So...Let's Talk About That Bad Final Dress Reharsal

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

Well… that was something, wasn’t it?

If you’re sitting there feeling like tonight’s final dress rehearsal was less Broadway-ready and more chaotic dress parade, let me tell you: you’re exactly where you need to be. Really. I promise.

Somewhere deep in the laws of theatre, right next to "never say Macbeth backstage" and "someone will always forget a prop until two minutes before curtain," there’s a rule that says: A rough final dress leads to a great opening night. It's basically science. (Or at least very aggressive superstition. Same thing.)

Here’s the thing: bad final dress rehearsals are a rite of passage.

They’re a necessary part of the process. They shake all the weird, nervous energy out. They reveal the tiny things that need tightening. And maybe, just maybe, they humble us a little bit before we get too confident and start monologuing to the wrong side of the audience. (It happens. We move on.)

Now, some advice — the real kind:

• Take a deep breath.

• Laugh a little.

• Make a quick mental note of what you personally want to clean up. (Maybe that entrance that looked like a confused tourist? Or that costume change that turned into interpretive dance?) And then, let tonight go. Seriously. Release it like a bad 90s pop song you can’t get out of your head.

Because tomorrow isn’t a rehearsal. Tomorrow is the show.

Tomorrow you get an audience — and audiences are magic. They forgive stumbles. They love heart. They cheer for moments you think they didn’t even notice. They want to root for you.

And more than anything, tomorrow you’ll finally get to do what you signed up for: tell a story, live, in the messy, beautiful, unpredictable way only theatre allows.

Here’s one more secret no one tells you:

• Opening night isn’t about perfection.

• It’s about energy.

• It’s about trust.

• It’s about loving the show and each other enough to laugh through the mishaps and still make magic.

So drink some water. Get some sleep. Tape your props down with more gaff tape than a NASA launch if you have to. Then show up ready to share what you’ve built — even if it’s a little wobbly around the edges.

You’re ready. You’re more ready than you think. And honestly, if tonight was the dress rehearsal disaster? Tomorrow’s going to feel like a standing ovation.

Break legs, you brilliant, resilient, wonderfully chaotic humans.