You – just you – walk into an empty space. The only thing visible is a note with a phone number on it, and when the voice on the other line picks up, it asks you to acknowledge that you are completely alone. It tells you to close your eyes. Fall backward, it says. Someone will be there to catch you.
Writer Lee Winters is shocked that most of the audience members at It’s Nice to See You followed through on this trust fall. The script, written for a single person, doesn’t punish anyone for choosing not to. You – just you – are one of four audience members (termed ‘player’ by Winters and director Mollie Frankel) who pass through a series of individual scenes, each played out by different actors in different orders with different consequences. Every player shares the same opening scene, and finally meets for the very last. You, however, choose how much to be involved in between. Intimacy is an agreement, and It’s Nice to See You asks if you can have it even when you know it’s artificial
“We both kept envisioning it like a big machine,” Winters describes. “You start here, then you move to here and here and here. We had so many diagrams of you going through a series of scenes that consisted of a one on one interaction that involved the audience member leaning in in a way they might not normally feel comfortable [doing] just to see how they react, to see if they can take a type of leap of faith, to lean into some disingenuous theatrical situation.”
“There were so many times where people ended up in tears,” says Frankel, reflecting on the audience member’s freedom. “There were also times where they sat in silence and ended up just playing dominoes, literally.”
The two forge the project out of a desire to connect, a need made especially clear during the pandemic. Winters’s theater initiative, Wonderfullest Things, is founded with the belief that mainstream productions miss out on the most important part of art: empathy. Shows that center the audience and make strangers turn in their seats to talk to one another are the ones that make the deepest impact, both to Winters and a broader public. Projects like It’s Nice to See You, in public spaces, reveal themselves as a kind of radical experiment in how connection is possible.
“Humans are desperate to interact and empathize with other humans,” Winters explains. “When that proscenium facade goes away, you have no other option but to say, I’m going to treat you as a real person, because you are treating me as one.”
In most scenes, a single player encounters a single performer, interacting with each other one on one. In some cases, however, strangers who have no idea what’s happening join in on the experience. While it seems counterintuitive that a show designed for the individual could breed community, Winters and Frankel see it happen again and again.
“The very, very first performance, there were two audience members who were talking to each other at the end of the show, and then ended up getting dinner together,” Winters remembers. “These were people who did not know each other an hour before. I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”
Connection underscores the production. When a scene gets particularly emotional for an audience member, Frankel and Winters have the performers extend the experience, even if it means throwing off a scene schedule timed down to the minute. Their priority was letting the interaction reach its natural conclusion, and letting the player feel the depth of their emotions.
“[There was] one actor who was incredible at just getting an audience member talking. And after every performance, he would come up to us and be like, oh, you know that guy who came to see the show? And he’ll tell this unbelievable story about this total stranger. I’m wondering what part of the show this information came out to him– where all this came up. And I adored it. I adored that we were giving audience members space to interact in that way.”
The audience members are not the only ones designed to be individuals – the actors are, too. Despite multiple actors each performing the same scene, Frankel is careful to ensure that they never see each other’s interpretations so they retain their own unique take. This is one of many logistical challenges the production confronts, as performers can’t rehearse around anyone who shares their scene.
“It’s about finding this kind of balance of you’re still a performer and you’re playing a part, but not playing a character,” Frankel says. “You’re still yourself. And it was taking these pieces that were so wonderfully written and finding where that kind of you’re walking that middle line of performer and individual and meeting in the middle.”
One of these scenes involves the actor receiving a phone call in the middle. This is, of course, scripted, but by that point the boundaries between performance and experience are blurred so deftly that many audience members can’t tell the difference. While many listen and have heartfelt conversations about what they overhear, some are polite, believing they shouldn’t eavesdrop. In It’s Nice to See You, both options are correct.
“In other shows, if you as a viewer are not able to suspend that disbelief it kind of ruins it for you, right?” Frankel asks. “Here, even the players who struggled to suspend their disbelief were still able to get a lot out of it.”
This audience flexibility is only one indication of the production’s immense malleability. Not only are actors prepared to deal with any number of player reactions, the team themselves were open to – and, at times, forced to – shift at a moment’s notice. Amid thunderstorm forecasts, Frankel and Winters have to find an entirely new indoor location at the last minute. This, they say, ended up being a blessing in disguise, appreciative of the improvised choices that underscored the very ethos of the production. When someone is sitting at the bench a performer was planning on using, they find secondary locations that often end up being better than what was originally intended. Performers and players are considered collaborators, shaping the performance in ways Winters and Frankel hadn’t ever considered.
“There was an adaptability during the process that a lot of the times you don’t think about when you think about theater, because when you’re doing a typical show, you have to set it,” Frankel says . “I’ve always felt theater is very collaborative. I approach things in a very collaborative way […] Through this process, I was able to even take a bigger step back of – not only is theater collaborative and is the processing collaborative, but every little element can be inclusive.”
You – just you – are a part of this show. Let yourself fall backward.
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