Other Stuff: Observations from the Audience

When I’m in New York I love going to Lincoln Center Theater. André Bishop, the Producing Artistic Director of Lincoln Center Theater, programs a consistently bracing, artful list of plays and musicals at the theatre since he began there more than 30 years ago. André Bishop has nurtured and encouraged a who’s who of playwrights from Tom Stoppard, David Hare, Wendy Wasserstein, Ayad Akhtar and Sarah Ruhl to name a tiny few. I get an education in the artform when I go to that theatre. It’s also afforded me some “stories from the audience”. Here are two to begin the new year with a laugh and a touch of a furrowed brow.

Uncle Vanya.

Written by Anton Chekhov

A new version by Heidi Schreck

Directed by Lila Neugebauer

Starring Steve Carell

I saw a production of Uncle Vanya with Steve Carell as Uncle Vanya; modern dress; starry cast certainly with Steve Carell. It was a Saturday matinee audience. They are different from an evening audience.

I had a great seat, four seats in from the center aisle about 5 rows from the front. Three stylish women of a certain age sat beside me from the aisle in. They sat and settled, sort of. The woman to my right had a malleable plastic bag of nuts she bought in the lobby. She ate the nuts one at a time. Such discipline-not a handful of nuts, but one at a time.  Her hand slowly burrowed into the bag, pulled out one nut and ate it slowly. This continued beyond the show starting. Slowly the hand burrowed deeper and deeper into the bag, making a bit of noise—crunch etc. Until I had to lean towards her and whisper: “Are you almost finished?” She immediately put the bag away without comment.

The show progressed. Uncle Vanya railed against the Professor (a wonderful Alfred Molina) about his lot in life. Dr. Astrov (William Jackson Harper) lamented how tired he was, but never sat down to talk to Marina (Mia Katigbak) the housekeeper to indicated he was tired. Sonia (Alison Pill) pined for the Astrov. I always get heartsick for her. The woman on the end fussed in her purse. She fussed so much in her purse that the two people in front of her kept turning around to try and get her attention to STOP!!

At intermission, the woman in front of the fusser turned and asked in an annoyed voice, “What were you doing for the whole act. You disturbed people with your fussing.” The ‘fusser’ said in a hurt/annoyed voice: “I was looking for my medication!” Hmm I didn’t think the production was that stressful.  She was looking for her medication? Yikes.

At Intermission the trio of women left to buy more snacks. When they returned the woman in the middle tried and failed to open her bottle of water. She fussed about that. The woman on the aisle opened it for her.

Act II began.  All quiet for a little while. Astrov brought his maps to impress the beautiful Elena (Anika Noni Rose). There were lots of bells and whistles with the production: rainfall, Sonia laid down in a puddle on the stage. Stunning.

The woman on the aisle, however, was pre-occupied with her purse, or rather something in the purse. This was a purse of many zippered compartments and she carefully, slowly opened every one individually, rummaged in the depths of each compartment, couldn’t find what she wanted, slowly, carefully zipped up each compartment and then moved to the next compartment. The couple in front of her moved to two seats in front of them, to get away from the noise of the rummaging. 

Elena and Sonia confide in each other. Sonia is disappointed Astrov has no feelings for her because he’s smitten by Elena. Vanya is disappointed at the turn of events in his life—all his doing. I’m gritting my teeth because the woman on the aisle began looking in each compartment again, for something desperately needed: her meds? A Kleenex? The Rosetta Stone? No. She finally found it; her compact. In the middle of Act II of Uncle Vanya in a dark theatre, this woman needed to open her compact to look in the mirror, to put on lipstick and freshen her face-powder. I wonder if she has to practice being this stupid, ill-mannered, self-absorbed and witless. There was not enough light for her to see, so she leaned into the aisle, hoping to catch the light of the aisle lighting. I’m wondering for whom this makeup touch-up was for: the nut muncher beside me? The weak-woman-who-could-not-unscrew-her-water-bottle-cap beside her? Uncle Vanya? The make-up applied, the woman carefully put everything back in its proper compartment, the zipper slowly zipped, the purse carefully laid in the lap and the hands neatly folded on top of the purse. This ‘performance’ was almost as good as on stage—almost.

