Skip to main content

Little Can Be Just as Satisfying as Broadway

Small Town's Little Theater is presenting Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella over a period of three weekend. It's the version written for television in the 60s and originally starring Julie Andrews. The little theater is actually little and probably only holds about 250 people in squeaky seats that will put me in need of knee replacements if I have to sit in them for more than two hours at a time. The concession stand sells Pepsi and M&Ms, and the cast stands out front to shake your hand on your way out the door after every performance.

All of the productions use local talent—acting, singing, directing, costuming, set design and sometimes pit music. It's all put together by volunteers, and the building is maintained using private donations and corporate sponsors.

There are some people who mock this little theater, people who have lived here for decades but have never attended a single show because they assume it would be like attending a middle school performance of Our Town with cardboard trees falling down and squeaky clarinets piercing through the entr'acte. But these shows are actually very good. The soloists are strong and on pitch (mostly), and I've yet to see an element of the set fall to the floor or a member of the cast forget a line. Plus, a ticket is only $10.

Husband and I went to the show last weekend, and it was delightful—colorful costumes, a bold and impressive chorus of townspeople and not one glitch that I could detect. The front rows were filled with little girls who giggled when the prince kissed his bride; and when he slipped the glass shoe onto her foot, and a little kid shouted "ew," everyone had a good chuckle. It was a satisfying evening at the theater.

Next week, we'll be in New York for a few days, and we're going to see The Miracle Worker with tickets running $117. Add the fee, and each ticket will be $152.10. That's one-hundred fifty-two dollars and ten cents. Seriously. $300 for two people to see a show compared to the $20 it cost us to see our neighbors perform Cinderella.

Granted, the Broadway show isn't performed by volunteers, and there are hundreds of union workers and investors involved. We'll be paying for the atmosphere and the knowledge that we're seeing a show on Broadway with all of its history and reputation. The sound system will be far superior to the little theater's, as will the lighting and the costumes and the sets and the props.

But afterward, when we're walking out of the theater and reviewing the experience, while the cast is slipping out the back door, I wonder if we'll think we got that extra $280 worth of theatrical entertainment.

Comments

dive said…
I do love local amateur theatre and music groups, Robyn. They keep communities alive.
Much as I also love opera and professional theatre it never has quite the same feel and sense of involvement that small productions have.
I'm glad you enjoy them both.

Popular posts from this blog

No More Mr. Nice Guy

It's good to be a nice person--to say nice things, to do nice things, to write nice things--but I declare an end to the use of the word nice. Nice is what you say when you can't think of any other adjective. Someone shows you a picture of their back yard--that's nice. Someone tells you about their afternoon adventure--that's nice. Or someone describes their childhood in great detail and sometimes with painstaking effort--that's nice. It's a lazy word, and it's non-descriptive. Nice is like mashed potatoes with noodles and chicken gravy all in a big pile on one plate with some canned corn for garnish. Everything is the same color and texture and base substance--starch (this is a favorite Amish dish). Nice is like a partly cloudy day in April when outside feels like inside, and you can't tell a difference between the lighting and the temperature of your living room and the lighting and temperature of your front yard. Nice is a glass of lukewarm water. ...

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...

Ish People

Tell an Ish person to show up around 9 a.m., and you'll see them somewhere around 9 a.m. Tell them to show up at 9ish, and you'll see them anywhere from 9:05 to 9:20. You have given them license to dilly dally, and who wouldn't take advantage of that? The other night at the big shindig dinner party, one of the drummers said the rehearsal the next morning would begin at 9ish. "I am an ish person," he says. Immediately the clanker goes off in my head--oh, good, I thought. I can deliver my daughter a little late. No Ish person is early, so if you say 9ish, that does not mean give or take 5, 10, 15 minutes. It's exclusively a taking phrase. Take an extra 10 minutes to drink your cup of coffee. We won't mind. We're Ish people. Sunday's rehearsal started at 2:00. Because it was conducted by the same people who conducted the Saturday rehearsal, my understanding was 2-ISH. My daughter is worse than I am about taking liberties with Ish time frames, so she d...