Somewhere Next to Normal

I moved to Normal 13 years ago. Well technically, somewhere right next to Normal, Illinois. I stayed there for 3 years. We had a Normal police force, I spent hours in the Normal Public Library and I would have graduated from Normal Community High School had I not moved back to Korea.

But apart from a geographical definition, I don’t know where (or what) normal actually is. I don’t think any of us do, not really. In a way, we’re all trying to live somewhere next to normal, or at least close enough to normal to get by. We wander between our personal version of normality and a slightly more macroscopic vision of it, trying to find a place to be. The musical Next to Normal sheds light on the Goodman family as they explore the meaning of normality, both individually and as a family.

The first production of this musical I saw was the original Korean cast version about a year ago. The cast included some of the most veteran performers in Korean musical theater history, including one of my favorite music director-turned-performer Kolleen Park as Diana and Kyungju Nam as her husband. The show received mixed reviews from both the critics and the public, though it did return for a second run a few months later. It was a love it or hate it thing, with people becoming ardent fans of the actors and the piece itself or leaving the theater with nothing more than disappointment. I fell into the former category—I came away from it with many ‘feels.’

My favorite element of the show was how the stage was utilized—a minimalist set, with only the bare skeleton of a third story house transposing into a woman’s face. It served as an effective visual metaphor for the multiple layers that the musical moves between. In addition, the actors moving vertically up and down the stage instead of the traditional horizontal layout broke many of the conceptions I’d held about utilizing stage space. It was one of the few times I didn’t regret sitting on the second floor—watching Jaelim Choi (who has since become one of my favorite musical performers) belt out I’m Alive right in front of my eyes is an experience I’ll never forget.

The set in the Ann Arbor Civic Theater production that I watched today wasn’t as grandiose. Still, a small scaffold on stage with hanging backdrops of house elements actually fit in with the more intimate take on the piece. It was interesting how differently I responded to the show from a year ago; I reacted to different things, picked up different meanings and made previously nonexistent connections. Part of this was definitely the different production—language, scale, direction and so on—but most of it was how much I’d changed. I reacted strongly to Natalie’s character last year, especially during ‘Everything Else.’ Having just gone through the college application process with a burning desire to escape, everything else did go away for me during that song.

But this time around, I found myself crying as Diana sang of missing the mountains, missing a life and a self she had known before. During the past year, I’d developed a fear that I might someday sing that song, feel that emotion. While thinking about the future, I I’d developed a fear of regret, constantly questioning whether I’m making the right choices that I will not regret later. Dan’s character was more fully realized for me as well, especially towards the end of the second half when we see how Diana’s illness has affected him. That shift in perspective didn’t work for me the first time around, mostly because of the scale and the different cultural context.

I wonder how I’ll view Next to Normal in 30 years. Perhaps I’d be a mother (hopefully a happier one than Diana) by then? The shows, books, music and other media we come into contact evolve with us as we change; at the same time, they remind us of who we used to be. Whether something is ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ well-staged or well-written or ‘crappy,’ this kind of personal connection is what really makes a piece special.