Back in August, when the next block of Potter tickets were released and sold in hours, I reminded younger readers on theatreboard.co.uk of the mid 1980s and early 1990s where we would wait a year or more to see “The Phantom of the Opera,” “Les Misérables” and “Cats.” Technology meant the tickets sold a little slower – you could only book by post, phone or in person back then – but the result was the same. As I was typing that reply, however, the thought suddenly struck me, “how did we know they were worth waiting for, and does the internet now play a part in keeping even mediocre shows busy now?”
Back then, a far greater audience read the same few newspapers and heard the same messages on TV and radio, concentrated into a very few stations. With less choice, I guess the hype could build and, rather like Patrick “American Psycho” Bateman, kudos was gained by being first in your social group to have tickets.
Now, the “official voices” are diluted by fan sites, many obsessive. I remember in the early 2000s being highly amused by one such “Les Misérables” site on which a teen girl, not even born when the original opened, painstakingly spelled out every abbreviation for characters that we needed to know, apparently, to be a fan.
It’s also obvious on discussion website theatreboard.co.uk that “Wicked” is by far the most discussed show – and the one I get most day seat reports from too.
These shows have a massive marketing spend, of course, but the fact new generations are finding new ways to spread the word has to play a part in keeping them open, doesn’t it. These fans generate repeat visits, sometimes obsessively, which fills seats even outside the main tourist season, and even hands the baton to yet another generation too.
My question, though, is if this obsession crowds out other shows? Far harder to find “fan sites” about “The Go-Between,” for example. Mr Crawford, of course, but not the show. Likewise “Bend It Like Beckham” in its day and others. I’m not saying that either would have run longer, necessarily, or had much of a future life after closure, but it is weird that few new shows seem to attract the same “critical mass” online as those of my own teenage times.
Are there ways of seeding the web that have not been explored – I don’t mean handing tickets to illiterate bloggers, nor fake or illegal websites being set up posing as fans. I’m talking about sustained campaigns to build awareness, and really involve the obsessive generation in a show. Maybe allow off-shoots from the official show website, letting fans post pages and share comments? Marketing campaigns where they will see them on the latest social media rather than common Facebook, Twitter and Snapchat?
I don’t know why one show “takes” online any more than why one runs or not, but it’s interesting, isn’t it.
Seen at the New Wimbledon Theatre at the afternoon performance on 10th September 2016.
For various reasons, I never saw the original London version at the Piccadilly Theatre, so, unlike (seemingly) most of the audience that afternoon, I have nothing to compare it with. I’m told that the original was a spectacular multi-media effort, with magical illusions to make the producer of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child’s” wand wilt.
According to the programme, this is a new version of the show, based on an American small-scale revival – and it is also designed for a national tour. So, I was prepared to accept the compromises… and there were. A superb sound design (Dan Samson) made up for Nick Riching’s rather spare lighting – notably lacking whenever an actor was condemned to leave up or down, alas – though mostly adequate. Mark Bailey managed to give us a sense of place with only minimal flat scenery and no projections, and a decent enough finale backdrop too.
Sadly, Richard Pinner’s illusions were reduced to the smallest scale, and those on the left of the auditorium emitted laughter at the “walking through the door (which conveniently has a sliding panel)” effect, and woeful “spirit leaving body” scenes. Also, could the budget not have stretched to authentic looking hospital and subway signage? Really disconcertingly poor artwork there.
The story itself is as gripping as the original movie, with enough sniffing from the audience around me to suggest the end found its mark. The first half has both pacing and choreography (Alistair David) issues, particularly in the ensemble dance numbers which fail to hide the lack of bodies for the scene and evoke no New York Street energy at all. From the emergence of fake psychic Oda Mae onwards however, things look up.
Oda Mae (Jacqui Dubois) is the real deal. Hilarious, all singing, all dancing and making the unlovable a real character, hers is the performance of the night. A nod to, for her acolyte, huge voiced Louisa (Tarisha Rommick).
