(How is it that I can get up and go and arrive early, even, to stand in line for something that is determined only by showing up instead of the time you get there? I am consistently punctual for rehearsals, performances, and any other theatre-related events, but I can hardly drag myself out to class, let alone arrive early. So weird.)
So I waited in line with 200 or so of my new closest friends (I would guess it was probably the biggest 'day of' turnout they've had, as even the staff was commenting on the numbers) and I started chatting with the girl in line in front of me, as you do. She's an actress from Scotland, living and working in London, having attended the same drama school as David Tennant. (Aside: a Scottish Benedick = major *swoooon*!) She wasn't there to see him though - she's friends with the actress playing Hero and couldn't afford the ticket price for the regular seats (roughly $90). The day seats are only £10 ($16), but you have to get the lucky draw. We talked about what we were studying/working on, she told me about the trials of trying break into the theatre world, I explained to her a little about what dramaturgs do, and we talked about how people just don't go to the theatre anymore - ironic, if you consider we were standing with an early-morning mob to get theatre tickets, less ironic if you follow her same point that the show would never have been so successful if it hadn't starred two already big-deal 'names'.
And I came back to that question - why go to the theatre? You can watch movies on your iPhone, computer, and big-screen TV at home: why, in this lazy, electronics-driven, isolated world do we go to a theatre? (Unfair characterization? Maybe.) The answer was right there in line.
A member of the box-office staff came out to start the drawings - she chatted up the crowd, told a few jokes, and in a way validated us for coming to try for something there was no way we'd all accomplish. I had opted to try for the matinee show, thinking my chances would be better. As she drew and called numbers for the matinee, the first 'winner' yelped with glee, setting a precedent encouraged by the moderator. She got us laughing and cheering for our own, and eventually others', success. By the end of the matinee drawing we were all happier for the lucky few than upset about our own loss - and the evening show crowd got even bigger responses as their numbers started being drawn.
I didn't get a ticket, but my new friend - all nerves and certainty she wouldn't be able to see the show - was the first number picked for the evening performance, and I cheered right along with her when her number was drawn. THAT'S why we go to the theatre - it's to have a communal experience; shared joy, excitement, terror, laughter. It's a truism in the theatre that the best audiences make for the best performances, and the best performances delight and lift the audiences, and this phenomenon is something you'll see only in shadow anywhere else. There is an energy in a live performance that feeds the audience which is magnified and returned to the actors and so on, and you just can't get that from a movie - no matter how engaged the audience is. (The initial midnight showing of a Harry Potter movie is next on the list of audience experience events, but still only a distant second.)
We need to engage with other people, and the theatre is one way to do it. Sometimes you talk with your neighbor, sometimes you don't - I know when I laugh out loud in a live performance that the actors hear me responding and are buoyed up, and that other audience members will laugh next time because they can. My presence and involvement gives them permission to engage, and theirs does the same for me. We come together with other people in order to engage, even when we're alone, and the theatre is the place.
I hugged my new friend when she came back out of the theatre with her ticket, and she, a virtual stranger, didn't mind at all. She'll have a wonderful time at the show tonight - I can tell you right now that the audience is going to be incredible.
