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A Former Usher’s Tips for Getting Shakespeare in the Park Tickets

Posted in Theatre & Performance, tagged , , , , , , , , on May 17, 2013 | 1 Comment »

Shakespeare in the Park is one of the things I look forward to most about NYC summers. The Public Theater, one of the most reputable companies in NY, offers FREE world class theater every year in Central Park. Yes, I did say FREE. You just have to wait in line for tickets. They are distributed on a first-come-first-serve basis at 1PM for the evening performance.

 

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The infamous line for Shakespeare in the Park tickets

This ticket distribution is notorious. Many New Yorkers who might attend a play otherwise, are deterred by the reputation of the line. Many believe you must camp out in line in order to get tickets, arriving to Central Park at dawn. This myth is based on truth. The Public’s productions often headline stars- most recently Al Pachino in Merchant of Venice and Anne Hathaway in Twelfth Night. With an A-list star and killer reviews, camping out will become the reality. But don’t despair! It is easy to get tickets if you know how to do it. My first job in New York was working as an usher at the Delacorte Theater, the performance space of Shakespeare in the Park. Here are my tips for getting tickets:

  1. See a preview. After a show opens (and usually gets good reviews) it’s on many more to-do lists. If you can go to the show before it gets reviewed (that’s what a “preview” is) you may not have to wait in line at all. Often for the first week-day performances you can literally walk up at 1PM or even 8PM and get tickets. No waiting at all. If you can only go on weekends, previews are your easiest bet.

  2. Go on a weeknight! If your work schedule allows it, see a Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday night show. Weekends are much harder to get tickets for.
  3. Try the virtual line! Now in it’s 3rd year (I believe) there is now have a virtual line! The solution for 9-5ers and any one who can’t be in Central Park at 1PM on a weekday. To enter this way, visit the website in the morning, sign up, enter for that day’s show, cross your fingers, and the check back after 1PM. Get your friends to enter for you. I’ve had good luck with this!
  4. Don’t be afraid of the stand-by line! Another great way to score tickets if the 1PM time is impossible for you is the stand-by line. Pack a picnic, bring a thermos of your after-work beverage of choice, and multi-task. You’re enjoying a fabulous picnic in the park AND waiting for tickets at the same time! Unless the show is Al-Pachino-popular, you should be fine getting in this line after work- around 5:30/6.
  5. Questionable weather can be your ticket in. They do everything possible to avoid a rained out show. There may be a rain shower moments before the show, but unless there is thunder and lightning, the show is likely to still go on. If it’s a popular show, this can really help you out because loads of people with tickets will not show up. Even if you show up at 8PM, it’s likely you’ll get in! Just bring a poncho because they don’t allow umbrellas up in the theater. I once had to tell Mary Louise Parker to put her’s down!
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Last summer I was out of town during previews of “Into the Woods” featuring a-lister Amy Adams. Unable to follow most of my rules (although I did go on a weekday!) Charlotte and I showed up at 5AM to wait for tickets! With a friend and a thermos of coffee, the line can actually be fun.

2013 features two comedies. The Comedy of Errors runs May 28- June 30. I’m seeing the May 29th preview and I can’t wait!  Director Daniel Sullivan has delivered the Public’s most recent knock-out performances including the aforementioned Twelfth Night and Merchant of Venice.  I have no doubt it’s going to be a great show. Both Sullivan and The Public are known for making Shakespeare accessible and with a run-time of only 90 mins, there is all the more reason everyone should see this show.

Love’s Labour’s Lost: A New Musical is the second show of the season running July 23-August 18. A new musical adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s first plays, my expectations are high for this production as well. I don’t know exactly what to expect, but coming from the creators of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson I have no doubt it’ll be awesome. Again with a run-time of 90 mins, I’m calling this now as one of the must-see shows of the summer. Heed my advice and see it during previews!

So mark your calendars now, previews start in 10 days! Remember you can bring refreshments into the Delacorte seats- even alcohol as long as it’s not in a glass bottle. Get ready for a summer of fantastic FREE theater! If you don’t live in NYC, plan a visit! Okay, of course that’s not always possible. Please look into what summer theatre your town has to offer- I’m willing to bet you’ll find something.

