Lesson #5: No pre-show music.
Lesson #6: Also no pre-show announcement. A simple sound cue of a cellphone ringing will suffice. (Note the especially enjoyable payoff of "PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES" as part of the super titles in Hamlet @ Shaubühne, but it wasn't up there at the top of the show. They displayed it at the point when the actors were performing the play-within-the-play. Ah comedy.)
Lesson #7: Weather in the theatre does not appear to be in the kind of extremes we seem to experience in the U.S. So bring a jacket for the walk home (even in summer) (furthermore, if you don't want to carry a jacket, then stop at a restaurant on the way home-- everyone provides blankets, usually of an IKEA fashion, for their customers while they sit and enjoy a post show currywurst and bier; it's greatly appreciated), but you'll be fine during the show since temperatures will be civilized and pleasant.
Lesson #8: Wear your seatbelt. In this first week alone I have seen the absolute best and absolute worst theatre of my life. Truly. The extraordinary passion and focused commitment and joyful risk and talented artistry and exceptional variety going on here are of a caliber that, frankly, I've always hoped existed but never really believed was possibly contained all in one city. Granted, the Elektra we saw tonight was practically an inexpiable crime, but we still got a great deal of entertainment from it and it was wildly different than the theatre I am used to, so I learned just a bit more about my chosen profession and it's possibilities and failures. Plus, a majority of our last five shows have been breathtaking and heartbreaking and awe-inspiring. Especially Hamlet. We could see nothing but crap-theatre for the next two weeks (although I KNOW we won't) and I would return to the states a delighted person because I got to see this magnificent Ostermeier production. I mean it. It changed me forever. It was the show that I sit down hoping to see every time I go to the theatre. It was my personal holy grail of shows. Alright I'll admit that it didn't have The Spanish Fly's midget ceaselessly attempting to jump up on top of a roll of the pushed-up stage-sized magic carpet, then slowly sliding down into an emotionless heap at the bottom... thank goodness it was a farce because we went past the point of uncontrollable laughter to the land of embarrassing gasping noises and squeals... I can barely type this I'm still laughing so hard at this joke that could have gone on for hours and still have gotten funnier and funnier... this delightful little person had a wig as high as her entire body was tall-- her wig went up to the same height the other women's wigs did... Oh comedy... Oh comedy... Yes. Back to Hamlet. Okay. I've never been so overwhelmed by such a sensitive yet unapologetic performance, by the thorough immediacy of an entire show, by the unparalleled ability of a director and his lead actor to be both so in tune with their audience, by storytelling so adeptly to walk the line between perfect oration and perfect improvisation; it was raw and dangerous and hilarious and clear and moving. What a gift theatre can be.
Lesson #9: Seriously. Wear your seatbelt. This was only the first week...
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