Light streams through the enormous windows of Morrison Hall at Little Rock's historic Trinity Episcopal Cathedral during a July rehearsal of Rent, a rock musical based loosely on the opera La Boheme that is set in New York during the AIDS crisis.
About a dozen cast members from Community Theatre of Little Rock's summer production have been working here all afternoon. They lie on the stage and sit cross-legged on folding chairs, some studying the 118-page script as others swipe through emails on their phones. Empty water bottles and soft drink cups litter corners and tables.
On this day, the cast is stretched thin: One has a wedding, two have to work and four or five others are participating in Little Rock's 48-hour film festival.
"Let's do it anyway," says director Frank Butler, and the pianist squeaks out comical imitations for both lead parts, including a passable soprano.
It's a scene that is played out at gatherings like this one in basements, churches, theaters and high school auditoriums across Arkansas, with or without air-conditioning, with or without the entire cast or crew.
But the show must go on.
"This is our love, this is our passion, but it's not our day jobs," says Chris Boggs, board president of Community Theatre of Little Rock. "The majority of us will never get a chance to step on a Broadway stage. The majority of us will probably never get out of the central Arkansas region."
Today's community theater is no longer just "let's go out to the barn and have a show," says Rebecca Burton, board president of the Arkansas Community Theater Association. The common thread among the state's nearly 50 formal and informal community theaters is a dependence on local volunteers.
"The fact that these people get off work and then come down to the theater at night to rehearse or build sets or stuff envelopes until 11 p.m. is so exciting and speaks well for the creative core of central Arkansas," says James Norris, executive director of The Weekend Theater of Little Rock.
That makes these organizations different from professional theaters such as the Arkansas Repertory Theatre, which casts paid, mostly unionized actors from around the country, says Allyson Pittman, director of marketing at the Rep.
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Fort Smith Little Theatre has been a volunteer organization since its founding in 1947, according to board vice president Rham Cunningham. Social media have played "a huge role" in recruitment and retention of volunteers and cast members, he says. The website and Facebook page allow for the theater to quickly find people qualified in specific areas -- lighting or making costumes, for instance.
Funding chairman Nancy Blochberger says the company's board president, Cecelia Woods-McDonald, says it best, quoting from a recent email: "People have to realize that theater is a team sport, especially community theater. There are many roles -- all are important, but only a few take center stage. That's the core of community theater."
A strong volunteer base and community support have kept Fort Smith Little Theatre financially stable, Blochberger says.
"We focused on keeping tickets affordable; average ticket is $10, which opens accessibility to the public. We jokingly call ourselves working man's theater." Season and single-ticket sales are supplemented by donations, a few grants, show sponsorships and other activities. The theater also has "a modest endowment," Blochberger says.
Fort Smith Little Theatre owns its own facility at 401 N. Sixth St. and produces six major shows and a couple of off-season performances each year, with a combined attendance of almost 2,000, Blochberger says.
"We also really watch every penny ... reuse lumber, mix paints to create new colors; we get discounts from local vendors, some funding from city, donations of materials and supplies; owning a facility is a real privilege and it's a financial responsibility."
Arkansas Community Theater Association, formed in 2006, organizes annual meetings and encourages members of the theater community to pool creative resources. Faced with a declining interest in the arts and increasingly shorter life cycles for fledgling theaters, Burton said the association recognizes that theater must risk reinvention.
"Our goal is to constantly keep people aware that live theater is still out there," Burton says. "Community theater, especially, is still out there."
Sometimes reinvention or change leads to an audience boost and creative rebirth; sometimes it's fatal.
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In the late 1980s a group of retirees at Cooper Communities in Bella Vista banded together to form the Village Players, a creative outlet for lifelong performers.
"If you love being in front of audiences, there's nothing better," former board member Patrick Kunnecke says.
The finished product was less important than the process of creating, Kunnecke says. By the late '90s, the company proclaimed itself Northwest Arkansas' oldest running community theater group. In 2000, the players had to leave their performing space. They moved to Northwest Arkansas Community College in Bentonville.
With the move, audiences declined. No one from Bella Vista wanted to drive home in the dark, Kunnecke says, and middle-aged executives in Bentonville didn't want to see a play after work.
