INITIAL STAGES THEATRE COMPANY WAS THE CREATIVE OUTLET AND SAFE HAVEN FOR HUNDREDS OF YOUNG ACTORS, SINGERS AND DANCERS FOR 18 YEARS. ALL UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYE OF HELEN JANKE, WHO TALKED TO KIDS NOW ABOUT THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF THE JOURNEY.
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As the lights dimmed on the final act of Chicago, director Helen Janke looked out into the crowd and recognised some familiar faces.
Helen hadn’t had time to fully appreciate the weight of her decision to close her theatre company, Initial Stages, but she fought off tears as former cast, crew, staff and students rose from their seats in a standing ovation.
More than half the audience were people she had mentored or employed, and they applauded her dedication to the arts and the opportunity she had given them as much as the Chicago performance.
“They all came back to that final show, just to say thank you,” Helen said.
On November 30, 2021, Helen announced the heart-breaking decision to close the curtain on Initial Stages Theatre Company after 18 years of teaching children in the performing arts.
The job was incredibly demanding — mentally, physically and emotionally — and after missing countless important moments in her children’s lives, she just couldn’t do it any more.
“They've been to family functions without me, I haven't seen a basketball grand final because it's rehearsal night,” she said.
“It's a massive commitment. It was a huge sacrifice.”
Helen would spend nearly every waking moment working in the lead-up to a production, leaving her burnt-out in the wake of a show.
“You just have to give so much — production week, you’re there from nine in the morning with the kids, and then you stay until midnight, doing the lighting and getting the sets from Melbourne.
“And you've got to have that energy all the time, and that enthusiasm and that drive.
“I would actually get to a stage where I actually had nothing left to give.
“Many nights I'd come home and just cry and think ‘I just can't do it, I just can't’.”
But even though she would spend nearly every hour working, the company was bleeding her dry financially too.
“Out of the 18 years, we made a profit once from our shows, and it was profit of $500.”
Helen used to anxiously watch the ticket sales ahead of a show, hoping that enough would sell to cover the cost of production.
“We needed every single night to be full, just to cover our costs.
“Our productions cost us $40,000, and $25,000 to $28,000 of that was just to hire the venue.
“Before we even look at costuming and sets, we're up to $28,000. You divide that by $25 ticket, and you need three full houses (to break even).
“If I put on Hairspray, and I got $56,000 at the box office and, and my costs were $48,000 or $50,000, I'm thinking I've maybe made a profit.
“But then 60 per cent of those ticket sales goes back to the licensing, so you get a bill for $4500.
“It's not something I advertised or spoke about because it's part of running a business, but it takes the joy out of it and takes the shine off.
“It's just the price of theatre.”
Helen is now doing drama work with disabled adults, giving them creative opportunities for self expression that they never had before.
But while filling that gap, Helen knows she has left a gaping hole for the kids she used to work with.
She started the business originally to meet the needs for creative kids who didn’t fit in, to give them a space to thrive and find their confidence.
And while she filled that void for 18 years, Helen worries about where those kids will find their place to belong now.
“One mum came up and hugged me and said, ‘thank you so much — he's found his people’.
“And I quoted that in my Chicago script, because it just still brings tears to my eyes.”
People used to come to her theatre company from all over the region — Echuca, Cobram, Yarrawonga, Seymour and Nathalia.
“The hardest part is, where are those kids going to find their people now?
“The ones that just cried and sobbed the day I closed my doors.”
Since her final bow, Helen has been hoping one of her former students would take on the mantle from her, but so far no-one has stepped up to take centre stage.
"I thought maybe someone may have called me and said, ‘hey, I'm interested, can you mentor me?’, And I'd be like, ‘oh my God, yes, of course I can’,“ she said.
“I would have loved someone to have said, you know, to have guided me.
“I did it very badly to start off with. I look back and go, ‘how did I survive?’.
“I'd love to speak to someone from an experience point of view and go ‘hey, this is what I found — this is the best way to go’.”