“Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will b banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.” – Mark Twain

I agree with Mark.

Once Upon a Mattress is a comedy, to put it simply. First and foremost, the goal of the performance tonight is to entertain you. Sure, it may not have you laughing at every turn, but I guarantee that it will make you happy. And, if it doesn’t, we’ve already got your $5, so really, who cares?

Just kidding; I do care about you. Seriously thought: no refunds.

I’ve always thought of it as silly when people write off “musicals” or “comedies” as some sort of lesser art form than “dramas,” as if the absence of “dramatic” factors also means an absence of overall legitimacy. Guess at? It doesn’t! To me they are art forms of equal merit, because a great comedy has the same requirements as a great drama: steadfast commitment to character, expert timing, and complete dedication to the moment at hand. However, if you’re the type of person who disagrees with what I just said, you probably didn’t come see this show.

However, I don’t want to use this space to spout all of my brilliant philosophies on life, comedy, and the true meaning of the show (like, for instance, how the King’s mute nature represents the reverse oppression of the modern upper class, or how Princess Winnifred’s backstory is a cleverly crafted allegory for the Vietnam War). No, I won’t do that; I don’t want to reveal too much of my divinely inspired and, if I may say, genius artistic vision.

The experience I’ve had over the last three months has been amazing. It’s sometimes hard for me to go to sleep after our rehearsals, because I am on such a post-practice high just remembering what we accomplished that night. I’ll just sit in bed thinking about who did what perfectly, who became better friends with whom, and what moments of which scene looked the best they’ve ever looked. This type of sugar-rush insomnia can only be attributed to the possibility that I’m losing my mind, the fact that I’m having the time of my life, or my burgeoning cocaine habit. Probably a mix of the three.

However, I did not and could never have done all of this alone. Elizabeth, Emily, Jake, Jamie, Juli, Ran, Ryan and Tory: Thank you so much. More than anyone, you constantly showed selflessness, creativity, and energy every single night, and never put yourselves before the well-being of the cast or the show itself. Together we did what none of us could have done alone, and we became better friends than we already were in the process. I could not have asked for anything more. 

Of course, this show could not have been done without the help of our efficient and hardworking technical staff. Unfortunately I do not have the space to name them all, but I must mention Emily Riggs, the Technical Director. Without all that she was in charge of, there is a 90% chance that right now you’d be seeing this show performed naked and silently in a back alleyway somewhere near Harris Teeter (and probably very poorly lit, as well).

I’d also like to graciously thank the FYP selections committee for giving me this opportunity, especially Nicole Domanski, for her unwavering trust in me, the reassuring sound of her laugh at rehearsals, and her obsession with showering the cast and artistic staff with support, dedication, and cookies.

Casties: you could never know how much I care about you. I can only hope that years from now, you remember this experience not for the solos you had, the costumes you wore, or the dances you nailed, but for the relationships that you’ve forged. I can say with the utmost surety that you will keep many of the friendships you made for the rest of your college years, and some for the rest of your life. The reason I can write this so confidently is because I will not let you not stay friends with me. I’ll be appearing everywhere you go: behind you in dining halls, across from you in discussion sections, and in your bushes outside your dining room window during your family’s Thanksgiving dinner, screaming “Hey! Remember Once Upon a Mattress?!?” for your hole neighborhood to hear. That’s true love, ya’ll.

A warning: I’m going to use this penultimate paragraph to pompously and shamelessly thank those who’ve helped only me, so only read on if you know me/are bored waiting for the show to start. First of all, thank you Mr. Pafumi, for generously lending me both costumes and, unbeknownst to you, a couple of stolen ideas. Thank you to the Whethermen (my other UVa family), my friends from home (you know who you are), and my friends from school not on A-staff or in the cast (yes, both of you) for putting up with my recent unavailability and for being generally great best-pals. Also, thank you, Eric Eyerman-Everingham, for your constant support, advice, and big brotherly love, and for showing me a year and a half ago how influential a director in this organization could be. Most importantly, however, thank you to my family for constantly supporting me in everything I do. More specifically, thank you, Mom, for getting me my first role in musical theatre, when I was a 5-year old Forgetty the Elephant in the Beaumont KIDmunity Player’s award-winning production of The Friendship Club. I hope you like the show.

One more thing: if you see something you thought was funny, poignant, or enjoyable, thank a cast member. If you see something you thought was hackneyed, out of place, or just too silly, come talk to me after the show. I’ll be the one looking like he’s wearing his dad’s dress shirt, sobbing and drawing maps to each of the cast member’s homes.

Enjoy the show!
--Kevin Knickerbocker, Director