The National Theatre of Washington DC

THE “HIGH COST” OF THEATRE TICKETS
by Donn B. Murphy

It is often argued that theatre tickets are expensive, and they seem to get more expensive with each passing year. Why is that?

If you ask almost anyone, "What was the first Broadway show you ever saw?" you will usually get an immediate answer. I am no exception. I am dating myself, but I saw my first live theatre production in 1945. The show was WINGED VICTORY, a World War II musical about the Army Air Force. I sat in the very last row of the balcony of the Music Hall in Kansas City, Missouri, and the ticket cost 75 cents. Orchestra seats were about $4.50. The performance was unforgettable and is still clear in my mind (I can hum the music). The evening was worth every penny of the 75 cents, and I suspect that many people would agree that whatever they paid to see "their first show," it was worth it for the enduring memory and pleasure it gave them.

But why do tickets cost what they do today? Well, for you out front in the audience, a show should seem effortless and magical. And it takes a great deal of costly effort to achieve that “stage magic.”

First, a particular example from the musical CATS. People remember the show as having about 20 performers, each wearing one Cat costume: about 20 costumes in all. Granted, each leotard represents a different Cat, and must be dyed, hand painted, accented with fake fur, and accessorized with a wig and make-up. But how much can that cost? Let's see.

The dancing in the show is athletic and continuous. Actors’ Equity, the union for actors, sensibly stipulates that any costume worn directly against the skin - like the leotards in this show - may be worn for only one performance and then must be laundered. This rule makes perfect sense: no one can perform high-energy dance and acrobatics for two hours - while singing - without perspiring. To accommodate five performances between Friday evening and Sunday night, three sets of costumes are on hand. With one weekend laundering, a clean wardrobe will be ready for every show. This raises the number of costumes needed from 20 to 60.

It is easy to forget that the Cats don pirate costumes over their leotards in one number and cockroach costumes (with wings which can be opened with the pull of a cord) in another. Some of the costumes are rigged with batteries to make the eyes light up. On top of this, understudies and swings must be considered (and paid to be standing by), to cover illnesses, injuries and vacations, and since actors come in different sizes, there must be some costumes available to fit performers who happen to be significantly larger or smaller than the actors they understudy. Because the Cats slide, roll and tumble on the stage, costume cleaning, repairs and replacements are constant, and several wardrobe personnel work backstage almost daily.

In addition to the Cats seen on the stage, four Chorus Cats - alto, soprano, tenor and bass - are backstage on microphones watching the conductor closely via television, to provide steady on-beat support and back-up for the performers onstage, who must sing while moving and dancing. And, of course, in addition to the cast and stand-bys, the production cannot go on without scenery shifters, property managers, lighting and sound technicians, spot-light operators, wardrobe and wig people, and the theatre management staff and ushers.

Each Cat wears a wireless mike with a battery pack hidden within the costume in the small of the back. To ensure perfect performance, fresh batteries are installed and tested prior to each performance. At two batteries per Cat for eight performances, this adds up to some 320 batteries per week. Costs are mounting.

Elaborately costumed shows like 42ND STREET, may carry as many as 500 costumes. These can include beaded gowns and glittering tuxedos, with top hats and feathered headdresses - with matching shoes and wigs and jewelry - which can run into several thousands of dollars per ensemble. The wardrobe must be exceptionally well-sewn and durable. A woman in the audience may wear a delicate evening dress which she enjoys for a pleasant evening of dinner and dancing several times each year. A similar gossamer dress onstage is worn repeatedly - eight times a week - and often for strenuous dancing which makes cleaning, mending and replacement an ongoing necessity.

Shows like LES MISERABLES with full-stage turntables and other extraordinarily heavy pieces of scenery, like the ornate gold false proscenium in PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, present another expensive challenge. Cloth scenery drops, curtains and curtain tracks, lighting and sound equipment, flat scenery and platforms can be disassembled late into the night after the final Sunday performance, trucked to another city, and reassembled for the next performance on Tuesday evening. The show must go on without interruption when a large company is on the payroll.

However the turntables and stage “decks” - false floors rigged with motors and cables which make furniture and pieces of scenery glide smoothly onstage and off - and other extraordinarily large or complex scenic pieces - cannot be transported from one theatre to another and installed so quickly. Therefore, these heavier pieces are built in duplicate. When LES MISERABLES closes in one city, the lighting and “soft goods” are moved and hung for the next engagement in a theatre where a second turntable has already been installed and tested during the preceding week. It will take several more days to disassemble the first turntable, and its sections will then be stored in large leased tractor trailers parked in a secure area awaiting their next use. Thus the show “leap-frogs” from “Turntable A” to “Turntable B” so that performances can proceed uninterrupted.

When a show arrives at the National Theatre it finds not a single stage drapery, dimmer board, spot light, microphone or loudspeaker onstage or in the auditorium. We are like an unfurnished apartment - and that is just the way the traveling troupe wants it to be. The technical demands of each production are so unique and complex that the stagehands do not have the time to adapt to any equipment which might be in one theatre and not in the next. Instead they bring every single piece of technical gear which will be necessary to install the show in every city exactly as it was originally designed, equipped and created. Every light is hung in the exact relative position on each stage, and operated by pre-set computerized cues. Some of the “moving smart lights” used today have more than a dozen vectors for each cue - color, spread, sharp or soft focus, vertical position, horizontal position, pattern, etc. - and each vector of each light must be programmed for every cue - and there can be hundreds of lighting instruments and hundreds of cues in a show.

If you have read this far, I will suggest another element which comes into play. It was pointed out in a very perceptive article in The New Yorker magazine in 2003, that costs in manufacturing sectors of our economy decline (relatively) over time, while costs in personal services increase more than the overall inflation rate. Improvements and innovations in design, materials and production methods continually reduce the cost of producing manufactured goods. Computers which cost $5,000 five years ago are now available for $1,000. ,

Similar reductions are not possible in service industries like education, health care and live entertainment, where costs continue to escalate. Why? Well, one doctor can treat only so many patients; one teacher can teach only so many students; and one actor can give only eight performances each week for a finite number of spectators. None of this face-to-face hands-on work can be outsourced or performed successfully by fewer individuals with cheaper materials.

Once a motion picture is “in the can” the actors move on to another profitable job, the scenery is dismantled and the technicians are sent home. Then the film produces income in movie houses, on television and through DVD sales in this country and abroad for years and decades to come, recouping its investment many, many times over. However, the personnel costs - onstage and off - for a stage production continue unabated from the first until the final performance - and at that point, the income ceases.

Musicals which play the National must sell as much as $400,000 (more or less, depending on the show) in tickets each week to pay ongoing running expenses and break even -- before any profits are realized by the touring company or the theatre. Most productions can easily sell Friday and Saturday Night Orchestra tickets, but unless a sufficient number of Balcony tickets, and Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Sunday Night and Matinee tickets sell each week, the show can begin hemorrhaging large sums of money very quickly. We lost $700,000 in six weeks some years ago, and it is not easy to make up that amount of money. Bottom line: Is it worth it?

Nothing can replace the thrilling, immediate, person-to-person experience of seeing theatre onstage with live performers. You are personally present to experience the passions, talent and emotions of the actors. You enjoy the experience listening, laughing, applauding and perhaps even shedding a few tears, as part of an audience community. No performance is exactly the same, and each is a “hand-made” experience. When all the elements come together - actors and dancers, musicians, script, scenery, costumes and lighting - you can have a unique and incomparable experience which will live in your memory forever. That is a priceless experience on which you cannot a price tag.