For the men, this is Leo Sene’s evening, as evil a murderer as you’ll see on stage – an amoral triumph of characterisation. Notes too, for Sam Ferriday as Carl, his evil employer, and forlorn rapper Garry Lee Netley as the Subway Ghost.
So, with the supporting cast working hard, what of the leads, Sam and Molly? Andy Moss as Sam took a while to get comfortable and find his place on stage. His early scenes are sketched in, which doesn’t help, and the “big number” is hinted at then fizzles out at least twice (and, sadly does so again when its time finally comes). For all that, he’s a likable presence and a hint of real musical theatre ability happens when left alone on stage in the second half.
As Molly, Sarah Harding returned for the performance I saw, following treatment for a reported “Upper Respiratory Tract” infection – ironically” Miss Adelaide’s” complaint in “Guys and Dolls.” Ms Harding cuts a highly attractive figure (there is even an opportunity to observe her torso tattoos, for those into that sort of thing).
Her vocal skills could well have been affected by her problems earlier in the week, as she struggled with every higher note and found the “break” between high and low a struggle to negotiate. Theatre songs also require breathing and timing to transmit their message, and again, her health issues saw her pushed to make the required pauses and emphasis, which sadly proved beyond her capabilities at the time.
Probably down to the stress of it all, her songs were mostly delivered seated, in a rather “pop video” way, and her emotions were held firmly in check throughout, probably to prevent the exhaustion that performing a two and a half hour show after illness will surely cause. A little burst of dance near the end was a nice release for all, though. Still, it may be that the strain of unfamiliarity with musical theatre and its requirements are taking their toll early, with a substitution perhaps going to be required at some point if her health and abilities cannot be found.
In summary, this is an ensemble who try hard, has some outstanding cast members and a tale to tell which proved more than adequate reward for my cross-London trek.
(seen at the afternoon performance on 27th August 2016).
It isn’t surprising that most Brits will never have heard of this 1947 Rogers and Hammerstein musical. It has taken a mere 70 years or so to get a professional London premiere, and the results are, well, fascinating.
Even fewer will know that Stephen Sondheim was mentored by Hammerstein, and was a production assistant on the show. For those who know Sondheim’s work, this has to be a major source of inspiration for that particular musical theatre genius.
For this show is a museum demonstrating the birth of many techniques we see in musical theatre today. The ideas of a chorus, a biog-musical, puppetry and ‘concept over plot’ are all here. Over time, we’ve learned to use only one, or at most, two ideas in a show. R&H decided to try everything simultaneously – resulting in a commercial failure, but a genuinely thrilling experiment all the same.
The concept is to follow a child from birth – Doctor’s son Joseph Taylor Jr – to age 35. His birth being a public holiday in his village, the passing of relatives, the beginnings of romance, of leaving for college, of choosing a career path and partner and taking life decisions. It’s ambitious even for now, and it doesn’t work – but it was sure fun trying.
There’s great beauty in director Southerland’s scenes. From a tiny boy puppet learning to walk “One Foot, Other Foot,” to lovers across a divide and a wonderful “Money isn’t Everything” with signs pointing contrary directions, the simple traverse staging with a few planks, two ladders and a moving gantry keep the action focussed and fluid.
The cast too, are exceptional. Gary Tushaw as Joseph Taylor Jr, the ever-reliable Steve Watts as father Dr. Joseph Taylor, Emily Bull as Jr’s wife Jenny, Susan Travers as Grandma and newcomer Samuel Thomas as Brook are the stand-outs, with a talented ensemble around them.
Special mention too, for Katie Bernstein as Emily. A badly sited gantry for her energetically delivered “The Gentleman Is A Dope” gave my seat (A10) an exclusive view straight up her skirt… I looked away, but it was the most unusual angle I’ve ever heard a major show-stopping number from in 30 years of theatregoing.
And really, that’s a metaphor for the entire musical curiosity itself. The whole thing looks at what musical theatre can do, from a different angle – but would have benefitted from not being dragged down by trappings that could never succeed as intended.
