I attended a performance of “South Pacific” this evening at Lincoln Center. I just want to give a shout out to the people and things who made it so memorable:
1. To the woman in front of me who turned around and told me to shut up and stop talking while the lights were still on at intermission and people were filing back to their seats. I’m not sure if you noticed, lady, but in between acts, I AM ALLOWED TO TALK. I have a BFA in Music Theatre, I think I should know.
2. To the row of gay people behind me who sang every single song. Not while the actors were singing mind you, but just after a song ended while we all clapped or during set changes or during scenes with dialogue. And I’m not talking humming, I’m talking flat out belting. SOME ENCHANTED EVENIIIIIIIIIIING, YOU MAY SEE A STRANGERRRRRRRRR! I did not pay money to hear you sing in my ear. I paid money to hear the people on the stage. See also: my Music Theatre degree.
3. To Rodgers and Hammerstein for perfecting the art of reprising a song 10,000 times during the course of the show. Margot and I could not get over the fact that the show was set up as follows:
a. CHARACTER SINGS SONG
b. AUDIENCE CLAPS
c. CHARACTER SINGS THE WHOLE DAMN SONG AGAIN
d. AUDIENCE CLAPS
e. CHARACTER SINGS LAST 16 BARS OF THE SAME DAMN SONG
f. AUDIENCE IS CLAPPING UNETHUSIASTICALLY AND THINKING “WTF?????”
I get it! I do! You’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love, you’re in love with a WONDERFUL GUY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
4. To some of the most brilliant lighting I’ve ever seen on a Broadway stage in my entire life, holler.
5. To Margot who had the genius idea of meeting me after work and waiting in the cancellation line.
6. To the universe for allowing two people to cancel their tickets so Margot and I could enjoy three hours of Rodgers and Hammersteiny goodness.
7. Finally, to the 400 pound man sitting next to me with his girlfriend (who was half his age), who was talking on his cellphone as the lights went down and the orchestra started playing and yelled loudly into the phone that, “THE SEATS HERE ARE MADE FOR LITTLE KIDS, THE USHERS ARE YELLING AT ME TO PUT THE PHONE DOWN, WHAT? WHAT? THE SHOW? OH. THE SHOW IS STARTING RIGHT NOW.”
At intermission, he took his lady friend and never came back. And for that, I thank you, my dear overweight, miserable gentleman because I put my bag on your seat so I could have more leg room and enjoyed the second act without your ridiculous commentary that may or may not have included, “THAT GUY SINGING IS A FAG.”
Thank you for leaving the theater. If you hadn’t, I would now be on my way to jail for killing you.