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• A NYC Summer Favorite: Shakespeare in the Park

Posted in I <3 NY, tagged , , , , , on June 25, 2012 | 4 Comments »

I have seen five staged productions of Romeo and Juliet. Two were atrocious, one paralleled a real life love story (its lead actors where married 18 months later), one was passable, and the fifth was the best play I have ever seen. It is one of the few plays where I have immediately leaped out of my seat at the finale in an unquestioned standing ovation. Romeo and Juliet, summer 2007 at The Public’s Shakespeare in the Park starring Lauren Ambrose and Oscar Isaac. I will never forget that production, how I laughed, cried, and fell in love with Shakespeare in the Park.

An image from “A Winter’s Tale” from The Public Theater’s website- click for link!

I fell so hard I vowed to work there, and next summer, I did just that. It was my very first job in New York City. Not in the capacity a new reader might expect, but those of you who have been with me since the beginning, remember my stories of working as an usher: of being mistaken for Lauren Ambrose, for working security and leading James Franco to his seat, for the night when Bill and Hillary Clinton sat in my section and shook my hand and thanked me at the performances end. Shakespeare in the Park holds hundreds of memories and claims a special place in my heart.

Working there was an incredible experience and so is attending a single performance. It is now something I look forward to every summer. You can bring food into the theater, something which drove me crazy as a worker with tempting gourmet picnics surrounding me. Now I generally bring a thermos of white wine, maybe a pizza or sandwich, and a carton of strawberries. It’s fabulous.

Before 2007, I had been to Shakespeare in the Park productions in San Francisco and in Boston. Always enjoyable, but the audience was a first-come-first-serve, stake-your-picnic-blanket-on-the-grass sort of affair. The Public has a full on outdoor theater, assigned seating, and requires tickets. Tickets are free, distributed from the box office at 1PM.

The Delacorte Theater, where Shakespeare in the Park is performed, as seen from Belvadere Castle

This years production of As You Like It opened last Thursday to rave reviews. I saw it on its second preview, on a Wednesday evening. Arriving at 6PM, my friend Jake got tickets just by walking up to the box office. Rain was forecasted for the day, but had failed to fall by 7PM. After getting tickets, we wandered to a bodega and got a 40 of Coors Light. Not as classy as my usually wine, but the as show turned out to be set in an early 1900′s in the South, beer was apropos. The house opened at 7:30PM and we found our seats far stage left in the second to last row. Still, no seat in that theater is a terrible view- especially for the price of FREE.

After moments in our seats, rain began to fall. We huddled under the picnic blanket, hoping the fabric that shielded against wet grass would be durable enough for rain. Sun teased out from distant clouds, teasing us. Then, a rainbow appeared, crossing the sky across the stage- breath-taking. Jake snagged a picture while I suppressed the usher in me- photography is strictly forbidden anywhere in the theater.

It’s hard to capture the magic of a rainbow on film, but I’m glad Jake tried!

Shortly after 8PM the rain stopped and we were treated to an enjoyable performance (of one of Shakespeare’s more flawed plays). Music played a considerable role, as it often does in director Daniel Sullivan’s productions. Blue grassy tunes, plenty of fiddle, composed by Steve Martin (yes, that Steve Martin- he’s a fucking awesome renaissance man!). At intermission, we ran down to two empty seats that I had spotted in the front row. A completely different, and welcome perspective from our former high perch.

At the play’s end, I did not jump to my feet as I had 5 years before. I did smile and clap, it had been a fantastic evening. Check out the New York Times if you want a review! The show closes on June 30th- so soon! See it this week! The second show of the season begins previews July 23rd. It is Into the Woods (a musical!) starring Amy Adams and Donna Murphy and already touted as a must-see show of the summer. I can’t wait! It won’t be easy to get tickets for that one, but remember my tips, aim for early in previews! Maybe I’ll see you there!

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• Magic in the Sky and on Stage

Posted in Theatre & Performance, tagged , , , , , , on February 13, 2012 | 4 Comments »

There is something about the moon in the sky, shining between the silhouetted skyscrapers that gets me. Every time. Like with the Chrysler Building, when I look up and see the white glowing light, I am mesmerized by its beauty. It’s my shining beckon of hope in a sea of  bad dates, auditions that go no where, gray skies, and cold sidewalks. The moon, high above me in the sky, keeps me grounded, reminds me there is more in this world than the self-made worries in my head and the man-made concrete of my surroundings.

