That’s how I felt while watching The Daily Miracle this past Sunday at Bain St Michel. Written by David Sherman and directed by Infinitheatre’s Guy Sprung, the play offers a behind-the-scenes glimpse at a fictitious big-city daily on a particularly stressful night. The daily paper may be a work of fiction, but the realities of working the desk in today’s deteriorating newspaper industry are only too real.
As upper management convenes in a room to discuss the future (or possible demise) of the paper, four overworked and stressed out copy editors try to put out the day’s final edition before deadline, as they debate their uncertain future.
To a journalist in the audience, it was like looking in the mirror. While I laughed out loud during this dark comedy, I also found myself squirming uncomfortably. The deadlines, the cynicism, the chase for real news despite severe cutbacks and reduced personnel, the stress that makes you lose your hair (or your mind)… it’s all there. Sherman remembers well the look and feel of a newsroom and the love-hate relationship that journalists have with it.
“Why do you stay if you all hate being here so much?” yells young tech-savvy Carrie, representing the new generation of journalists attempting to land a fulltime job in a field that is facing an existential crisis.
“They don’t hate being here,” explains the wise, much older, much more cynical Elizabeth. “They love it; it just doesn’t love them back.” Ouch.
While the entire cast is solid, Westmount resident Arthur Holden gets all the best laughs playing Marty, a crotchety, pill-popping editor who has just come back to work after suffering a nervous breakdown. Eccentric, outspoken and on the verge of another meltdown, Holden had the audience in stitches for most of his performance. He’s a bit of a caricature, yet he feels oddly real to those of us who have spent more than a few years in a deadline-driven newsroom.
There’s a tired old cliché in newsrooms – where the newspaper is referred to as the daily miracle. When one considers every aspect that comes together, every day (or every week, if you work for a weekly), to produce a newspaper it’s no wonder it’s a cliché – it really is a miracle.
As newspaper sales decline, editorial space diminishes and a majority of news migrates to websites, it’s become an even tougher business to make a living in.
“It’s only a job, Marty – it’s not the priesthood,” yells the supervising editor. To which Marty sarcastically replies: “I know. Priests get sexual favours.” But it is the priesthood. Journalism is a calling. No one goes into journalism for the big bucks. You become a reporter because you love to report the news. It’s a labour of love that today has become a painful daily practice in patience and positive thinking. The play conveys that struggle well.
The Daily Miracle runs through Feb. 14 at the Bain Saint Michel, 5300 St. Dominique St. Tickets: $20, $15 student/senior. Call 514-987-1774 or go to www.infinitheatre.com
The Daily Miracle entertains and cuts like a knife
A bittersweet tribute to print journalists
One can certainly watch “Grey’s Anatomy” and thoroughly enjoy it without being a physician, but there are details and inside jokes that I suppose only a doctor would get.
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