The colorful exterior of 3Below, at the corner of Second and San Carlos streets, is a familiar sight. Tucked under the awning, the aroma of popcorn and waffle cones drifts out the doors. At the concession booth, a young, friendly person makes sure you have the information you need.
Inside, an old-fashioned counter boasts a menagerie of gourmet gelato behind the glass. At the old-school diner tables, actors, students, patrons and crew gather to share greetings and passionate discussions about the issues raised by the shows that have been performed, like that day I saw Assassins the same weekend that former President Trump got shot. Or the time I posed with Stormtroopers after watching the Star Wars One Man Show several years back. Or the time way back, when it was still only a movie theater called Camera Three, and my then-boyfriend/now-husband and I saw Ironman together.
But after Nov. 24, that could all be gone, if 3Below Theaters, struggling to regain pre-pandemic attendance, sponsorships and donations, has to close its doors.
Unless we save it.
When a massive software update threatens to wipe out Emojiland and destroy the emojis’ world forever, the emojis band together to face adversaries and save what they love. Sound familiar?
This is no cry-laughing emoji matter. In fact, it warrants a poop-face emoji that a preview article for a clever, funny and culturally relevant musical comedy needs to be delivered along with a plea to save the theater. But here we are. This isn’t a scene from a Muppet movie, and there is no plucky prawn coming in to save the day. Emojiland—a fun, current look at modern life—is the show that will either save 3Below or be the theater company’s last hurrah.
“The stakes are high,” Scott Guggenheim, director of Emojiland and CEO of San José Playhouse/Guggenheim Entertainment confirmed to me via text.
“3Below Theatres is more than just a performance venue,” wrote publicist Jason Rosenberg, “it’s a vital part of San Jose’s cultural and economic fabric. By attending or supporting Emojiland, you’re helping ensure this iconic space continues to be a beacon for arts and education in downtown San Jose.”
Like the venue it inhabits and the company it comprises, Emojiland is more than just a show. Set inside a smartphone, the theme—peak Silicon Valley—explores identity, inclusion and relationships in our isolated, technologically advanced age, through the relatable language of emojis.
As one might imagine: things aren’t always as they seem in Emojiland, such as the character Smize, the smiling face with the smiling eyes (played by Emily Ann Goes). Like many who employ the smile, Smize is actually sad on the inside.
With Smize, explain Keith Harrison Dworkin and Laura Schein, co-creators of Emojiland, “we had found the clearest way to explore the identity crisis” of our current times. We can all relate to putting on a happy face—or, just texting one—when sad on the inside.
Speaking of sad on the inside—how sad would it be to lose another theater in the South Bay? San José Repertory has been closed for a decade now, after a 34-year-run. The Tabard Theatre closed in 2023.
And in what the San Francisco Chronicle calls “the harshest blow yet to Bay Area theater,” the news came this week that after 50 years, their best efforts, and even a $100,000 infusion of cash from Zendaya, an alumna, Cal Shakes (aka California Shakespeare Theater) will be shutting its doors. This is not a one-tear emoji situation. This is the two-gushing-eyes emoji for theater lovers.
It’s not due to bad plays, unprofessional actors, lackluster crews or bad reviews. In fact, quite the opposite. The New York Times called Emojiland “pure fun” when it debuted Off-Broadway.
It’s actually because of you. And me.
It’s because of us.
We aren’t showing up. That’s the truth. “Nobody wants to leave the freaking house,” said a colleague.
And that’s why gorgeous productions in comfortable settings produced with care by community members who love the arts lack attendance, while we sit in convenience and stream things like Love Is Blind.
The problem is quite simple, wrote Guggenheim in an August email to supporters: “We were not able to find the sponsorships we needed. We were not able to reach the minimum membership. We are losing our warehouse/construction space that allows us to create the magic, and we have thus far not been able to secure loans as we do not have guarantors.”
After a vibrant run showing art-house films and professional theater, despite having a glut of 5-star reviews on Yelp, 3Below has halted other programming, Guggenheim wrote.
You don’t need to be a nerd face emoji (a character in Emojiland, played by Tuânminh Albert Đỗ, who is delighted to perform next to his “better half” Emily Ann Goes) to save a theater, the artistic heart and soul of cities.
You just need to show up.
Here’s how:
Buy tickets. Take advantage of group pricing and bring your friends to see the show. Bring your class, children’s theater group, family, book club, PTA board or friend group to see the show. Theater is about friendship, community and teamwork. For this production, a Very Important Emoji ticket provides special seating, a pack of giveaways, an Emoji Cupcake and a photo on stage with the Emojis.
Become a subscriber. They help with funding.
Donate to the company. While filling seats helps create the culture and atmosphere of excitement necessary to keep the momentum going for a family-owned professional theater such as 3Below. (Scott and Shannon Guggenheim are married, while Scott’s brother Stephen also runs the company and embodies multiple roles onstage and off. Shannon is often co-creating musical scores, directing shows, running the company and performing.)
Sponsorship. Get your workplace or choose for your business to sponsor the show. Arrange for your academic institutions to take a field trip there. Take advantage of the individual and group discounts.
Look, I know. We are tired. Work is hard. It is so easy to crawl into bed, light your face up with the blue of screens, and lose hours of time to doomscrolling, escape, and dystopian ennui. It’s enough to turn any of us into a weary-faced emoji.
By the way, Weary-Face is played by James Creer, in his 3Below debut. He describes himself as a “Christmas Diva” and said that he once had dinner with Rosa Parks. He would probably tell you all about it after the show. James also plays the Prince emoji, “an entitled brat who just wants to have fun and throw parties.”
Rounding out the cast of Emojiland is Osher Fine (a triplet who can do the worm) playing the Policewoman and Kissy Face, as well as Aeriol Ascher as both the Princess and the Pile of Poo. Come to think of it, those characters go together well. It turns out that the character Pile of Poo (or the smiling poop emoji) is a self-help guru, while Ascher has been a motivational speaker, women’s empowerment leader and “proud childless cat lady.”
Like Construction Worker emoji in Emojiland (played by BrieAnne Alisa Martin), I know a lot of us are committed to building a better world. (And while we are at it, a better city.) Arts, particularly the performing arts, are the keys to a better city and a better world. But again, there is nothing that will come and hit the villain in the head, causing him to laugh again and decide to give the theater back to the company, like in the film Muppets.
If we don’t show up for our community, then possibly we are the villains here. And if we do, we can become the heroes.
Emojiland: The Musical plays Oct 17–Nov 24 at San Jose Playhouse/3Below Theaters, 288 S 2nd St, San Jose, 408.404.7711 $35+. 3belowtheaters.com
