The Value and Necessity of Live Theater Recordings


For most of us, the past week has had one big positive: watching Hamilton (2020) on Disney+. I would put myself on that list, enjoying the Broadway phenomenon from the comfort of my home. Besides just being a very enjoyable and meaningful show, it’s amazing to admit that it also has some of the best framing composition for a live recording musical since Cats (1998), which may have been high on schmaltz, but had an endless supply of shots that lingered with you. For any of its flaws, Hamilton has produced a document that paints its legacy in the best possible light. The five years of waiting have been worth it, and the only thing that could’ve made the special better was if we lived in a normal world where we could’ve seen it on the big screen, surrounded by likeminded individuals geeking out to “The Room Where It Happens.”

Among the many conversations that arose in the week following its release, the one that interested me most was the one that I have been advocating for as long as I’ve been into theater. With Hamilton now considered a phenomenon on streaming as well, one has to wonder what will stop this trend from continuing, where the biggest shows in stage history won’t be preserved on celluloid for audiences to discover years later, understanding that THIS is why people like Daveed Diggs are great. They took the stage and made it a more exciting place to be.

I think of the endless talents that mainstream audiences don’t know because, well, there is no concrete document. Oh sure, there are several ways that you can see these people in action. You can buy cast recordings, watch YouTube videos of the Tony Awards, or even in the case of Company watch a documentary where you see Elaine Stritch struggle to sing “The Ladies Who Lunch.” If you’re great enough, there is a paper trail that can make you appreciate them but only in fragments. 

Many of the theater’s greatest shows don’t have a recorded version like Hamilton. Some have it too late after the main attraction has retired. Don’t get me wrong. Hamilton is a miracle because of this. I find myself enthused that they had the foresight to pull this off. But I imagine how much I love The Book of Mormon and Dear Evan Hansen and wonder what it would be like to see Andrew Rannells in his prime singing “I Believe.” Even news that Ben Platt might be getting too old for the potential Dear Evan Hansen movie gives me a disappointment that another career-defining moment from an actor will soon be nothing but an unachievable memory.

This is of course to argue that most of these shows don’t secretly have recordings in their private stock. I like to think that they all do, but I think theater still works in some ways like a hierarchy, where only the best shows need to be preserved because who is honestly interested in that King Kong musical (raises hand)? I want these moments to be captured because I find value in the sense of discovery. Since the pandemic started, I’ve taken to watching live recordings almost weekly and am captivated by the talent I’ve discovered. Sure, not everyone directs as well as James Lapine, but it’s only through exposure sometimes that we can appreciate these talents. Without visual accompaniment, they’re sometimes impersonal in the way that a Scott Joplin ragtime song is. 

We can only imagine what makes these shows special. That is also why certain shows have retained their appeal for decades while others have faltered. I think of Cats, which has the power to elevate that show’s reputation into mythic proportions. Because there is a way to watch this strange little curio, more people will know this show. They will know what it looks like, that it’s full of these twirling dances. I’d go so far as to argue that Grizabella the Glamour Cat is one of the most recognizable images because of our ability to see Elaine Paige sing “Memory.” 


Even in the world of more cinematic takes, having a document helps to create reputations that could flourish. While Rodgers & Hammerstein were progenitors on Broadway, I don’t know that more modern generations would have the same affection for them if films like Oklahoma! (1955), South Pacific (1958), and The Sound of Music (1965) weren’t there for an evening movie, playing on local broadcasting and introducing audiences to a world that they otherwise wouldn’t know.

This isn’t a foolproof plan, as some shows have driven their own crossover pop hits, but the real marker of success is having a filmed version. This is because of one simple fact: Broadway is only in one state. Even if you take in touring productions, not everyone will have access to these shows, let alone be able to appreciate the actors that the theater community cherish because they don’t have that opportunity. 


Oh sure, there’s some crossover appeal and you get people like Patti Lupone and Mandy Patinkin as minor movie stars, but much like Gwen Stefani can be known for The Voice to one generation, a solo artist to another, and the singer of No Doubt to a third, it’s difficult to say that all of this will be mutual. In a few cases, I’d even argue that their star power doesn’t translate to film. For instance, I loved Lupone in Company (2011), but she doesn’t exactly stand out on the Ryan Murphy show Hollywood. At the same time, people consider her the definitive Evita Peron, but outside of the album recording, there’s little way for me to refute this (though I’d still agree because boy do those songs kill).

Compare that to Hamilton. Because of the Disney+ special (and likely home release), people will remember what this show is, they will know what every character looks like and every piece of choreography. It has become a part of the culture that is warranted. Of course, I feel every show should have this, to show to the world what live theater looks like. If it’s going to cost so much, you need an incentive to go, and sometimes local productions aren’t enough. It’s why familiar hits run rampant. You need something trustworthy. 