Too bad it’s difficult to capture on film, especially with 12 Megapixels, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.

This was my walk home the other night. The moon was my escort and accompanied me to my door. I needed companionship and strangely, the glow of a celestial orb 240,000 miles away was preferable to punching in numbers on my phone and getting a friend’s voice mail.

Last night I saw “How I Learned to Drive” at Second Stage Theatre. It’s a play I read nearly three years ago when I was commuting 2+ hours and thus reading a play a day. That summer I attempted to read all Pulitzer Prize winning plays. “How I Learned to Drive” received the honor in 1998, especially remarkable as one of the few winning plays written by a woman (yeah Paula Vogel!)  When I saw the play in Second Stage’s 2011-2012 Season, I knew I wanted to see it. I remembered the plot, more or less.  I remembered it being extremely captivating and well crafted. I remembered the two main characters and their monstrously complex relationship. I certainly remembered the theme: plays involving pedophilia are hard to forget.

On paper (on screen?), it appears I remembered a lot. In my mind I thought I remembered a lot. In reality, sitting by myself is the darkened theater and watching the actors on stage, I was surprised by how much I’d forgotten. I forgot the structure of the play, a series of childhood memories. I forgot the jarring, uncomfortable finale that had the woman seated next gasping and clutching her blouse. Only after watching it did I remember visceral feeling I’d felt from simply reading the play. Needless to say, that same feeling was exponentially magnified after seeing the play.

I left the theater in a daze. My throat was closed up, my stomach in knots, I felt emotionally spent. This is why I love theater. It is the rare performance that has a full-body affect on me, lingering sometimes for hours. When that happens it is utter magic.  Now there are different kinds of magic, as any reader of Harry Potter (or any fantasy book really) knows. When the curtain closes and your mind feels like it’s been rung out like a wet towel, it is decidedly of theVoldermort/black magic variety.

Norbert Leo Butz and Elizabeth Reaser give wonderfully believable and nuanced performances. Kate Whoriskey directs this stylized Off-Broadway play with the perfect balance of nostalgia and brash realism. It is the strength of production that left my out on the street feeling as though I was the witness of a traumatic event. I would highly recommend this play (so does the Times review) but with a disclaimer: DO NOT SEE IT ALONE. It is an unlikely mistake, as few people go to the theater alone. However I am one of those few people; I usually like seeing plays and movies by myself. But “How I Learned to Drive” is a play you will need and want to talk about at its conclusion. I lagged behind, eavesdropping on the fellow audience members conversations, hoping for closure. It wasn’t enough. Writing this post about does the trick, but if you see this play send me a message or comment.

I walked home in my theater-agitated state, taking solace in the moon. White magic, ”Order of the Phoenix” magic. The man in the moon, like most men in my life, comes and goes. He disappears for days at a time but he’s never gone for long. You can always count on the moon.

It’s Fashion Week in my neighborhood. That circus is back in town, along with the thrill of knowing a concentration of crazy famous people is just two blocks away. The constant buzz of excitement, and literal buzz from the generators heard all along Amsterdam. I captured this picture of the moon over the tents and the back, less glamorous side, of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week. As I pressed the button to capture the image, I heard someone shout my name. It was my roommate. Together the three of us- me, Miranda, and the moon- walked the final two blocks home.

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How about you? Have you ever seen a play or movie that completely affected you mental state? Any mutual moon-lovers out there?

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• Showmance Sh-no-wmance

Posted in Outside NYC, Theatre & Performance, tagged , , , , , on September 22, 2010 | Leave a Comment »

I am not exactly the young engenue,  leading lady type. I am more the quirky⁄weird⁄flat-out crazy type. Those are the roles I find most fun, no question. But, probably because I am not fat (which I am convinced is the only reason I was not cast as the nurse in my college production of Romeo and Juliet-three years later, still not over it), I occasionally do get cast as the Romantic Lead.