Very beautifully done, with a cast worth catching, the chances are that we’ll never see this again professionally without extreme revisions first. That’s a shame, and the producers deserve the highest commendation for taking a chance to bring us the rarest of theatrical artefacts as they have
I don’t mean how many don’t watch “Top Gear” (never did, moving on), I mean giving them a guide on appropriate behaviour.
There’s been a lot in “The Stage” newspaper and others, discussing whether the old fashioned “sit down and shut up, except to laugh politely” form of theatregoing is an obsolete guide to good manners. Given that Kit Harrington says he didn’t mind the “Star Wars Bar Room” that was his audience recently, this is versus regular theatregoers like myself who don’t feel anything at all should change.
So, I was wondering if the compromise might be for producers to give their productions a rating, just like films, so we know what we can and can’t do. With that in mind, I’m suggesting the following:
AP: “Audience Participate.” Given to pantos, stand-up comedy etc. Anything where the audience is actively encouraged by the cast to shout out and / or heckle.
HP: “Hen Party.” Those ‘Jukebox Musicals’ and other shows that end with the audience encouraged to get up and dance in the aisle. An extra “HPD” category indicates that the theatre accept it’s fine to be drunk / take photos / generally behave without the slightest regard to anyone else around you.
C: “Celebrity.” You can make your feelings known by a loud whoop on first sighting the star, but other than that, being quiet and sober during the show is required.
R: “Regular.” The “sit down and shut up” rule applies. For regular theatregoers, who know what to do. All others can put up or ship out, basically.
Alternatively, the theatre staff themselves can rate shows according to their own observations and frustrations:
N: National Theatre audience. Quiet, well-behaved, well versed in theatre etiquette. Only likely disturbance is when one of them, unintentionally and discreetly, snuffs it during the show.
F: Same as the above, but in the West End. More of them likely to survive to the final curtain.
NE: Noisy but expected. Shows where the crowd won’t be the usual theatre lot, but should behave pretty well. Think “Funny Girl” etc.
WTF: Yep, it’s a “Jukebox Show” and we can’t control Mandy from Accounting, who is Jägerbomb’s best customer and will have a good time no matter what…
Maybe it’s time that reminders were printed on a leaflet sent with the tickets, and projected onto the curtain before the show begins. Back it up by adding proper, paid, security to the front-of-house team. Give the usually young, overwhelmed ushers the backup they need and deserve, with trained professionals available to physically remove miscreants.
Go a stage further. Think about the food and alcohol sold in the theatre. Limit it to quiet and lesser intoxicating products, and search bags more thoroughly for what is brought in.
Add that new technology that will block cameras, and make it clear that “we will prosecute.”
It is down to the theatre as much as the audience, but if we all start communicating, who knows what might just be achieved, longer term?
So, with the weather heating up, I’m taking a blog break. Back when the leaves start to change colour, on 7th September. Have a good summer, all.
Sunday 10th July 2016 was my day. All those months ago, when I was lucky enough to be in the first 400 to buy tickets, it finally arrived. Needing something to blog about today, I thought I’d add a few thoughts.
Don’t worry, I’m #keepingthesecret, and my opinion on the shows will be published on Theatremonkey.com after press night, in keeping with tradition. There will be no spoilers either now or when that opinion appears. Millions of fans deserve, I think, to come to the show as I did, knowing and expecting, without any clue what will happen.
What I will say is that it took some planning. So…
It’s a really long day. I left home at 11am, didn’t get back until 10pm. Some 5 hours 15 minutes of theatre, with a 2 hour 40 minute gap between. That’s intense, and if you are bringing children, it has to make even the liveliest wand wilt.
My first concern was the worrying email sent before the show about needing to be there an hour before to go through security. This turns out to be a roped off area under the main theatre canopy, with the most cheerful security staff – armed with their own type of wand, to check bags. There’s plenty of them – 4, for a mere 1400 customers, and if you don’t have a bag, you go on through anyway.
