Sweet Fanny Madam (or Butt the Show was Excellent)

Photo from the official
Red website.

We were privileged to see Red at the John Golden Theatre on Broadway the other night. It's an intriguing look at Rothko's work as he painted (and thought) about his commissioned work for the Four Seasons in NYC's (at the time) newly constructed Seagram's Building. It appealed to the former studio art student in me and made me pine for the days when I smelled of turpentine, was covered in gesso and would spend hours in front of a canvas wondering what was living underneath the white that I could reveal through layers of acrylic.

But the 11 o'clock number of this not-a-musical was moments after the performance.

Molina and Redmayne had made their bows and were no off stage, the house lights were warming and people were standing (either because they had been during their ovation or because they were ready to leave... or both). I was turned to my right, talking to Ren, Patty and Trevor about the show ("D'you like it? What'd you think?") when a very light tap tap happened on my back. I turned to find a very small, elderly woman with intensely thick glasses staring up at me. She had been seated next to me the whole show and had stayed quiet and focused. She only moved a few times and that was to draw out her binoculars so that she could zoom in on the performances.

But now she was focused on me. "You're very tall." Odd, I thought, surely I didn't disrupt her ability to see the show... sitting next to her and all. "I'm sorry," I said, offering an apology for something I wasn't sure I caused. "No no, it's fine," she replied, "It's just that your fanny was right there... right there in my face when I was getting up from my seat."

Gasp! Had I backed up into this poor, frail woman and offended her?? "I am so sorry!"

"No no, it's fine," she said again. "I'm not complaining. I just didn't expect it. But it's fine. You're just so tall and your fanny was just right there in my face." She smiled. Did she like this uncomfortable moment that we were having? Was she relishing in the fact that my rear was, likely, super-sized through her Coke-bottle lenses?

"Ok," was all I could mutter. I turned to my party, bug-eyed, and flipped my hands, shooing them out of the row and onto the street so that I could reveal this bizarro encounter. Being awkwardly hit on my little old ladies is best left to the Max Bialystocks of the world.

P.S. Go see Red. It's a limited run (closing June 27th) but well worth the time and money. Now shoo!