My very first semester of college I was cast as Catherine, the love interest, in Pippin. I was super excited, my first semester of college, my first lead in a musical. In my high school freshmen never got big parts, so to me this was a Big Deal. The (cute) guy that was supposed to play Pippin dropped out (hello college theatre) and it took the director (“director” I should say, he was the poorest excuse for a director I’ve ever worked with) a while to find a replacement. I waited in anticipation. Would this new guy be my love interest on and off stage? That’s the sort of thing that happens in college, right? As this was musical theatre, I figured if not a boyfriend, at the least I would get a gay boyfriend. I was in need of both after all. I vividly remember Pippin walking in the door. Slightly overweight, bad skin, and poorly dressed. Not My Type. Not Gay. Fuck. Ten minutes after introducing myself to him I added “boring” to the list. The next day after rehearsal, I added “mediocre singer, abysmal actor, AND he smells funny” to the list. (Knowing my luck, he probably reads my blog…)

Hey, I was a bitchy, judgemental, disappointed, sullenly single, freshman (I’ve grown up since, I swear). Could I make it more clear he was not a love interest off stage? And yet, every one thought otherwise. Rumors flew around the cast I had a huge crush on him, friends came to see the show and raised eyebrows. You act like you’re in love with someone on stage, people watching that don’t understand it’s acting. Freshman year I was upset, offended- “You think I like him!? GROSS.” By the end of the run of Pippin, I learned to take it in stride. Now it’s as a huge complement if I’m accused of being interested in my onstage love interest, if his girlfriend gives me a mega Stink Eye after seeing the show. Clearly I’m producing a convincing, believable performance. What more could I want?

So did I have a crush on the guy who played Sir Francis Drake this summer? No I did not. But thanks for asking.

I still haven’t gotten to melons…more on melons to come.

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• The Time I Almost Died and Subsequent Deja Vu

Posted in Blast from the Past, Hard Times, tagged , , , , , , , , on October 12, 2009 | 4 Comments »

One of my favorite stories to tell is that of “The Time I Almost Died”. As the title suggests, it’s full of drama, high stakes, death-defying stunts, gory bodily fluids, plot twists, and even has a crowd pleaser of a happy ending.

The story begins at the beginning of senior year with the decision to direct a play as my thesis for my Theater Arts degree. I was determined to do a full scale production of  Edward Albee’s The Goat, or Who is Sylvia (my favorite play, my favorite playwright). Though not exactly appropriate for my college-aged actors it is extremely appropriate for my target audience of liberal art college students. I decide they need to see this play and I can make that happen.

I cast the play in May, thought about it all summer, and was all ready to go before classes even began. I had just over a month to produce and direct my little master piece before department productions took over. I worked my ass off, attending classes, being president of the drama club, holding daily rehearsals, filling out campus paper work, and generally trying to do  everything by myself. This was my baby, no one else was gonna touch her.

Two weeks in I was exhausted. Three weeks in my throat started to hurt. Strep throat kind of hurt. My days turned into nothing but going to health services during the day and rehearsal at night. I was negative for strep, a positive thing I thought. Wrong. The sore throat got worse and worse, the swelling so bad that every swallow was accompanied with a wince and my voice sounded strangled, entirely unrecognizable from my normal speech.

Health services put me on steroids to control the swelling and told me I probably had mono but the test for mono is only effective after a certain period of infection. I cursed my horrid luck, blamed a professor who had said “Macbeth” multiple times in the theater where my play was being produced, and continued going to rehearsal everyday whispering directions to my actors, thinking of nothing else but producing the best damn production no matter what my state. I felt so awful one day I had to missed the last rehearsal before tech and cried from frustration. I was fully present for tech and dress and proud as hell, the set looked great, my actors were awesome, publicity was out, I was still alive, and we were totally ready for opening night on Friday.

Friday morning I make my way over to health services, a daily activity at this point, the excitement of opening night eclipsing the excruciating pain I am feeling. And at health services my worst fears come true: the swelling of my throat has gotten so extreme that the doctor is afraid it will obstruct my ability to breathe. And demands I go to the ER. I try to talk her out of it “Can’t you just get me more steroids? I can breathe, it’s not that bad! I’ve lasted this long!” but the protests of someone who can barely whisper are easy to ignore. The next thing I know I’m stuck in the ER, trying to choke down Gatorade, waiting hours and hours to see a doctor. By late afternoon I’ve finally been seen, they’re repeating all sorts of tests (“Um, I was already tested for strep, ok? Can you just tell me I have mono so I can go attend to the opening my play, please?”), and not telling me shit.