Two things bothered me. First, waiting in line (come December, I’m thinking you could sell a LOT of hot water bottles to all involved). That one wasn’t a problem. Sure, the line went from down the side of the theatre, turned a corner and went further round the block. It moved fast, less than 10 minutes to reach the head of it. Coming back for Part 2, just 15 minutes to spare for me, and I walked straight to the table.
Second thing that bothered me – they don’t allow you to bring food in. Sensible. Some audiences think they can eat McDonalds during a show… trust me, NOT a good idea. However, there are a few like myself who (for personal reasons) need to bring something. No problem. An email to them well in advance, and the duty manager knew all about it and was delighted to assist. He even recognised me second time around.
If you think the elaborate and beautifully themed tickets, website and emails are something, trust me, the experience extends to the staff. Disney theme park standard, the lot of them (or should it be Universal Studios this time?). Once past security, your tickets are taken at the main doors (rather than at the auditorium entrance inside, as is usual). Melissa is the staff member to look out for. An amazing sense of humour, this is the welcome anyone at a theatre would want – and another person with a memory for faces.
In the foyer, a massive souvenir shop has everything from pencils to (expensive, as in, Poundland does them way cheaper) owls, large and small. By the staircase, though, is the programme desk, a reasonable £5 for the two parts – at normal West End prices, I’d have expected twice £4. And it’s a decently written one too, with plenty to read.
A nice touch for non-regulars is that all the doors are numbered, and the numbers marked on your tickets. This theatre has a single staircase to all levels, and doors 1 and 2 are for the stalls (downstairs, ground level), 3 and 4 at dress circle level (first tier), 5 and 6 for the grand circle (second tier) and 7 and 8 for the balcony (third tier, and a long walk up the stairs). Staff seem attuned to helping newcomers, and their directions to seats is impeccable.
Once seated, I have to say the audience experience, for me at least, was wonderful. Well behaved, children wearing Hogwarts Uniforms (no Slytherins, all Gryffendors, I think), even the odd adult with a Potter scarf. I was also lucky that those around me were well-behaved, and there was something surreal about seeing the same folk in the same seats return for the second play. Not sure what. I guess if someone tall / annoying is nearby, you have a problem, but I didn’t.
Only thing to remember – it’s really hot in the theatre. The Palace isn’t known for air-conditioning, and even on a 22 degree Celsius day, it was sweaty in the front stalls (a woman in front of me kept taking off her light fleece and putting it on again). Be prepared for all climates, I’d say.
Anyhow, what to do during the break? I tried something new – a “day room” at the Academy Hotel on Gower Street. 15 minute walk for me, 25 or so I guess for someone slower. Fairly expensive at £59, but it worked. A small third floor en-suite hotel room. Somewhere I could relax in peace, eat, wash (have a shower if I’d felt like it), write my notes up, watch Murray win Wimbledon. Around 2 hours for the same price as I’ve paid for a play of similar length. Worked for me – and if you think that the cost can be split among friends, it’s an idea that beats trailing the streets for the time, I feel.
It’s a long, long day, I think, and I do urge that you plan it a bit, but for those “doing the double” it’ll certainly be a different way of spending your weekend… and one you can’t talk about. You get a free badge after each show – the ushers hand them out. The badge reads “#keepthesecrets,” so, please, do!
Monday 4th July 2016.
What do you expect an 88 year old man to do on a Monday Evening?
a) Struggle upstairs to bed around 8pm.
b) Doze off in his chair around 7pm – just after finishing his 5pm nap?
c) Stand on stage at the Royal Festival Hall in London for two and a half hours without a break, giving an unforgettable account of his life’s work?
Obviously, here, the answer is C.
I will also state, for the record, that it has to be the strangest concert I’ve ever attended. I expected a “Slick American” event. A big orchestra, running through their carefully rehearsed pre-planned set list, with the ‘leading man’ perhaps seated at a piano – occasionally speaking to us, or joining in a few of the songs. Cool and professional to the end.
