Going to the theater? Don’t be late. Turn off your phone. And shut up. Please.
You have just spent a chunk of your life savings on tickets to “Les Miserables” at the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts.
The curtain rises at 8:02 p.m. as you nestle into your prime seat, ready to be transported to a 19th century French town and swept into a revolutionary fervor when the cast belts out “Do You Hear the People Sing?”
Suddenly, a stranger is climbing over your knees, her enhanced buttocks in your face. Her friend stumbles by next, stepping on your toes. They are late to the show but seem shocked that it has started without them.
The latecomers keep coming well into the first act, traipsing down the aisle and loudly debating their seat location as they block the view of the stage.
Cellphones ring, ping, click and beam blinding light through the dark theater. A chorus of whispering and shushing competes with the actors’ dialogue. Crackling, crunching and chewing noises suck all the pathos out of poor Fantine’s death scene.
You’re no longer in 1832 France but in 2019 Miami, home of the world’s rudest audiences.
“These are self-centered people who mar the beauty of the performance, and we are sick of it,” said Roger Shatanof, an Arsht subscriber since the venue opened. He and his wife paid $95 each for tickets to the Broadway musical “Les Mis.”
“A stream of people kept entering until 8:25 p.m., talking at high volume, pushing, carrying their lit-up phones. I asked an usher why and she said, ‘We can’t control them,’” Shatanof said. “We’ve paid $130 for Cleveland Orchestra tickets. It’s very expensive and you expect a perfect evening. You pay to see talented, highly trained artists and then you ignore their fine efforts and deprive the rest of the audience of a special experience? It’s shameful. It’s disrespectful.”
Whether it’s a play or concert, the disruptions inevitably echo through the hall just when Romeo kisses Juliet, or the ballerina pirouettes, or the pianist strokes the sublime notes of a Chopin nocturne. The moment is lost.
The movie theater is more like a sports bar these days. Pay $12 to see the latest thriller at the multiplex and you can expect to hear long phone conversations and running commentary.
“He’s got a knife!” says the observant guy behind you.
“I knew it,” says the astute cineaste in front of you. “She’s a double agent!”
In Miami, punctuality is purely optional, like using your car’s turn signal. That “I-am-the-only-person-on-this-planet” attitude leads to waves of late arrivals at most events. There’s also the Miami Time rationale: Everybody is late and nothing starts on time. It’s humid and we move at a languid pace here.
But that mindset isn’t tolerated in New York, Chicago or London, all cities with that “world-class” status Miami perpetually yearns to achieve. When the show starts, the doors are closed and no one is sauntering in until intermission or a break in the program. It’s standard audience etiquette.
Robert Ard, an avid fan of the arts and a volunteer usher at the Arsht Center, said about 25 percent of the ticket holders for the Tier 4 section he was attending were late for a recent “Les Mis” performance.
“That’s 135 people,” he said. “Depending on the show, we let them in after a five-minute hold, a 10-minute hold, a particular song or intermission. It’s not too bad when you have 10 people to escort, but when you have dozens, it’s tough. It’s like a subway train unloads and everyone is flooding the station. Latecomers disturb everyone. It’s a major kerfuffle all the time.
“I’ve seen five shows in London. You sit down before curtain time, be quiet and boom, that’s it.”
The Miami crowd is tardy despite pre-show emails about late-seating policies, signs and announcements in the venues, flashing lights, warning bells. Maybe ushers should be armed with cattle prods.
“We stand in front of the door and say ‘We can’t let you in for 12 minutes,’” Ard said. “People who obviously just arrived claim they were in already but ‘I have cancer and had to go to the bathroom.’ Or they complain ‘I can’t believe you close the doors when this is Miami and the traffic is horrible.’ Or there’s a Heat game going on. Or they say, ‘I paid $125 so I’m going in,’ and they’ll barge right by you. The best is, ‘Do you know who I am?’ It’s a never-ending song of excuses. Others will sneak in at unattended doors.”
Ard calls it the entitlement mentality.
“They think, ‘I’m allowed to be late,’” he said. “’I’m more important than the performer on stage who worked 20 years to play this part.’ And, ‘My Facebook response is more important than consideration for the person sitting next to me.’ It’s the same thing we see in Miami driving: ‘I’m better than you so I’m going to cut you off because I need to move over to that lane immediately.’
“During curtain calls, the actors are looking at the backs of audience members rushing out to beat the traffic. The singer is pouring her heart into a tune that will make you cry and the audience is clicking away on Instagram. I once had a lady near the front eating matzo crackers wrapped in cellophane and when I asked her to stop she just glared at me. You know you cannot eat Doritos quietly, so don’t try. But they don’t care.”
Some organizations have surrendered to patrons’ addictive need to have electronic messages activating their neurons 24/7. They have designated “Tweet Seats” in the back where people are allowed to use their phones. The Palm Beach Opera has experimented by encouraging Tweets of dress rehearsals by people who are active on social media. Part of the New World Symphony’s mission is to cultivate a younger audience with a wide spectrum of performances, including its Pulse programs that feature a DJ and orchestra.
“We offer opportunities for people to share the performance and take photos,” said Craig Hall, vice president of communications at NWS. Conductor “Michael Tilson Thomas has brought his vision of engaging with audiences by using technology not as an impediment but as a way to enhance the experience.”
Hall first began working at various South Florida venues such as the Jackie Gleason Theater, the Kravis Center and the Broward Center for the Performing Arts 20 years ago. He said he’s observed an improvement in audience behavior.
“Miami has had a reputation for late and loud, but I’ve seen an evolution,” he said. “People are more aware that a theater or concert hall is a sacred space where you immerse yourself in the music or art form without distractions.”
But Hall has stopped going to local movie theaters.
“Too difficult because of the phones,” he said.
Theater regulars Ard and Shatanof have suggestions for breaking the bad habits of latecomers — and of those who treat musicals like singalongs or munch on pastrami sandwiches.
“Audience school to train people,” Shatanof said. “Strict enforcement. Don’t open the doors if they’re late. Kick out the disruptive ones.”
Ken Harris, Arsht Center executive director and vice president of operations, said the venue is always looking for ways to deal with latecomers.
“Arriving to shows on time is a challenge that exists in all cities. The Arsht Center encourages guests to arrive early for their own peace of mind and so that they can fully enjoy the experience from beginning to end,” he said. ”We do our best to ensure each of our guests has a positive experience, regardless of what time they are able to arrive.”
Ard suggests leaving upper back rows open as a sort of holding pen for latecomers at shows that are not sold out.
Ard said the Broadway show crowds — which are “the most obnoxious” — could learn something from the Harry Potter movie crowds — “the most attentive and appreciative.”
“Opera crowds are very polite, proper and respectful,” he said. “Flamenco dance crowds, I don’t know why, but they are very contentious and wound up. Flamenco people are angry.”
This story was originally published February 22, 2019 at 7:00 AM.
