I am frugal about some things. One of the pleasures of swimming at Barton Springs in the early morning is that both admission and parking are free—it’s a minor pleasure that appeals to the Scrooge McDuck in me. I don’t carry expensive purses (indeed, I am confused by the thought); I don’t spend a lot of money on clothing; precious gems and gold bore me. I do not partake in luxury brands.
But about travel and theater I’m a spendthrift, at least relatively speaking. Here in London, my younger child and I are gorging on theater. We had already seen a terrific touring production of A Chorus Line in Leicester; we’ve seen The Play That Goes Wrong, The Constituent, Mnemonic, Cabaret, and Hello, Dolly in London. For the last two, we indulged in my favorite frugal theatrical luxury: the box. I love a box. Because of weird sightlines, they’re generally classified as obstructed views, and are cheaper than good seats on the floor (stalls, if you’re in the UK; orchestra, in the US). But you’re high up, removed from humanity and their tendency to breathe in irritating ways, or worse: at The Play That Goes Wrong, we sat next to three of our countrymen who loved the play but chatted about it as though they were in their own living room. “Oh my God,” one guy kept saying, “this is amazing.” He guessed one twist out loud; then, moments later, “I guessed right.”
Last summer I booked a box to see The Crown Jewels, a not very good play starring some famous British comedians, including Al Murray, Neil Morrissey, Mel Giedroyc, and Joe Thomas. It got one star from the Guardian. Before the performance, I got a call from the theater saying that they were moving our three tickets from the upper box to the lower box, the only drawback being that there were only two seats in the lower, and one of us would have to sit nearby. My older kid elected to do so, and was triumphant when, halfway through the first act, my younger kid and I were hit with a spotlight and subjected to some audience participation with Al Murray, which I would have thought I’d hate but which was fun. We were recognized in the ladies’ room at intermission.
In a box seat you can indulge in behavior that would be shushing offenses in the cheek-by-jowl seating. Fidgeting, exchanging looks with your companion, eating (as I did Sunday) half a Pret A Manger club sandwich out of my pocketbook: all fine. (I thought that the sandwich wouldn’t pass the bag inspection, but the security guard merely asked me what kind it was.) Boxes might not have the best view of the stage, but they afford the best views of the theater itself: into the wings and the orchestra pit, of the video monitors that show the company the conductor, and of the audience itself, which is my favorite.
The Palladium, where we saw Hello, Dolly! is an enormous theater, and it was a thrill to look from the actors, to my left, to more than 2,000 of my fellow theatergoers. From this distance, I loved them.
We had to be taken to our private box by an usher, through a series of doors nobody else came through. We paid £65 a piece, more than £100 cheaper each than the most expensive seats below. There were parts of the production that we couldn’t see well, but the pleasures of our seats outweighed the drawbacks.
Imelda Staunton played the eponymous role, and it is one of the best performances I have ever seen in my life. She was astonishing, so lovable and human—and such a beautiful singer—that I had literal tears in my eyes, and I’m not a soft touch. I would feel this way even if she weren’t very short, by which I mean my own height. I didn’t really know the show, but I never need see another production: everyone was terrific.
At the curtain call, after the standing ovation, she sang again, “Wow wow wow, fellas/Look at the old girl now, fellas,” and she’s such an extraordinary actor that you seamlessly understood that this time she was referring to herself, Imelda Staunton, killing it as Dolly Levi.
One loves a theater report! Especially such a beautifully told theater report that makes me happily envious!
You made my day with this funny and interesting theater report. I will consider a box from now on if I ever go to a play.