Alice in Wonderland

This Friday, my roommate and I had the opportunity to attend the ballet, Alice in Wonderland, put on at BYU. We were very excited to see it, because we both love ballets.

The house opened 30 minutes before the show, and we arrived 15 minutes early so we could enjoy the atmosphere and peruse the program before the show started. (Useful, because after reading the scene-by-scene descriptions, I was merely mildly confused by the dizzying strangeness that is Alice in Wonderland)

The lights dimmed, introductions were made, and the show began. I was swept off into a fantastical world full of imagination and vivid colors. I was no longer in Provo, Utah. I was in Wonderland, off on an adventure.

Just as I began to truly feel for Alice, crying and despairing at her situation, my illusion was shattered. I was unwittingly dragged back to reality by a harsh, gaping hole of light that appeared at my peripheral vision. One of the auditorium doors had been opened, admitting a large group of latecomers into the show.

They stood in the doorway, oozing light into the auditorium, while they attempted to find their seats. They climbed over a dozen people before they found their seats in the middle of their row. Try as I might, I was unable to focus on the dancers again until they were settled. I, and many others, missed almost an entire scene of the ballet because of this, and several other, intrusions.

These people might have had a very good reason for being late. Or, they may have simply not given themselves enough time to get there. Whatever the case, one thing they, and the ushers, failed to take into account, was everyone else already in the theater. Not just the audience members, like myself, but the performers.

Live entertainment media is very prone to distraction. It is so enjoyable, and very engaging to be a part of something as it is being created. The dancers on that stage put hours and hours of practice into this final production. The stage crew practiced until they got all of the scene changes fluid and barely noticeable. The hair, makeup, and costume designers put so much effort into making believable characters that would pull the audience in. The choreographers spent countless hours agonizing over what steps would best convey the story. Dozens of people invested themselves in creating this beautiful illusion. And it worked.

Until all of their hard work was negated by a group of 5 or 6 people who showed up 20 minutes late, shattering that illusion for all of the other audience members, for whom the illusion was created.

Now, I am not necessarily blaming this group of people. Nor am I blaming the ushers who let them in (although, maybe I am a bit on that one - that is poor etiquette on the part of the ushers. They should know better)

I am, however, despairing at the lack of consideration toward the performers. This group of people put no thought into anyone else in that auditorium when they stepped in. They did not consider everyone else who made the effort (like my roommate and myself) to be early so they would not risk missing any of the performance. They did not consider the family member of one of the performers who had been anxiously waiting to see their daughter perform for months. They did not consider the dancer on stage who could see that light just as well as I could in the audience. They didn't consider any of these things.

As we live in a world where the majority of media is able to be consumed at any time and in any place, I hope that we can appreciate the types of media that cannot be viewed at any time or in any place. I hope that we can give greater consideration to those performers who are creating something just for us to enjoy, and make an effort to respect them and their art, as much as they respect us as an audience.