"I'm not going to say theater in general is dead," Kunnecke says, "but older mysteries, comedy, slapstick, is leaving. When people do go see shows, they want something new, expressive theater, less words, less movement."
The Village Players staged its final performance in May 2013.
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Baby boomers and children are the main demographics in community theater, Burton says, and the age gap between participants is widening.
Initially, it's not hard to attract children to theater, says Melissa Glover of The Royal Players in Benton. Her two sons have participated in at least a dozen plays in the past three years, and Zachary, 10, was the youngest actor in Saline County Shakes' June production of Much Ado About Nothing. In theater, the Glover boys found a social creativity that was missing in activities like soccer and swimming.
But young people often quit theater after junior high and high school, when extracurricular activities, college prep and relationships compete for their attention, Glover says.
To bridge the awkward limbo between a summer activity and an adult commitment, The Royal Players divides the children's troupe, The Young Players, into two groups: grade school through junior high and high school through college. Glover says the theater also tries to schedule shows so college students can participate during Christmas and summer breaks.
"We [community theaters] are missing out on a group of kids who are 'finding themselves,'" Glover says. "We're trying to retain that 20-something group."
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Boggs says even longstanding organizations like the Community Theatre of Little Rock, which completed its 58th season this year, struggle to attract audiences.
"The sad reality of community theater being nonprofit is that every bit of money we receive goes into another show," Boggs says. "So if we don't have a good enough audience, we'll go into another show with a tighter budget."
A tighter budget could mean a lower-quality show and an even smaller audience, he says.
It's a business, Boggs says, a concept new theater groups rarely grasp before they are mired in debt and disinterest. Success takes time, effort and experience. For example, Community Theatre of Little Rock members painstakingly reviewed 62 shows and 17 scripts before presenting five shows to the board of directors for the 2014-2015 season.
Community Theatre of Little Rock, which has moved several times, recently moved again. Performances are now held at Studio Theatre, 320 W. Seventh St., in Little Rock, a new space it shares with the Precipice and Studio theater troupes.
The venture is different, Boggs says, because the Studio Theatre's founders are veterans from theaters across the state. They had a vision for something new and gutted the old Balfour Printing Co. to build the 99-seat theater and piano bar. They polled the public for ideas and remain open to revision.
There are two camps in support of community theater, directors say.
"I think you're someone who appreciates it and thinks it's valuable or it's not even on your radar," Glover says.
The hardest part is getting on the radar, say the Studio Theatre founders. Reinvention and longevity mean staying in touch with the community, using new ideas and new methods, trying new shows and learning from what does and does not work.
"We actively pursue anyone and everyone who has a desire to be involved," Boggs says. "Facebook and the website have been a godsend. We're getting the word out. But it's slow progress and always will be."
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Why do they do this?
"It gives us a sense of purpose," says Brittany Sparkles, who played Mimi in Rent. "It's a form of self-expression, but it's a way for us to be appreciated. We get up there, we do our parts, and we don't get paid at the end of the day. But you know that someone saw you. Someone saw you up there."
Anthony Magee was supposed to play a role in Rent, but was sidelined by a mini-stroke four days before opening night. He felt well enough to see the show during its run.
"I would have felt bad if I didn't see it," he says. "We're a family."
"I do think hard before I audition," says Cunningham of Fort Smith. "It takes an incredible amount of time. The reward at the end of it -- you're just glad it's over. Then two days later you really miss it. We all sell tickets, work on sets, clean up, whatever needs to be done.
"You're exhausted at the end, but to hear that applause makes it worth it, and you want to come back for more."
For more information: Fort Smith Little Theatre, fslt.org, (479) 783-2966; Community Theatre of Little Rock, ctlr-act.org, (501) 410-2283; The Royal Players, theroyalplayers.com/wp, (501) 315-5483; Weekend Theater, weekendtheater.org, (501) 374-3761; Studio Theatre, thestudiotheatre.org; Saline County Shakes, facebook.com/SalineCountyShakes, Arkansas Community Theater Association, arcta.net.
Style on 08/17/2014