Brett Young sits in a taxi, watching the dice dangle and turning his head, taking a mental note to visit the restaurant after rehearsal.
On stage, he plays his guitar and sings.
The driver stops at the back of the Tivoli Theater. He gets out and walks through a black curtain. In the hallway, he takes off his jacket. Crew members are holding flashlights. His stylist brushes the back of his t-shirt. He walks into the dressing room and leans into the counter, looking the counter. The stylists tuck in his shirt and fix strands of his hair.
He leaves the dressing room. A person follows behind him, holding a flashlight, lighting the way to the stage. A crew member hands him his guitar. He walks on stage, sits on the stool and begins to perform.
He imagines his ex-girlfriend, smiling and proud, thinking of the memories which made up the lyrics. A crew member takes his guitar once he finishes and she disappears.
He jumps off stage, walking past the rows of seats. He puts on his jacket in the lobby, glances at the ticket booth and then leaves. He puts his hands in his pockets as he walks down the street.
Rehearsing is something Brett Young would like to avoid. It’s a plodding chore that means constant run-throughs and fixes. Without an audience, it’s similar to being stuck in a cubicle for eight hours straight.
He doesn’t seem to show an interest in anything outside of performing. He glances at a place he saw in a city but otherwise gazes looks ahead. People rush to him once he arrives but he doesn’t acknowledge them.
The young woman in the audience, though, listens and tears up, the emotion of the words hitting her. Through her eyes, she develops a complicated history with Young. However, he doesn’t reciprocate.
Director: Jennifer Rothlein Year: 2017