What we got instead was “our friend Burt, inviting 2000 of his old friends round to his place for the evening, maybe a few tunes, a few stories, a quick sing-along.” The outsized hall shrank to the size of his lounge, as he casually chatted, shuffled piles of manuscript on top of his piano, told the odd story then decided that “this is the next one we’ll play.”
The full orchestra was present and correct, augmented by Bacharach Junior on keyboards (Junior’s sister was in the audience – horsewoman, not musician, apparently) and guitar-playing vocalist John Pagano.
Two more lady vocalists, the remarkable Josie James, and expressive Donna Taylor made the most of their spots, James stealing the first half, Taylor the star of the “Film Medley” in the second.
The middle section of the show also saw barefoot Joss Stone pad on for almost an hour of banter, stunning song (“I’ll Never Fall In Love Again,” “Close To You” “The Look of Love” ‘ ‘nice tune’ she quipped, you had to be there) and uninhibited giggling when things didn’t go totally to plan.
Still and all, it is Mr Bacharach himself who was celebrated and who celebrated himself. Growling his stories, some old, some new, always startling as he reveals just how and with whom he worked, his generosity shone. From acknowledging every member of his orchestra, to shaking hands with and signing programmes for fans in the front row. Always in charge, always given respect rather than having to command it.
For weeks leading up to the concert, as tickets became increasingly scarce, I admit I worried whether he’d be able to do the show at all. Last night, I heard the man himself sing “Magic Moments,” “Alfie” and “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” (that last one, twice). To have caught somebody deserving of the title “living legend” and found that he more than lives up to that billing – and goes far beyond, I honestly feel. Well, I am very happy indeed that I shared that “Magic Moment” with him. A memory that will remain forever.
Say, is there a song in that?!
The New London Theatre has one of the most flexible auditoriums in London. So, when “War Horse” closed out went the paddock – and in came a dock, allowing Show Boat “Cotton Blossom” to float right into the centre of the stalls.
Naturally, with a totally new layout, I wanted to do what Theatremonkey is famous for – test the sightlines and value-for-money of every seat, adding new material to the site’s unique ’30 years of personal experience’ database.
The wonderfully helpful folk at Really Useful Theatres were happy to oblige, with Richard, their Director of Ticketing, kindly arranging it all (his partner even supplied the witty title for this blog). And so it was that one Thursday Morning in April, myself, Peter – Really Useful Theatre Group’s Box Office Manager, and Lindsey – the New London’s own Box Office Manager extraordinaire, convened in the foyer.
Promptly adjourning to the stage door, (where I’d just been to sign in and get a “visitor” sticker; all out of “Cats” ones, apparently, and had been for years) and via the world’s smallest lift – which can apparently take a wheelchair, just – we quickly found ourselves in a silent auditorium. Minus audiences, they are surprisingly un-nerving spaces. Sometimes, there are crews working to set up the show, others, it’s just you, your guides and a few ‘ghosts of shows past’ as you look around and remember.
A quick glance at an entirely empty auditorium can suggest that every seat has a similar view, many rows pretty much identical. Only time, and the space to explore, reveals just how much variation there is – even in adjacent seats. It’s this variation that provides the basis for Theatremonkey, of course; but it is even more crucial to the Box Office team, as Peter and Lindsey explained.
Peter started by handing me a printed sheet, detailing every seat they knew to have a problem. Some due to rails (replacing those with Perspex was discussed, and rejected, as neither council inspectors nor customers would trust it as safe), others for TV monitors so actors could see the orchestra’s conductor, and even a few (they do care as much as I do about this) for severe lack of legroom. Each potentially couldn’t be sold at “top price,” but it is here that a delicate balancing act begins.
The final price decision lies with a show’s producers, as they ‘own’ the place for the duration of the run (under the ‘four wall deal’). It’s important to them, of course, that as many seats as possible are sold at the highest price – to return them a profit.
For Peter, the profit consideration for the tenant has to be paramount – but he has also to think of the theatre’s customers, to maximise their enjoyment of the evening and reduce the possibility of complaints. He also needs to ensure a good mix of prices, to suit all pockets.
