In memory of Michael Brindisi

Minnesota Star Tribune opinion editor’s note: On Monday, Chanhassen Dinner Theatres held a memorial for Michael Brindisi, the venue’s longtime artistic director and co-owner, who died in February. Graydon Royce, who was a theater critic for the Star Tribune for nearly two decades, gave the following eulogy.

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When I became a critic, it amused me how easily I made friends. Actor, director? Playwright? Hanger-on? Everybody wanted to get on the good side.

Then I retired and had to tell folks, “Sorry, I can’t do anything for you but how ‘bout we get coffee sometime, or play golf … . Hello?”

Except for Michael Brindisi. Not that he played golf — well. But Michael made it unmistakable that our friendship would not end because I had become a mere human.

In fact, in 2018, Michael asked me to join the ensemble of “Holiday Inn.”

He warned me; he wanted me for all five months of the run, eight shows a week. C’mon, how hard can that be?

I’d auditioned at Chan when I was 19 and I’m convinced Gary Gisselman ordered Johnny Command to “go break that kid’s ankles before he gets out of the parking lot.” And now in 2018 Michael was offering me this chance. It was one of the greatest gifts anyone has ever given me.

I am old enough to have many times massaged my understanding of God, the universe, the higher power, the thing we don’t believe exists, the thing we try — and fail — to be.

My relationship with Michael taught me that God is the air that exists between two friends. God is in the eyes and in the laughs, the words that we share. God is within us and we push that spirit out through our actions.

Sometimes it is messy. Many here would roll their eyes at the suggestion Michael was God. Did you see “Xanadu”?

This building was Michael’s church. He preached a gospel of redemption, spiritual edification through a ritual that uses music, the spoken word, dance, spectacle to gather people together in a room and send them out into the world feeling changed and smiling. Michael knew how stories awaken our spirits and teach us things we knew in our hearts, but hadn’t really learned yet.

I loved having lunch over the years talking about the upcoming show. “My Fair Lady?” He’d say, “I think it’s the best show ever.” “Music Man?” “It might be the best musical ever written.” “Jesus Christ Superstar?” “You know, this might be the best show I’ve ever worked on.” “Oklahoma?” “Greatest musical ever.”

And he meant it. He treated the work in front of him with reverence and respect. He felt in his bones the transforming power of each story. He created an experience that stayed in our memories to remind us of that night, the people we were with, who sang, who danced.

St. Augustine wrote that our memories are not just a box of clutter in the attic. Memory is the seat of self-understanding, where our identity is formed and our relationship to God and one another reveals itself. Our actions are in large part a function of our memories.

Over the years, I’ve written and directed many musicals for the youths at our church. I told Michael about them and he insisted that he wanted to come see them. And he did, with his daughter, Cat, and wife, Michelle.

Last year, for “Tween Jesus,” Michael said he and Cat would likely make the Saturday matinee but I didn’t see them beforehand. I was at the piano in the orchestra pit when the first great joke of the show landed and I heard this big clap of laughter. And I smiled. They must have made it. That had to be Cat’s voice. Lutherans don’t laugh like that. I recalled that memory as we opened this year’s show. It made me sad but it brought me joy.

Michael and I last had lunch the day after Christmas. I wanted to thank him for getting my family in on short notice to see “White Christmas.”

He told me how happy he was that Peter Rothstein had hired Cat at Asolo Repertory Theatre in Florida — and saved him about $80,000, which he would have spent to have her study directing in New York — a most-worthy pursuit but … $80,000. Right?

He mentioned the project that he and veteran actor Michael Anthony Brinkley were working on. He talked about the show, and about how “Grease” was coming up and he reminded me again, that was the show that launched him. The best show ever.

He was busy — with lots of gigs all over and I envied him. He was so full of spiritual purpose and energy. I felt God in and around and through us both. This was his life, theater. I told him how happy he looked and I reminded him that he would never retire. He laughed that great laugh and said he would work until the day he died.

And he did.

We all hoped that moment might have come at a more-distant time, but it made some kind of cosmic sense. He had just gotten “Grease” on its feet. The remount of “White Christmas” would follow. Everything was on cruise control. Michael knew dramatic timing. This is a guy who studied Abbott and Costello. We just have to trust his sense of timing on this one.

It’s the only explanation that helps our broken hearts understand how this could have happened now.

I emailed Michael after seeing “White Christmas” to thank him. Nice work as always. The kids dance and sing like crazy. Hegge chews more scenery than anything I’ve seen this side of Kerry Rodau. Hope you’re well. Love to the family. Happy New Year.

I didn’t hear back and I worried that maybe I’d offended him. Maybe he encouraged Hegge. Rodau, I didn’t worry about. She’d take it as a compliment.

Was Michael miffed?

I doubt it. He could take a joke. But I guess I’ll never know.

I just know that I’ll miss him. I will miss that soft, cherubic face. I’ll miss the spirit of God that filled the air when we broke bread together.

Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote his epic poem “Ulysses” shortly after the death of a very dear friend. Feeling the melancholy of age, Tennyson put these words into the mouth of his hero, standing on the plain of Troy, in the aftermath of battle: “I am a part of all that I have met.”

In my life, I have met many people. I have met many experiences, places, moments.

In my life, I have met Michael Brindisi.

Beyond his role as theater critic, Graydon Royce served as a fine arts reporter and editor in various roles for the Star Tribune.