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Broadway's clever business model: painful can still be pleasurable Broadway's clever business model: painful can still be pleasurable
(about 1 hour later)
Just before Christmas, I went to the theatre. It was a Harold Pinter play, so I was expecting a rough night, and a horrible time of year, so ditto. But even allowing for these things, it struck me afresh that, with the exception of flying, there is no cost to discomfort ratio more out of whack for the consumer than the Broadway experience.Just before Christmas, I went to the theatre. It was a Harold Pinter play, so I was expecting a rough night, and a horrible time of year, so ditto. But even allowing for these things, it struck me afresh that, with the exception of flying, there is no cost to discomfort ratio more out of whack for the consumer than the Broadway experience.
Americans are not, by and large, known for their docility in the face of poor customer service. (I was reminded of this during the big freeze this week, when American friends whose apartments dipped below 70 degrees fahrenheit effectively threatened their landlords with arrest. In Britain, you put another sweater on and warm your hands over a pyre of burning resentment). So how theatres in New York get away with it is interesting. Americans are not, by and large, known for their docility in the face of poor customer service. (I was reminded of this during the big freeze this week, when American friends whose apartments dipped below 70F effectively threatened their landlords with arrest. In Britain, you put another sweater on and warm your hands over a pyre of burning resentment). So how theatres in New York get away with it is interesting.
It is partly to do with one's pliability in the face of long-held prejudices. Tickets on Broadway cost more than a flight to Miami and deliver the comfort of a middle-row seat in economy to Bangkok, but it doesn't matter; Broadway is the last bastion of a certain kind of thinking, which is: if it hurts, it must be working.It is partly to do with one's pliability in the face of long-held prejudices. Tickets on Broadway cost more than a flight to Miami and deliver the comfort of a middle-row seat in economy to Bangkok, but it doesn't matter; Broadway is the last bastion of a certain kind of thinking, which is: if it hurts, it must be working.
For many of us, going to the theatre is still bound by notions leftover from school that art is occurring and we'd better knuckle down and enjoy it, or else. If it's uncomfortable, all the better, and everything is set up to encourage this mindset: making you wait outside the theatre, no matter the weather, until the last possible moment. Even in the West End, where the seats are as small but the tickets at least cheaper, you're allowed to mill in the foyer long before showtime – and then marshaling you brusquely across the threshold, past the bar where you can drop $20 for a gin and tonic and on to your seat, where, getting up to let others pass, you threaten to pitch forward into oblivion, never to return. (Unless you're in the expensive seats, where all you suffer is the indignity of a chest or knee bump with the person you'll be listening to breath for the next two hours.) At the end of the performance, you are chucked out a side-door into an alley by the dumpster. For many of us, going to the theatre is still bound by notions leftover from school that art is occurring and we'd better knuckle down and enjoy it, or else. If it's uncomfortable, all the better, and everything is set up to encourage this mindset: making you wait outside the theatre, no matter the weather, until the last possible moment.
Even in the West End, where the seats are as small but the tickets at least cheaper, you're allowed to mill in the foyer long before showtime – and then marshaling you brusquely across the threshold, past the bar where you can drop $20 for a gin and tonic and on to your seat, where, getting up to let others pass, you threaten to pitch forward into oblivion, never to return. (Unless you're in the expensive seats, where all you suffer is the indignity of a chest or knee bump with the person you'll be listening to breath for the next two hours.) At the end of the performance, you are chucked out a side-door into an alley by the dumpster.
It's a metaphor for something, I'm sure. And I know you can't blame the theatre for the behaviour of the audience. At the Pinter, coughing reached tuberculosis-ward levels and a woman a few seats down from us maintained, throughout the performance, a stage whisper describing the action to the man she was sitting with. ("He's walking to the drinks cabinet. Ian McKellen is leaving the room. The other man is crawling on the floor. He's come back in in his pajamas.") Her companion was blind, but it was hard to believe that he wasn't, like the rest of us, overcoming violent impulses to make her stop.It's a metaphor for something, I'm sure. And I know you can't blame the theatre for the behaviour of the audience. At the Pinter, coughing reached tuberculosis-ward levels and a woman a few seats down from us maintained, throughout the performance, a stage whisper describing the action to the man she was sitting with. ("He's walking to the drinks cabinet. Ian McKellen is leaving the room. The other man is crawling on the floor. He's come back in in his pajamas.") Her companion was blind, but it was hard to believe that he wasn't, like the rest of us, overcoming violent impulses to make her stop.
The odd thing is that these conditions persist in an age when all forms of entertainment are subject to such fierce competition. As the tech expo, CES, has been demonstrating this week, the sophistication of home entertainment is such that it is a wonder any of us ever leaves the house. Even going to the movies, at $20 a shot, looks increasingly unappealing in the face of new 4S screen technology: "four times sharper than HD", say the releases, which Netflix among others will be filming in this year and will presumably make reality look like a shabby also-ran.The odd thing is that these conditions persist in an age when all forms of entertainment are subject to such fierce competition. As the tech expo, CES, has been demonstrating this week, the sophistication of home entertainment is such that it is a wonder any of us ever leaves the house. Even going to the movies, at $20 a shot, looks increasingly unappealing in the face of new 4S screen technology: "four times sharper than HD", say the releases, which Netflix among others will be filming in this year and will presumably make reality look like a shabby also-ran.
In such a climate, you would think theatres would make an effort to coddle their patrons, but perhaps they know something we don't. There is no accounting for how and why people behave the way they do, which is why economic forecasting is always being upended by perverse spending habits. When you pay $180 for a ticket, you have to enjoy yourself, or you're an idiot, right? (Am I enjoying this? How much am I enjoying this? OK I am definitely enjoying this. A lot.) Satisfaction is to some extent guaranteed, hence the uniform standing ovations on Broadway, no matter how lukewarm the play. In such a climate, you would think theatres would make an effort to coddle their patrons, but perhaps they know something we don't. There is no accounting for how and why people behave the way they do, which is why economic forecasting is always being upended by perverse spending habits. When you pay $180 for a ticket, you have to enjoy yourself, or you're an idiot, right? (Am I enjoying this? How much am I enjoying this? OK, I am definitely enjoying this. A lot.) Satisfaction is to some extent guaranteed, hence the uniform standing ovations on Broadway, no matter how lukewarm the play.
None of which is to denigrate live performing. You are paying for the frisson that comes from the possibility of error, and for the ineffable sense that you are experiencing something that can't be captured, repeated or manipulated. You are also, perhaps, paying for that rare sense of collective propriety that makes, say, looking at your phone impossible. Oh, and the fact that when it's good at the theatre, it's better than anything. You will put up with a lot of unaugmented reality, for that.None of which is to denigrate live performing. You are paying for the frisson that comes from the possibility of error, and for the ineffable sense that you are experiencing something that can't be captured, repeated or manipulated. You are also, perhaps, paying for that rare sense of collective propriety that makes, say, looking at your phone impossible. Oh, and the fact that when it's good at the theatre, it's better than anything. You will put up with a lot of unaugmented reality, for that.
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