When the show was over and the bows were to begin, the woman on the aisle hauled her body slowly out of the seat (not applauding anyone) as she slowly beat a lurching retreat up the aisle. The other two women stayed, applauded weakly and then slowly left, leaving behind a mess of programs, inserts exhorting, half-filled water bottles, empty nut bags on the floor over which the rest us slid and trampled through as we left.

Civilization as we know it, is doomed.

McNeal   

Written by Ayad Akhtar

Directed by Bartlett Sher

Starring Robert Downey Jr.

It seems this need to cast celebrities that has infected Broadway has finally caught up to Lincoln Center Theater. Steve Carell in Uncle Vanya and Robert Downey Jr. in McNeal.

McNeal is about a celebrated author, Jacob McNeal, who has won the Nobel Prize for Literature. He’s prickly, a bad friend, bad husband and bad father. Is he based on Saul Bellow? Bellow is referenced.

It’s also about Artificial Intelligence. Jacob McNeal asks his ‘devices’ to re-write two classic works “in the style of Jacob McNeal” and the result is a book that is published. I thought Robert Downey Jr. gave a performance created by Artificial Intelligence, only without the ‘intelligence.’ I thought it was mannered, full of ticks and idiosyncrasies. Andrea Martin played McNeal’s literary agent. I had no idea what she was doing in that part either, except it seemed a send-up of anything that resembled a real person—earnest and phony.

However, again, it was a guy in the audience that got my eyebrows raised. He sat on the aisle baseball cap, windbreaker, comfy shoes and pants. And he bought about $100 worth of snacks from the bar/concession area in the lobby, which he distributed to some of the people in his row and the row behind him: licorice, Jr. Mints, M & Ms a bag of nuts, bottles of water.

On stage was a huge cell phone with the date (Oct. 10) and the time—both did not reflect the actual date and time of the performance. “Snack-man” called the usher over.  He wanted to know the significance of the date and time on the huge cell phone. The usher, smart, knowledgeable about audiences, told him that all would be revealed in the play—that the date and time played a part of the story. The usher went back to her post at the back of the theatre. “Snack-man” began eating the snacks.

Now close to show time. “Snack-man” calls the usher over again, this time he’s showing he’s learned a thing or two since his last encounter with the usher. He says: I’ve paid $250 for the seats, indicating a few people beside him. What’s this story about?” I sucked air. I wonder, ‘why would you even attend if you haven’t done any homework? Found out about the story/play? The usher leaned in and quietly answered him….I assume she sized him up and did give him a short precis. He was a guy who bought the tickets because of the celebrity playing the lead.

The house lights dimmed. The play began. The audience became quiet except for the noise, “forest-fire” of crackling of cellophane from the wrappers, munching of the snacks and gurgling of drinking coming from “Snack-Man” on the aisle. It lasted the whole show. People turned and looked at him as the noise continued. No one told him to be quiet. At the end he left a pile of garbage that was ankle deep in the row.

Every program has an insert that is longer than the program so that the first word of the insert is prominent. The word is PLEASE in bold and in a huge font. That gets our attention. The rest of the message urges us pointedly to PLEASE turn off our cell phones to ensure they don’t go off in the play and disturb the actors and your fellow patrons.

Here is my question: Why should we turn off our damned cell phones when every theatre encourages the cacophony caused by the snacks we buy in the lobby and take into the theatre, to go undeterred during the play? Do they think a cell phone going off suddenly and stopped (if we are lucky) just as quickly, is worse than the consistent crinkle, rustling, chomping, gurgling and munching during the play? Nope.

Open the bar and concessions at 9 am and have the folks gorge until showtime and then, nothing is allowed in that theatre except water—in a carton. How about that? Do ya think folks would stamp their feet and leave if they can’t graze as if they are at the movies (where the sound is 10 times louder than needed) or at a sporting event where silence doesn’t matter. Huh?

Civilization, as we know it, is doomed.

Happy New Year.