My doctor is kind of an asshole with a shitty, mean, sense of humor. He makes fun of my voice. That doesn’t make me feel better buddy, shut the fuck up and fix it or let me GO TAKE CARE OF MY BABY! At 6pm, though I’m still convinced I will make the 8pm curtain, my friends (who have been amazing, holding my hand through all the awfulness of the ER) start giving each other looks of “oh man, she’s not going to take it well when she emerges from denial….”

This provides the perfect cue for Dr. Asshole to come in and finally tell me what’s wrong with me: “You have a peritonsilar abscess. Huge pockets of puss in the back of your throat. We’ve called in an ENT (EarNoseThroat)  specialist who is on his way. He’ll stick a huge needle into the back of your throat to drain the puss.” What? Um, what? I think I misunderstood you, you said You have mono, here’s a pill, you can go to your play now, right? Dr. Asshole laughs and says, “I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere tonight. After the procedure you’re looking at a night or two in the hospital. You’re severely dehydrated, we need to set up an IV and monitor your progress.”

After many tears- a truly pathetic sight when the crier can barely breathe- I’m out of denial. I’m missing opening night, at the very least, and the whole opening weekend at the very worst. Thank GOD I planned a two weekend run.

In the end 10 mL of puss was drained from my throat (it was impressive/disgusting to look at) they told me that if I hadn’t come in when I did, chances are I would have died, my case was so advanced. I spent the next two nights (read: entire weekend) in the hospital. My assistant director took over my play, thank God, and from everything I heard-  including that the president of the college (who had never come to a student production in all my time at school) was in the audience and seemed to enjoy himself- my baby was very well received. Understandably this takeover caused a lot of  stress for my AD, unfortunately she didn’t handle it well and had a bad attitude toward me for the rest of production, really the rest of the time we were at school together. So uncool.

Now for a happy ending: The next weekend I was able to attend every performance, was on the way to full recovery, and received an insane number of flowers and complements on how good the show was. I sat in the audience and watched people in front of me, who I didn’t know at all, gasp and exclaim “Oh my God!” so affected were they by my play. Truly an awesome feeling. I got incredibly positive feedback from professors and months later heard freshmen talk about my play and how it got them interested in the theatre program. Another truly awesome feeling. My throat recovered 100% and a month or so later I was able to look back or the experience as something horrible that had happened in the past but a freak disease (my doctors told me it was rare) I would never experience again. And it made a good story.

Any time my throat has felt sore since a small part of me is terrified I have a peritonsillar abscess. Which I always deemed a rather paranoid fear. A few weeks ago my throat started to hurt severely and I cursed my roommate who works at a preschool thinking she had brought home strep throat. I went to the doctor. He didn’t even do a test said, “Yep, probably strep,” and gave me a prescription. I took my meds and my throat only got worse.

Realization that this was an eerie, horrid deja vu descended. I went back to the clinic three days later and tested negative for strep. Uncontrollable tears streamed down my face as a physician told me that from what they could tell I had an abscess and sent me to the ENT Infirmary. They confirmed the abscess, drained it (think: hacking up blood and puss, think: gross), and sent me home. Fortunately I avoided an overnight. I couldn’t talk at all for almost a week. I haven’t been to work in over two weeks. Yesterday was the first time in 15 days that my throat didn’t hurt every time I swallowed. It’s been a long, slow, awful recovery.

NYC is an awful place to be sick. At first, no one believes you. You tell them you’re sick and they think you’re doing something awesomely fun- playing hookie to escape to the beach. Fortunately my voice was as extremely effected as my first experience, so anyone I called would know I was not lying. Which inspired many of my friends to visit me with soup and to keep me company in spite of my mute-itude. Which was all very nice for a week. I have learned that after a week, it becomes extremely socially unacceptable to still be sick. To not be able to answer “How are you feeling?” with “Better!” is such a social faux pas. But to do so would have been a huge lie until the very tail end of the 2 weeks, depression started to engulf me well before then. Fortunately, it didn’t have time to settle. Now I can correctly answer the question. I am feeling so much better. I CAN TALK. I’m going to go to work tomorrow. I should be going out and functioning as normal by this weekend. I can start actually living life again.