To close out this column, I want to shift to my ulterior motive. Now that you know that I want every Broadway show ever filmed for preservation’s sake, I suppose that I should begin answering the question: which show do I think deserves it the most. Oh sure, we should have The Book of Mormon just to remember its cultural impact on musical culture. The same should be said for A Chorus Line before. Life will be loathsome if Hadestown isn’t being saved for a future release. 


But honestly, we need to get our act together and get Come From Away a live recording.

Go ahead and argue differently, but I want to pose another thing that’s difficult about theater. Not every show is designed for a cinematic interpretation. Some stories require minimalism or suspension of disbelief. To give them a permanent visual component takes away small things, and it’s doubtful that mainstream audiences will be able to appreciate a story if the fantasy is made too literal. Sure the best of filmmakers will pull this off, but frankly, there aren’t enough quality movie musical filmmakers working right now to give me faith.

Come From Away is one of those shows. It’s been announced that it currently is in talks for film rights, and it makes perfect sense. This is one of those feel-good stories that is deserving of widespread attention. For what it’s worth, there has been effort put into sharing this story through the documentary You Are Here (2018), but it’s not the same. That is more of a behind the scenes look of things (though a very interesting one at that). You get the essence, but I don’t know that it will make you care more about the show than you did walking in.

To give a quick rundown of the show: it’s a story about Operation Yellow Ribbon. On September 11, 2001, a series of airplanes were diverted to Gander, Newfoundland. A town of a few hundred inflated to several thousand in a matter of days, and this is the story of humanity coming together in times of crisis. The songbook is excellent. Over the course of one act, the world is introduced to a small cast that comes to represent hundreds of these characters. Because of the overlap, it allows for this subliminal understanding of how unified and similar humanity is. Oh sure there are squabbles, but it all builds to one of the most heartwarming musicals I have ever seen.

I would go so far as to say, with limited hyperbole, that it is THE greatest piece of art discussing 9/11 that has ever been released.

Try as I might, I have not seen everything to ever use 9/11 as its source material. However, I do know that where a story can be successful, I don’t know that many capture the emotional depth of a moment quite like Come From Away. It isn’t that it’s the densest, but it captures something that the days following The World Trade Center Attacks brought out in everyone. It was despair and worry, a need to work together to make the world a better place. The amazing hat trick of this story is how it takes hundreds of stories and makes them all feel like they’re heard, and all without diving too much into despair or message-heavy subtext.

I knew nothing about it before I saw it at The Ahmanson back in 2018. I knew that it was considered great, but what else could I really say about it? I guarantee that even in the best scenario for a film adaptation, it won’t capture what it’s like to walk into a theater and watch the show abruptly start, welcoming you to “the rock” before unwinding this story. By the end of the first song, your senses are overjoyed by the characters, action, and music. While I love a lot of shows more, Come From Away may be the most indicative achievement of what theater can achieve in the modern era.

It’s a story that sticks with you not only because it makes the massive scope feel intimate, but also because of what it says. In recent years, I have felt like stories of community and helping others (in this case complete strangers from around the world) are needed to be heard. Sure Hamilton presents a just as fruitful conversation about listening to everyone’s voice, but Come From Away feels richer in how it looked at the tragedy and decided to be humane about it. This is a sad story, but it’s more likely to make you laugh and feel welcome. This is how I want the world to be seen. This is something that deserves to be held up and immortalized in the same way that Cats was before, and no film version will do it justice.

Most of all, I want it to be done as soon as possible because it feels essential that COVID-19 ends soon just so it can tour in 2021. The world needs to hear this story in 2021 because, even to my surprise, we are a little over a year out from 9/11’s 20th anniversary. 


The world is a much different place now, and a lot of credit is owed to 9/11. Let it never be forgotten, always remembered every year with stories that recall that harrowing day. But for as sad as that day is, I suggest that the world needs to come together, at least on 9/11 in 2021, and hear Come From Away’s story. It paints a clarity that reminds us that we’re human. As much sadness can be acquired from those we lost, the fact that people sacrificed their resources to help others in times of need is something that deserves to be heralded. You Are Here may already get the point across, but it feels like a whimper compared to the show it’s documenting.

In a time where Hamilton reminds us that art has the potential to bring us together and start a conversation, living as this permanent immortality, it’s important to ask which one of these stories deserve to be preserved, replayed annually to remind us of something that reality can’t properly explain. 

Considering that very few stories have adequately captured the feeling of being alive during 9/11, it only makes Come From Away feel all the more special. Without a live recording, it’s going to remain this obscure hit, reduced to being played from theater fans’ stereos. My dream for September 9, 2021, is to find a local network broadcasting Come From Away, starting a new tradition that adds a shining light in such a dark time. 

Every story deserves to be heard, but if this one doesn’t get off the ground I worry that it will be one of the greatest missed opportunities in celebrating art that better explains our past in ways that makes it fuller and more alive than it was before. 

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