At the box office counter itself, Lindsey would have the job of convincing the customer that a seat was great value. With both producer and customer to please, it is thus up to both herself and Peter to pool their deep knowledge and experience of both auditorium and ticket retailing and come up with a price structure tempting customers to spend simultaneously the maximum possible – and feel they were getting a bargain, too.
In the end, the only way to do it, is to “walk the theatre,” testing every seat. And so, for two hours, we did.
Starting in the furthest stalls corner, we walked along the rows, regularly pausing to sit down and look at the stage… and compare the seat numbers with the “price maps” (those colour-coded seating plans showing ticket prices).
Trust me, it’s both an art and a science – and something Really Useful Group theatres take extremely, extremely seriously. Peter, who had seen the show already (well, half, he was due to see the rest the next week) was able to explain the movements of the set, and how it might affect views. Later in our visit, as the crew prepared for that afternoon’s performance, the set did move into its second position, and his observations were spot-on accurate – confirming how skilled a job pricing is.
The very cheapest seats are just that. You can see and enjoy most of the show, only missing part of a scene happening above you at an angle, and seeing fewer actors’ faces (not always a bad thing, perhaps) and more actors’ well… anyway….
As you move towards the main section of the theatre, the prices increase, and the difference a few inches makes is very evident (no sniggering at the back). The most interesting change comes, though, between the ‘top’ and ‘second’ price. Quite a drop in cash terms, and yet, in a reverse of a wine-list, the second most expensive ticket is the one most often passed over…
… This time, stalls seats J1 and 2 had me asking an amused Peter if he’d brought his “Father Christmas” costume that day. Second price, perfectly angled towards the stage – as Peter says, “you must have some really ‘great value’ seats in this band.” He’s right, and these were they. A valuable lesson for ticket buyers in every theatre, I think (my beloved cheaper stalls seats at Wyndhams and the Royal Court Theatres being other examples).
Moving upstairs to the circle, the art of pricing became even more interesting. The New London’s unique blend of rails, curves and varied legroom – plus those TV screens – produce a real patchwork of clear views and seat comfort. All of which have to be taken into consideration, along with the desires of some customers to get that “overall” view of the show only balconies provide.
Some seats are easy to classify. Side view of half the stage, through wires? Bottom price. One leg comfortable, the other wrapped around a post… you can see the stage, but… second from bottom price, but warn the customer, and so it goes.
The difficulty comes in the main section of seating, where producers hope to make the most money, and customers would like to be… but won’t always like what they are going to get.
Those TV screens again. Fixed on the balcony front, the balcony isn’t thick enough to attach them without the screens blocking views for either circle customers above, or stalls folk below. Result? A dozen seats in the circle lose a chunk of stage. If that isn’t bad enough, two prime rows of seats have less legroom than those behind… AND the back row has easily the clearest view of proceedings, but is a little further away and is a coin-toss for either top or second price. The Box Office team called for second, producer top, so producers won (prices were revised a little later in the run). The point again, though, is to underline just how many factors affect even the most expensive area of seating, when it comes to ‘pricing the goods to sell.’
With the theatre’s multi-channel sound system being tested (perfect acoustics and multiple speaker channels makes even bland hard rock sound amazing) and a quick return to the stalls to see the boat move into position, it was time to take my leave and ponder just how much work goes into this little considered but most vital of all aspects of our customer experience.
Next time you buy a ticket, selecting it from the screen online, you can be sure that people like Richard, Peter and Lindsey are using singular skills, working very hard to bring you the best deal they can. Prices are high, we all know that, but theatres actually are interested in customer satisfaction as well as ensuring the shows can keep running at a profit. Reassuring, isn’t it!
My thanks to Richard, Peter, Lindsey and all at Really Useful Theatres and the New London Theatre for their kindness and hospitality. Without it, this article, and everything on the Theatremonkey site about seating for “Show Boat” could not have been written.