When I got sick it was summer. Now it’s fall. That’s time I’ll never get back. When you don’t have your health, you realize how nothing else really matters. Now that I have it back (mostly) I am going to cherish it. Make taking care of myself a number one priority. It’s a good time for fresh starts. Do things that are fulfilling. Things I’ve neglected that I truly enjoy. Like writing here. Creating art in all the ways I love to. And making some money. Right now, if I’m healthy I feel like I can do anything. That’s a good place to be.

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• Political Theater (sans Brecht)

Posted in Theatre & Performance, Winter/Spring/Summer/Fall, tagged , , , , , , on September 13, 2008 | 5 Comments »

Fall 2008. Election season. It’s all everyone and their blogroll is blogging about these days. Palin, McCain, Bidin, Obama, yada yada. I’ve clicked a couple job postings on craigslist with titles along the lines of ”Bloggers wanted!”, thinking how incredible it would be if I could profit off writing I’d do anyway, but are they interested in theater and New York escapades? Nope. They all mention special interest in political posts. Well, that’s just not my scene. I’m not apathetic, I’m passionate about certain issues, I will most definitely vote in November, you can probably guess who I’ll vote for. But it’s not particularly interesting to me and I have absolutely no desire to delve into the mess of this campaign in my little corner of cyber space. Pass on politics.

Well, that was my original plan until last night when theater and politics collided in a particularly unforseen way.

We were warned at the start of our shift, long before the house opened. Greg, who shares charge of the same section as me, and I had a brief discussion and agreed they would be sitting in our section. Seriously (as previously discussed), anyone who’s anyone sits in our section. Sure enough, mere moments after this chat our supervisor approaches us, They’re sitting in your section. You don’t need to do anything really, the secret service are five billion times more scary/capable/better paid then you know what to expect. Can you handle it? I’ll move you if you think it’ll be to much. And miss out on being in the center of the action? Are you crazy? We will handle it!

Over the next half hour the theater fills up as usual. Lots of “up the stairs, 3rd row to your right” and “it ends around 10:40″ nothing exciting. Then at about 7:55pm I see a procession arriving from the stage door entrance and before I even look over, the theater erupts into applause. Flanked by huge men in suits and intimidating earpieces Hillary, Bill, and Chelsea -the entire Clinton family minus Socks- enter the theater and head straight toward my section.

This super high profile political family having a night on the town, going to see a rock musical in Central Park. Wow, who would’ve thought? It was amazing to watch how their presence effected the entire show. The audience had a level of energy and excitement that you usually only see at sporting events, events where the outcome of the night is not predetermined. This energy and excitement was also noticeable in the cast. By their seventh week of the run where I had seen every show, I definitely noticed the novelty wearing off, the tediousness of performing the same thing every night setting in, moments of phoning it in- all extremely subtle and surely only something a fellow actor would notice. Well, with the Clintons in the house the cast performed better, fresher, with more energy then ever and it was truly awesome to watch. There is a moment in the show where one character goes into the audience to point out his mother, “Oh my God, my mom is here tonight! wave to the people, Mom. I love you.” Every night a different woman is chosen- sometimes she looks like she could be his mom, sometimes she’s a hot chick, sometimes she’s not even a woman. That night he got Hillary to stand up in the role of His Mom and it was hilarious.

My section at intermission was a mad scene. Everyone in the theater wanted to say Hi and shake the hands of the former president and senator. Greg and I went crazy and I thoroughly lost my voice yelling at people “Ladies and gentlemen this is a fire hazard! You need to clear a path! CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!” I certainly earned my minimum wage for that hour. I was expecting an even worse situation after the show, but the secret service suits blocked off the area right before curtain call so all I had to do was my usual “make sure no one takes pictures” duty. This puts me facing the audience as they watch the bows. Which had me 2 feet away from Hillary, Bill,and Chelsea. I did a pretty awful job looking for cameras that night, I hope people appreciate the illegal pictures they were able to snap because I couldn’t resist watching the Clintons as they applauded.

I watched in hopes of answering my burning question: how did they like the show? Their response was positive, they stood up with the rest of the crowd, clapping along, they didn’t leave at the earliest possible moment- but as I stood searching for an answer I was hit by I scary realization.

There was no way in hell I’d ever know.

