Intermission Thoughts:

Why Musicals Matter More Than We Admit

Watching the Tony Awards tonight reminded me of something I’ve always loved about musicals:

For a few minutes at a time, you get to step inside completely different emotional worlds.

One performance makes you laugh.

The next breaks your heart.

Then suddenly there’s joy, rebellion, romance, grief, absurdity, longing, hope, spectacle, tenderness — all unfolding live in front of you.

It’s like getting little tastes of different stories, different lives, different perspectives.

And maybe that’s part of why live theater feels so important right now.

There’s nothing passive about it.

A play only exists fully in the moment it’s being performed.

The audience breathes with the actors.

People laugh together.

Cry together.

Sit in silence together.

For a few hours, strangers agree to feel something collectively.

There’s magic in that.

And the Tonys especially reminded me how deeply theater has always been tied to expression, empathy, identity, and visibility.

Not just through the stories themselves, but through the people creating them.

The flamboyant fashion.

The theatricality.

The emotion in the speeches.

The celebration of individuality.

The open support for queer voices and communities during Pride Month.

The reminder that art has always been a safe place for many people to exist more fully as themselves.

One moment that especially stayed with me was hearing that a woman playwright had finally won again after forty years.

Forty years.

That matters.

Because theater isn’t just entertainment.

It’s storytelling.

And storytelling shapes who gets seen, remembered, celebrated, and heard.

At the end of the night, a quote from the producers of Schmigadoon! really stuck with me:

“Sometimes singing, dancing, jokes and a happy ending are all you need.”

And honestly?

Maybe that’s true.

Especially during difficult seasons.

Especially when life feels heavy.

Especially when the world feels loud and fractured.

Sometimes art reminds us how to feel human again.

Sometimes all we really need is music, movement, laughter, beautiful costumes, dramatic lighting, impossible emotions, and a room full of people willing to believe in a story together for a little while.

Maybe that’s why theater still matters so much.

Maybe that’s why it always will.