Last night my boyfriend and I had the pleasure of seeing Taylor Mac perform his The Young Ladies Of... at HERE Performing Arts Center. Now, boys and girls, I am old enough to have directed a show at HERE back before HERE was fancy enough to assume the "Performing Arts Center" suffix. I remember the HERE where before each night's performance,
we placed bets as to which lighting instrument would go out mid-show.
But that's neither here nor there. (sorry, couldn't resist)
Since buying the building and thus taking control of their own destiny, I have to say the place looks like a million bucks. The entrance sports a brand spanking new café, where if you know the right code word, you can even obtain some hooch to go in your coffee. The bathrooms are all-new with the very cheeky feature of placards above urinals letting all who visit know just who paid for which fixture. I think they even employ the word, "pissoir," which I found particularly cute.
The theatre itself is beautifully renovated and as a friend and fan of Taylor's I was delighted for him to see his work mounted in a clean and comfy venue. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, it's well worth the $20. He's got two of his signature shows running in rep, a particularly provocative and ballsy move, I'd say. To check it out, visit HERE.org.
Unfortunately, seated in front of us were four of the rudest middle-aged people I think I've ever seen in a theatre. Well, maybe not the rudest. That prize will forever go to the woman who sat in front of me in the balcony at the Broadway premiere of The Wiz and waited only until the first chords of the overture before revealing a bucket (not a box or a bag but a bucket!) of Kentucky Fried Chicken and proceeded to devour every piece during Act I without ever offering even a wing or a bone to chew on to those of us within smell-shot. [editor's note: For those under the age of 30, Kentucky Fried Chicken is what we now call KFC]
So Taylor's work is provocative, funny, sometimes graphic, very smart and, if one pays attention, quite poignant. This show was no exception. But the four goons in the front row, apparently drunk or just plain rude, would not stop leaning over and whispering to each other, passing candies back and forth, asking each other whether they really wanted to stay 'til the end and basically distracting and annoying the rest of us. So much so that at one point when one of the men got up to leave, the entire audience erupted in applause and Taylor in a particularly adroit ad-lib hollered: "Okay, now it's time for one member of the audience to leave! I pick you!" Sadly for all of us, the man in question was only going to relieve his bladder and returned far too soon.
The bad behavior of this quartet got me thinking about venue and expectations. See, I think back when Taylor was playing clubs like the Marquee or Fez, places where drinks are served, a certain type of ticket buyer simply couldn't accidentally wander in. I want to call them the Just-grabbed-Time-Out-and-picked-the-first-thing-I-saw set. Now, I'm all for expanding one's horizons, so in the end I think it's a great thing that since HERE has become The HERE Performing Arts Center and Home of Endowed Pissoirs, more random folk will stumble upon brilliant work like the work of my friend Taylor.
But, really, I'm beginning to wonder if maybe we need to start offering courses in theatre-going manners. I mean, when did people suddenly decide that it was acceptable to voice their confusion about a show during the show? And within 4 feet of the performer, no less!
The theatre is not your livingroom, people! Please grow up!
