Critics, I know, have it easy: my main expense in life would be theatre tickets, but those come free (and usually in the best seats in the house; or, when they don’t turn out to be that way and I couldn’t actually see over the head of the person in front of me, as happened last week with Glengarry Glen Ross, I simply asked if I could go again, and they were only happy to accommodate me, which I duly did yesterday). Even when I go abroad, I can usually get free tickets if I can plan in advance: I didn’t pay for any of the five shows I saw last month in Las Vegas, and am off to New York today with the prospect of seeing nine shows between tonight and next Wednesday’s matinee, few of which I will actually pay for.
Sorry, I’m not trying to be smug – I’m just supremely grateful. [click below to continue reading]
But sometimes I am more than happy to pay. I came home from last night’s opening of War Horse at the National, for instance, and immediately went online and booked six more tickets so I could go again and take my partner, parents, and brother and his wife. It’s already a tough ticket, but after the reviews come in, I am sure it will go clean.
Ditto, last week, with the Royal Court’s production of The Ugly One in the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs that ended its run on Saturday. I missed the opening, and although the Royal Court are always happy to accommodate critics later in the run, by the time it was completely sold out there was no need for them to do so. But I was, at least, able to lean on the Court’s ever-helpful press officer to help me buy a ticket. And I wasn’t the only one who had left it to the last minute: the Evening Standard’s chief arts correspondence Louise Jury was at the matinee with me, also having arranged to buy a ticket.
I suppose we jumped the returns queue, which was another privilege of office; but at least the fact that we were both happy to put our (personal) money where our mouths are proves that this is more than just a job. And we never take it for granted, either, how lucky we both are.
