play’s inherent fans while also welcoming in an era of new ones. But what we cannot do is hold on to the past forever, and that’s why I’m so thrilled this show is going to be a pop-up production. Because no matter what people say, art doesn’t feel sustainable anymore—it doesn’t feel accessible, and we need to change that. We need to show up at our audience’s door and stare them in the face because if we don’t, we’re going to be pushed aside until we’re gone from their minds altogether.”
Juliette sits back at that, and Ellie does the same. Roshni and I are too afraid to move.
“You’re right,” Juliette eventually says. Ellie grins, and I can’t help but feel like I just witnessed a monumental event.
“I’m so glad you agree. I really do think this production is going to be something special. And we can compromise on the immersive parts.”
“No, I’m looking forward to it.” Juliette looks truly interested, and I am speechless. And elated.
“Fantastic,” Ellie replies. The doors fling open then, and people begin to file in. “Alright, before we start, can I get anyone a coffee?”
Juliette gives her head a little shake. “I’m good, thanks.” Roshni and I gesture the same, and Ellie stands, gracing us with another infectious smile before she walks away to join a group standing by the refreshment table.
“Wow,” Roshni says. “Is this what football players’ huddles are like? Because I feel so amped up that I could run through a wall right now.”
“This show is going to be amazing,” I throw in. “I can’t wait to get going.” Stressing my point, I whip out the specialty scripts that I made for the three of us. They have the scripted pages minimized just slightly and printed on larger paper, leaving ample space for notes. I also have unlimited highlighters and pencils in my bag for anyone who needs them. Never pens. Pens are the enemy.
Twenty minutes later, the cast and crew settle down into their seats, and Ellie begins to speak, again with the steady, quiet confidence that’s often a telltale sign of an effective director. “Alright, everyone, before we begin the read-through, I want to take a moment to acknowledge the living legend that we are lucky enough to have with us today. A woman who needs no introduction, but I’m giving her one anyways—please help me in welcoming the unspeakably talented Juliette Brassard.”
The room claps, and a shy smile crosses Juliette’s face, a smile that I haven’t seen in quite some time. It fills me up with unadulterated pride.
“Thank you,” she says graciously, waiting for the cheers to die down. “You know, when I first wroteThe Lights of Trafalgar, I had been living in London for almost a year. I wasn’t sure what my play was going to be about, but I knew where I wanted it set. I think everyone is biased in their love for a certain city, and for me, that city is London. It will always be London. To this day, the air and sounds light me up in a way that I can’t quite explain. And it was that same inexplicable force that enabled me to write the play we will be reading today. All of us being here, now—in this city, in this moment—is something that will never happen again, and in a way, it makes us immortal. So, thank you for being in this moment with me, and I couldn’t be happier to be having this experience with all of you. Thank you.”
The room spirals into thunderous applause, and I am very much a part of it. In one breath, I’m entirely happy, and in another, I feel so cheated that we haven’t been doing this every day for the past five years. Living and flourishing in this world is clearly what Juliette is meant to do, and it’s clearer now than ever before. Ellie briefly addresses the group again after that, and then we go around the circle, introducing ourselves and explaining our role in the production. It takes a few minutes, and after that, we’re off to the races as the read-through begins.
Four hours later, Roshni, Juliette, and I are back in the penthouse. Having just returned from a nice walk, Ollie is perfectly content on his luxurious new bed, and Roshni and I are both still on a high from the read-through as we sit side by side on the couch.
“That was seriously so amazing,” Roshni says. “Just being in there and vibing off everyone’s energy, it really felt like I was part of something.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Not bad for a first day, right, Juliette?” I turn around to find my boss at her desk, typing away. She hasn’t even taken a sip of the tea that I fixed for her a minute ago.
