Spamalot

A few of the higher-ups at my place of employment did an adorable thing; they organized a night at the theater for all employees at a significantly discounted price.  How very classy indeed.  Just like that, little ol’ Liz found herself heading, with co-workers young and old, off to glamorous Times Square to attend this Spamalot that people have been raving about forever and have paid a pretty penny to see.

When we arrived, my buddies and I were crammed through a small doorway, and I felt particularly important as the usher accepted my hard-earned ticket to the event of the season.  We shuffled along and were directed up the stairs, for our seats were located up yonder in the balcony.  “Ah, the balcony,” I thought, “how very nice.”  Once there, another usher looked at our tickets and said “Nope, keep going, second balcony.”  I didn’t know that second balconies existed, but this did in no way dispel my accumulating excitement as we filed proudly on.              

My God was it steep up in there!  The second we came through the entrance and looked down towards the stage I felt the need to grab onto something for support.  We stood as if on the peak of a harrowing mountain climb and my buddy exclaimed “Oh man, we’re in the nose bleeds!”  I’d like to admit to you here folks that never before had I fully understood this oft used, and I must say delightfully hilarious phrase.  For when she said this little line, I thought to myself “Now, why would she say that?  The thought of such ruffian behavior at the theater, absurd!”  You see, for some reason I had always thought that ‘the nosebleeds’ referred to the fact that the seats you had obtained were so shitty that a rowdy fight was bound to break out at any moment, the impact of which may cause your nose to bleed.  Never before had I known that this phrase was meant to be an inference as to the quality of the air in a particular section.  I guess it’s just one of those things, an idiom if you will, that you learn not through logical deduction, but rather societal interaction.  Learning is good.    

Oh right, the play.  I had come in with a relatively well-informed understanding of the comedic styles and film collection of the Monty Python crew, in particular the film on which this production was to be based.  However, one of my co-workers was armed with not a drop of Monty Python knowledge or viewing history, so together I feel we adequately represented the “general audience.” What proceeded was mainly a lot of quiet chuckling on my part as I recognized all the old lines, and many confused glances from my poor little friend.  Spamalot proved to be in large part a mashing together of all the beloved lines and jokes, somewhat pleasing to an old time fan, but rather ineffective and out of context for the newcomers.  While we both couldn’t help but be entertained by the general wackiness of the production, and the fine performances from the actors, as a whole this musical ain’t no Cats.  The next day in the office I was to learn that most all of my fellow theatre goers shared a similar opinion, that we were entertained, but not to a point that would cause our pants to come off.  Oh, and the sets were kick-ass.