Director’s Blog: “Parfumerie”

by Adrienne Sweeney

­I know a couple in their “Senior” years, the husband in the early stages of Alzheimers. Every single major holiday since they’ve been together, the wife would wake up to a card, sealed, on the kitchen table signed, “Your Loving Husband.” And then, in case there might be a doubt, he’d add his name.

Last Valentine’s Day she came downstairs and, for the first time ever, there was no card.

Little cracks occurred in many hearts that morning – hers, their children and nieces and nephews, the children’s friends, whom ever was in the line of the emotional sharing.  The children and cousins and grandchildren rallied and sent bouquets and chocolates and balloons, but none of it would bear the signature: “Your Loving Husband.”

And then the magic happened.

When she returned home from work that evening there was a card on the kitchen table, signed “Your Loving Husband.”

It turned out that when the gentleman arrived at the Senior Facility where he spends his days they were selling generic Valentines cards for $1. And the strength of this man’s love for his wife punctured the grey cloud of Alzheimer’s. Maybe for the last time. No one knows. Nor do I care because THIS time, THIS moment, love really did conquer all.

If you’d watch that scene in a movie (a befuddled Craig T. Nelson would present a stoic Diane Keaton with the card while the children looked on, hugging each other) you’d scoff. “Well THAT never happens!” you’d say to yourself. But it does. And it did. And when my mom scanned the card and emailed it to us all, my family and friends wept.

And that’s why I wanted to direct Parfumerie. Because I really, truly believe in the power of love to make the world a better place. I’ve seen firsthand, I’ve experienced personally, this power.

This probably goes without saying but I am a romantic comedy junkie. Anything with Hugh Grant – I’m in. Add a little Sandra Bullock and I’m taking root on the couch. I love my romcoms sprinkled with a bit of bite to take the edge off the sweetness.  Gives it a more “realistic” feel.  That’s what I love about Parfumerie. For as sweet and cute as it is, there’s a bit of a bite. And that bite – the older couple dealing with infidelity and facing life alone after decades of marriage – puts the young love into perspective. It’s life. It’s real. It gives us that range, that gamut. Yes love is sweet and patient and gentle and kind and sometimes it also just really sucks.  It’s when you can navigate through the horrible times – that’s when you know you’ve got something special. And (here’s the part I love MOST about this play) the only way to navigate through the darkest times is with the support and love of your friends. 

So here I sit, a fledgling director, my first shot out of the gate watching a dozen supremely talented individuals tell a story that has been near and dear to my heart for years. And my work is done. There’s more than 20 performances left and I’m…done.  (REALLY?!?!?!)  What a strange new world.

I hope you come see Parfumerie. And when you leave the theatre, I hope that you will turn to the ones you love and tell them that you love them.  But more than that, I hope you will SHOW them your love. Because as Miklos Hammerschmidt says:

“It’s time to take notice of the people and friends that are true.

The proven friendships that have shown more in deeds than any words or vows could say.

All I need do is look around me to see a faithful family that has been near and dear to my heart.”

 

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