Matinees in the light of day

We had our first matinee yesterday. We faded lights to black and... it wasn't black at all. Daylight streamed cheerfully through windows along the whole right side of the wall, out from under the heavy black stage curtains.

It cut the show's energy in half. You could never really enter the spell... or, worse, in Seattle, forget that it was one of those rare beautiful days outside. Instead you kept subliminally wondering why you were sitting in this small dark theatre, instead of out in that sun.

We have an incredible fountain, in the middle of Seattle Center. It's a huge sunken globe, at the bottom of a smooth-sided amphitheatre bowl. Water-jets shoot from all over the fountain, making patterns, or shooting hundreds of feet in the air. Music plays. Some of the fountain patterns are choreographed to the songs. It's a central point for families, with children screaming in the spray, and parents resting on wide cement ledges around the top. The fountain is encircled by green lawns, rimmed by the cultural buildings -- the theatres, the ballet, the opera, the sports arena. On sunny days, from the theatre you can hear the children squealing.


Seattle Center fountain

It is an axiom in Seattle to never mount a play in August. August is our one guaranteed month of sun, and people stay away from the theatre in droves.

Ben, our set-designer, says aluminum foil is the solution. "It's what day-sleepers use," he said. "People who work at night and need to sleep during the day." I think we'll be foiling our windows today.