Today, I almost, almost, asked the Oz Boutique assistant how she got her job. The words were on the tip of my tongue and I was about to be outed as a dire, dire, tragique. Then, out of nowhere, common sense (I don't know whose, but thank-you nonetheless) came flying out and wonked me over the head - duh, she probably works for the Regent Theatre and is therefore not actually affiliated with the production. Then I almost, almost, asked her how I'd go about getting a job at the Regent.
Suffice to say, I made a hasty exit as the atmosphere of the place is obviously damaging to my mental capacity. Only I wound up wandering blindly up Flinders Lane with no intention of seeking autographs or photos at stage door. You know how you get someplace and you don't actually want to be there, but there are people who are watching you and so you don't leave just because you don't want them to watch you leaving approximately ten seconds after you arrive? No? That's just me? Alrighty then...
It was something very much akin to embarrassment that sealed the deal and resulted in my depature. I was actually going to follow Lucy down the street but it seemed a bit creepy, what with the people standing around to witness me stalking after her, including Madame Morrible, and she's just effin' scary. Lesson of the day: be prepared to actually want something from the actors if you're going to skulk around stage door with the pubescents.
And finally...front row seating is quite awesome in that you can see practically everything, including everything on the actors' faces, but it does have some downfalls:
- you may be distracted because you can see practically everything and then it becomes a game as to what you can see - where are their microphones? What is that on their foreheads? Is it their microphones? Why does Glinda get to wear pink underwear to match her pink dress while everyone else just has to make do with plain old black, no matter what colour their costume is?
- no one tells you that you're in prime position for dry smoke inhalation
- no one tells you that the ensemble is going to hurl bits of streamer at you
- you will not be able to see the big dragon overhead without craning your neck
- you will also not be able to see the two flying monkeys who spaz out above the A reserve seats
- you will invariably find yourself watching the conductor at work instead of what's onstage
- you will also invariably find yourself craning to peer within the wings when you catch a glimpse of actors waiting for their cue, and this will somewhat ruin it for you
- you may strain your eyes looking for Elphaba's curtain-platform during Defying Gravity. Then you will miss half the song trying to ignore the obvious stage mechanisms of the entire affair
- actors will look directly at you. Multiple times. And it is unnerving to have "Kill the Witch!" screamed at you from two metres away
- you may be seated next to two cougars who think it's alright to wonder aloud if Millsy is too young to sex up during the show. You'll then be subjected to their catcalls for him at curtain call. This last point may apply even if you're not seated front row
Of course, nothing here will deter me from trying to reach my goal number of viewings before the show closes its Melbourne season. What can I say? "I'm beautifully tragic!"
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