A Good Summer Going, Going, Gone...

Everybody has a favorite moment—a combination of sight, sound, and sense that simultaneously summons comfort and evokes excitement. For me, that moment occurs approximately seven minutes past the hour, when I sit ensconced in whatever happens to be passing for a theater, and the lights begin to dim. There’s a split-second when I’m not sure if my eyes are playing tricks on me—I wonder if in my eagerness for the show’s start I have seen a change in lighting that did not actually occur— but as the darkness creeps over the theater, I remember to exhale. Some people clap at this point, probably relieved that the wait is over; I don’t, as I believe I would be overly compensating the techie who turned down the house lights. Instead, I shut the playbill in my lap, fold my arms, and simply stare at the stage. It doesn’t matter whether I’m about to see a show for the first time or the fifteenth, that moment still gets me.

This summer, I experienced that moment many times, taking in shows ranging from Shakespeare to farce, in places as varied as an outdoor amphitheater in the D.C. area and a cavernous theater on London’s West End. What follows is a catalogue of those theatergoing experiences, a sort of journal, compiled in chronological order for your reading pleasure (not to mention my writing convenience).

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE LONDON

The journey began in London, where I touched down within 48 hours of departing Cambridge, allowing only a brief stopover at my New York home. No rest for the weary in London, though—four shows in four days.

Stop number one? Les Mis. Why? Well, I don’t know exactly, it wasn’t my pick. Actually, I love the show and was not disappointed at the prospect of seeing it on the West End and getting a peek at how long-running mega-musicals look over there. In the case of Les Mis, at least, they don’t look too good; it is the first show I have ever left at intermission. There was no passion, no movement, no acting—and therefore, no me to begin Act 2.

Things perked up considerably with one of the shows I chose, the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of the musical, The Secret Garden. Though I’ve always found the show’s score lovely, the slow-paced book and pedantic staging of the original and licensed production made for an underwhelming experience. The RSC’s streamlined adaptation, while not perfect, drew on the source material far more effectively than the original staging, creating an immensely enjoyable and genuinely beautiful production. If you can get your hands on the hard-to-get recording of the new production, do so, for the reorchestrations, new beginning, and revised song order all deeply enhance the dramatic experience.