Last night, I went to see a Broadway play. This is not something I ordinarily do. I’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that I’m just not a big fan of theater acting, but it turns out that’s not it at all.
In a Q&A after the play, WNYC’s Leonard Lopate asked star Alan Rickman (who many of you will remember best for playing film-elevating antagonists in Die Hard and Harry Potter) if there’s a difference between American theater audiences and British ones.
“Well, [American audiences] are richer I assume, because they can afford to come.”
That got a lot of laughs, not least from me. Between the play’s end and the start of the Q&A, Maria had told me our tickets would have cost well over a $100 each had they not been generously provided by WNYC in appreciation for some volunteer work I had done. If we wanted good seats on a weekend and paid for them ourselves, they would have run $200 a piece.
Before I was even faintly aware of the economics of the situation, I had almost decided not to go. I had looked back on my unmistakable history of theater avoidance, and made that faulty assumption that well, maybe, I just don’t like plays.
Ultimately, I changed my mind, and I’m glad of that. Seminar is about struggling authors, and since I’ve somehow conned fate into letting me write for half of my income, I figured it would be a good idea to go. Presumably, a Broadway play about writing would have to have been written by a fairly successful author, and it might just offer some hidden tips. (I mean, c’mon. That’s just math.) Also: Hey. Free play.
Although at least on the night that I saw it, Seminar had a rocky start, it’s a fantastically well-written comedy and Rickman is an endlessly captivating performer.
As a Broadway outsider, I hope that my naivete will allow me to offer you some unique insights into the appeal and the idiosyncrasies of this venerable medium. Here’s what I’ve gleaned so far:
A) Theater-goers really like boobs.
Having now seen not one, but two Broadway plays in my life, I think it’s pretty safe for me to say that all Broadway plays marketed to adults have naked boobs in them. (This theory has been confirmed by someone who has seen three theater productions. So chew on that.)
In this production, the boobs came out fast and furious, making their cameo appearance while I was busy taking off my coat. (I would have politely applauded along with rest of the audience had my arms not been pinned helplessly to the chair behind my back, still trapped in my sleeves.)
I’m not sure if either of the brief scenes of nudity added much to the play, but for many in attendance I’m certain they factored into the internal calculus on whether $115 is a reasonable price for an entry-level seat near the back of the house on a Tuesday evening. (If each scene of nudity was normally priced at $35 a la carte, it would go a long way toward explaining the value of a seats. As a 30-year-old man who has never been to a strip club, I’m unfortunately unable to weigh in on the economics of this.)
B) The pros are the pros for a reason.
Seminar is about the value of experienced advice, even when it’s painful. It’s also about inward and outward soul-seeking, and about opening up to the interactions and collaborations that can improve art. These themes were mirrored, even accidentally, by the production itself.
The play opens on the younger cast members awaiting the arrival of Rickman’s character, an acerbic and apparently legendary writing teacher named Leonard.
In the first words of Seminar, actor Jerry O’Donnell (who many of us will remember best for starring in Stand By Me and the TV show Sliders) showed his discomfort with the stage, hamming up lines that would have been perfectly telling on their own power, and all-in-all making way too big a deal about this whole “acting” thing. His cast-mates’ performances were similarly labored and unnatural at the start, making writer Theresa Rebeck’s words sound self-conscious of their own cleverness.
But something magical happened when Rickman hit the stage. Not only did he bring a mastery and natural grace to his performance, but he helped the younger actors find their level as well. He set the tone for what was too big, and what was just enough; what was wasted energy, and what would pass for effective under-statement on the stage. His very presence brought comfort and confidence to the newer actors and his and his effortless rhythms elevated every one of their movements.
Thanks to a veteran talent raising the standards, what would have been a better-than average amateur production became something like a gratifying work of art.
C) Class matters.
And by this, I mean social class. Under their surface, the characters of Seminar are obsessed with it in a way we haven’t seen the days of Lily Bart. And it’s not just them, it’s all of us. As a society, we Americans are undergoing a soul-searching on the subject of class that’s louder than it has been in recent memory.
This morning, after enjoying Seminar more than expected, and after witnessing the standing ovation of last night’s crowd, I read Ben Brantley’s review for the New York Times
“Seminar” makes astute use of topical and intellectual references, which are usually well known enough to make middlebrow audiences feel highbrow.
Throughout his review it’s hard not to get the impression that Brantley frowns on the play for being little better than a particularly good HBO sitcom.
While it’s true that Seminar is trope-filled and not especially challenging, as a straightforward narrative comedy it’s a satisfying success. It would probably be immensely relatable to anyone who’s ever been locked into the pursuit a creative path.
I’d also argue that from what little I’ve seen, HBO produces some exceptional programs today. Like Brantley however, I might be miffed to spend $500 on a night out to see one of them performed live. But based on the pricing, I’m not so sure I’m in the target demographic for a Broadway play. (Apparently, most of us aren’t.)
As one last point of contention, I’ll admit that I’m endlessly pleased to find “highbrow” and “middlebrow” continuing to become useless descriptive terms (just as they were in Shakespeare’s day), even as our society becomes rigidly stratified on an economic level (again, just as it was for Shakespeare).
Separate from cost and expectations, I’d say that Seminar is an undeniable success at being what it sets out to be. If I had to assign a grade for this amusing, accessible and forceful comedy, it would make an easy A-. And I didn’t even have to like any of the characters very much to feel that way.
(Also: Many thanks to WNYC, New York Public Radio. I like you guys very much.)