Big Time

Today I took advantage of an offer to see a play workshop with another unemployed friend. The team putting on the event had a recent Broadway hit with Xanadu. Many of the writers, musicians, and actors from that production are working on this piece, called Big Time.

The workshop was organized to attract investors. Essentially, the producers of the play, knowing that people have a deep-seated desire to mingle with celebrities, offer an opportunity for wealthy people to pay to meet celebrities without appearing to do so.

It is an interesting farce. Broadway plays are notoriously bad investments. They have about a 33% chance of making a return, and that return tends to be modest.

Although this workshop was intended for possible investors, there were many theater insiders in attendance. The men seated in front of me were fit like dancers and very attractive, and I assumed they are actors.

This was confirmed when a heavy-set man in a red shirt walked over to introduce himself to one of the men, who was an actor in The Rocky Horror Picture Show on Broadway. The dentist explained that he recognized the actor from a cast photo that hung on his office wall. One of his patients was a fellow cast member. The dentist was sycophantic, and I felt embarrassed for him.

New York is studded with celebrities. Non-celebrities are expected to pretend that they do not recognize the celebrities.

Yet, the cool, non-celebrity New Yorker will relay to anyone who will listen that they saw so-and-so at dinner, walking down the street, or at a party. Each time the story is told, they will emphasize that they didn't approach the celebrity. Strangers who try to talk to celebrities are regarded as uncouth tourists who resemble star-struck, fainting tweens.

Shortly before the show began, a woman moved down my row to take the empty seat beside me. As she passed my companion, he said her name and she nodded.

She is pretty but not by Hollywood standards. She appeared to be in her mid-40s. Her curly hair was untamed and she wore scruffy flipflops. These attributes are not damning, but in a world in which the notion that a woman peaks in her early 20s has taken hold, I would not have expected her to be a famous actress.

The lights went down and the score began. I didn't know who the woman was, but I could sense a lot of attention directed her way. When I looked around, many eyes were on her.

As I watched the actors on stage, I thought about how theater actors and actresses differ from those who do television and film. The stage performers tend to have greater talent and are allowed physical imperfections. For example, middle-aged actresses continue to perform lead roles.

The stage performers more closely reflect the population as a whole. There are beautiful people, but there are far more character actors than in films. Plays are more likely to depict the stories of blue-collar workers, the middle class, and the poor than films.

Big Time featured people tangential to a G8 summit: the entertainers on a cruise ship, a CIA agent, a UN employee, and terrorists from a small, fictional country. It has a silly plot, but it made an interesting parallel between terrorists and bitter critics who attack art work while harboring jealousy toward artists. It also emphasized how anyone, regardless of talent, can gain joy by participating in the arts. The play is both brilliant and hilarious.

During intermission, my friend informed me that the woman seated by me was Jule White. She won a Tony for "The Little Dog Laughed" and had a role on "Six Feet Under." I had seen neither of these shows.

It occurred to me that I recognize few celebrities, probably because I don't watch television, rarely see mainstream films, and can afford to see few plays each year. Celebrities must be all around me, yet I am unaware of their presence.

It is ironic that the people genuinely giving the celebrity anonymity in private circumstances are the very people who subtly damage the celebrity's career by witholding attention to their public works.

In light of this fact and the message of the play, it appears that New Yorkers are doing celebrities a disservice by ignoring them. Trying to gain status by mingling with a celebrity is still uncool. But snubbing the celebrity is similar to assuming the role of the bitter critic. Informing an artist that you like their work, with just a smile or thumbs up, must be appreciated by even the most prominent celebrity.