I’m working on a production of a show called The Drowsy Chaperone. The (simplified) set-up is that we see a guy alone in his apartment. He speaks to the audience, we learn that he loves musicals, and wants to share his favorite, The Drowsy Chaperone, with them. He puts on the record of the cast recording, and the actors from the musical ‘come to life’, acting out the show in his living room, while he occasionally narrates and quips about the musical, the history of the actors, etc etc.
The play-within-a-play is a very cheesy, kind of stupid melodrama, and the whole show is basically a comedy; a loving send-up of old-school musicals.
Anyway, after the record ends, we get a small monologue from the guy in his apartment. I won’t spoil it, and I don’t think it would come across the same out of context anyway, but I’m watching the actor, holding back tears, and thinking, “why the heck am I crying, this is a comedy?!”
What are other pieces of work that lull you into a false sense of meaninglessness, that then hit you with significance in the final scene?
Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father. It’s a documentary/video capsule made for the son of the filmmaker’s deceased best friend. As such it’s never completely meaningless, but the last 20 minutes are some of the most eviscerating moments committed to film.
The problem with threads like this is that the are always spoilers for people who have not seen them. I was lucky enough to see these films in the theater without being spoiled, and more importantly, not having any idea that there was anything to spoil. Someone telling me “That film has a great twist” is as much a spoiler as telling me what the twist is, because I’ll be expecting a twist in the back of my mind.
I was very lucky to see The Sixth Sense in the theater not having the faintest idea that a twist existed. That gave the film tremendous emotional power.