That’s not the scary part, that is the duh part. The scary part to me was realizing that no matter what they actually thought of the show, the only way they could ever respond to the show was the “appropriate way”, the way they were “supposed to”, the way the public would want them to or think that they should. As I stood there sneaking looks, realizing this, I was overcome with sadness. The actors on stage were all done with their performances for the night, but here Bill, Hillary, and Chelsea were continuing theirs. Their act is one that carries through any public appearance of any kind. I imagined how awful it must be to not be able to be yourself for fear that people won’t like you and thus not vote for you. How awful to try to get everyone to like you. To kiss the babies, shake the hands, smile even if you feel like shit. I watched Hillary’s plastered on cheerful face as she applauded and realized how much politicians have in common with actors. We say the world is our stage, but that is bullshit when you think how literally true it is for politicians. Humbling.

As they left the theater I gave them a wave good-bye, they’ve done so many good things on a world scale and on top of that they support theater=major respect from yours truly, which they saw and then, with a look of sincere thanks in their eyes, both Bill and Hillary sought out my hand to shake as they departed. Wow. Quite a night.

I have a whole new understanding of politics from this and while in awe it also makes me strangely sad.

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• Mr. Groff, My New Best Friend

Posted in Theatre & Performance, tagged , , , , , , on September 5, 2008 | 4 Comments »

The show I usher for was originally set to close mid-August but it has already been extended twice. Which works out well for me and the hazard of unemployment. It also means that the lead (now that I no longer work there I can tell you I’m talking about Jonathan Groff**) had to leave the show to go film an Ang Lee movie and his replacement isn’t quite as charming.

He had the day off from filming yesterday. How do I know this, you ask? Because he came to see the show and of course he sat in my section, because awesome/famous people always sit in my section (I really lucked out with that assignment at the beginning of the summer). I didn’t notice him until intermission when I saw him sitting all by himself and realized he had been the annoying guy sitting next to the show’s costume designer whispering and laughing uproariously at everything the whole first act. Wow, good thing I hadn’t shot him a nasty “shut up!” look!

Well there he was, in all his adorable splendor, sitting alone as the costume designer had left to attend to things. Eee I want to go up there and tell him I think he’s awesome, but that’s not really appropriate. I’m supposed to stay here and man my spot. Damn. Ok, I will will him to leave the theater so he’ll pass by me and hopefully I’ll have the balls to say something. Willllllllllll. It works. He gets up and I’m searching my brain for something I can say that isn’t obnoxious or groupie-esque but he’s not heading for the exit. No, no. He is heading straight towards me.

“Hi! How are you? It’s so good to see you,” he says and then gives me a hug. Like we bonded during the show. Like we’re old friends. Like he’s at least talked to me once before in our lives. Planning my line? Fuck that! Not even my imagination considered this.

From where I stood there were two choices: play along or let the truth- that I’ve never talked to him before ever and think he’s very talented, not to mention the fact he’s already achieved most of my life goals- take over. No contest. For the entirety of intermission me and this Tony-nominated, the next hot thing, golden boy of Broadway are bffs. We talk about the show, how it’s been since he left, how filming’s been, laugh when some guy comes over to talk to him and ends his “I saw you in this show, you were so great” spiel with: My friend sitting up over there. It’s her birthday. She wants your dong. The guy quickly leaves and my new bff laughs and confides in me, “That’s one I’ve never heard before- ‘She wants your dong.’ And did you see how fast he went back to his seat? I bet that was a dare.” Oh commiseration, that makes me feel even more like we’re bffs.

Before I know it, intermission is over. The light’s are dimming and so is our friendship.

It was so great to see you! Good luck with the film! Enjoy the second act!

Thanks, you too. I’ll see you later. He says and gives me another hug before returning to his seat.

I can’t stop smiling.

It’s a good thing I’m 97% sure he’s gay (You can pretty much tell on stage.  It’s a vibe, a chemistry. When you have gay leading men in classic musicals this can limit the credibility of character portrayal. Like when I saw Wicked the Fiaro was so obviously gay it was distracting. But in this show it made his character much stronger. Which I didn’t appreciate fully until he left. Sigh. If he is not gay, he is a truly brilliant actor for creating that. His replacement doesn’t have the same vibe and it makes the whole show a little weaker, in my opinion.) (He actually came out a year after I wrote this.**) Other wise I would be head over heals in love. Such a sweet, modest, respectful, awesome person. It’s moments like these when I feel like the minimum wage I get paid is totally enough. Who am I kidding, I would do it for free.

**edits from 2/13/2011

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