The Courier-Journal (Louisville)
‘The Prom’ has ticket to an inclusive story
A nightly prom for the audience is held with each performance
The cast and crew of “The Prom” are inviting you to dance, as you are.
Make no mistake, this is a genuine invitation to boogie.
The hit musical, which opened at the Henry Clay Theatre on Friday, tells the difficult story of Emma Nolan, whose Bible-thumping hometown turns against her when she invites her girlfriend to her high school’s prom. When a washed-up, narcissistic group of Broadway actors decides that taking on a cause is their best way to reclaim the public’s adoration, they hijack Emma’s plea to the PTA and transform it into an ego-boosting fiasco.
The show, produced by Pandora Productions and ACT Louisville, is comical, but delicately woven between the laughter is the gut-wrenching truth that so many people in the LGBTQ community never experienced that glittered high school milestone comfortably, as their true self.
An evening at “The Prom” can change that.
The musical’s producers – Randy Blevins, Michael J. Drury, Beth Craig Hall – have included a nightly prom for the audience with each performance, complete with punch, a balloon arch for portraits and a floor painted like a high school gym where you can dust off your dance moves. Guests are encouraged to dress in prom attire, and prom royalty will be crowned during each intermission. No matter what your own senior prom might have looked like, you can rewrite it or nostalgically relive it in this incredibly creative, elaborate version of audience participation.
So I arrived at the Henry Clay dressed in a gown on Friday, hopeful the audience would embrace this invitation just as much as I did.
Over by the balloon arch, I met Nellie Montgomery, who was rocking a rainbow sequin jacket over a chic black dress. She’s a local dance teacher, and she’d come to support her friend, Jason Brent Button, who played the part of Mr. Hawkins, Emma’s high school principal.
“That’s what Jason said, you can go out there and dance, and that’s just perfect,” she told me. “Maybe I’ll be prom queen? I’m excited about that, too.”
That enthusiasm initially wasn’t as catching as I’d hoped.
No one took a spin on the dance floor ahead of the performance, even as the volunteers encouraged the crowd to the floor.
“This is your prom, please consider it your prom,” one of the volunteers told the audience.
In that moment, we were just one big group of wallflowers. It doesn’t matter how many years you’re removed from your own prom, being the first one out on the dance floor seemingly takes as much courage as asking your high school crush to dance.
The lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play. The opening scene introduced the Broadway crew – Dee Dee Allen (Heidi Platt), Barry Glickman (Michael J. Drury), Sheldon Saperstein (Zachary Trinkle), Angie Dickinson (Emily Schroering) and Trent Oliver (Brian Gligor) – as an unlikeable, self-absorbed posse that people love to hate.
When the set shifted over to the high school, Emma Nolan (Annie Weible) flawlessly embodied that real, cringeworthy, teenage terror of becoming an unwanted spectacle, while the principal, Mr. Hawkins (Jason Brent Button) charmed the whole room by being that sincere, helpful and kind advocate that every adolescent craves.
The true fiasco began when the
Broadway stars disrupt the PTA meeting, and then later, sang a cringeworthy song about inclusion at a monster truck rally, pleading Emma’s cause. All of the adult characters, for one selfish reason or another, wanted Emma and her girlfriend to have the inclusive prom the PTA is trying to deny them.
“I never went to prom because I don’t have the courage you have,” Barry, whose character is gay, told Emma on stage.
I wondered if some of Emma’s courage would funnel down into the audience prom at intermission.
The lights came on and the dance music returned, and all the wallflowers headed for bathrooms and a concession, leaving the floor bare, yet again. So I turned my attention back to the balloon arch, where I met Melissa Born and her sons Lawson, 10, and Kemper, 13.
The family had come out to support their friend, Melanie Dillman, who was playing the trumpet in the band.
They’d eagerly embraced the whole prom. Born had on a stunning green jumpsuit with an assortment of sparkly jewelry, and Lawson had even worn a tux.
Melissa, who is part of the LGTBQ community, said “The Prom” really hits home for her. She grew up attending a Christian school in Western Kentucky, but when she moved out of her parents’ home just before her senior year, she had to switch to public school. Born didn’t take a date to the Graves County High School senior prom.
“It wasn’t great,” she remembered, and she only stayed for a few dances before she decided to leave.
There’s a message in “The Prom” that she hopes the whole audience embraces. “I hope it helps us all to remember that we are the same,” Born told me. “And we all have triumphs and challenges, and we all just want to be happy and have a good life. We can help each other.”
A few minutes later when we walked back into the theater, it was time to crown the prom royalty. The announcer purposefully didn’t use the term “king” or “queen.” The staff wanted everyone to feel included.
Then something magical happened. When audience members Elissa Fochtman and Tori Hill accepted the crowns and ABBA’s “Dancing Queen,” played over the speaker, it was as though every nerve in the room shattered. Couples and friends, led their dance partners by the hand down to that fake gymnasium floor. For a few minutes, it really felt like a prom.
Then I spotted Born and Lawson on the dance floor grinning and jumping, and I thought about what she’d told me about Graves County High School. I remembered what the producers had hoped this prom would mean to the community.
“The Prom” was a genuine success, and we hadn’t even gotten to the final bow, yet.