Last night, we did something completely different: several generations of family went to a live magic show, at the Wagsters Magic Theatre in Williamsburg, VA. It was more a Vegas style show than a birthday party magician kind of show. But it's a much smaller space, with 126 seats, than most spaces in Vegas (I assume, having never researched the size of theatres in Vegas).
It was a sold out show, and the audience was more engaged than almost any audience I've seen, outside of my congregation where I'm the minister. We may have been the only audience members who came without small children (the youngest members of our group are 18 years old). Every child in my vicinity (I had a seat in the middle of the back row) leaned forward, had gasps of surprise and delight, and the one in front of us said "Wow" every so often.
It was great to be in a room of people who put their phones away and watched the stage. Because of the small size of the theatre, though, it felt much more interactive--as the performing duo, Brandon and Hannah Wagster prepped the audience to be at the start of the show.
The energy level of the duo and their attention to detail kept me awake, which is saying something these days. My spouse has studied/watched magic shows for many more years than I have, and he was impressed by their skill in illusion. It was a great way to spend an evening--much easier than trying to find a movie we would all enjoy. And it was wonderful to support local, live performances.
The theatre is part of a newer shopping development, an outparcel of shops and restaurants. My spouse and I have done theatre work in college, both onstage and as part of tech crews, and we were impressed by the lights and the sound, by the way they took a retail space and transformed it into a small theatre.
For a brief moment, I felt overwhelmed by nostalgia and grief, thinking of the small, local theatres in south Florida that have all gone away as their founders moved out of the area or real estate developers swooped in. I saw some of the best performances of plays I ever expect to see at the small Sol Theatre in Ft. Lauderdale. It seated about 60, and last night's venue felt similar.
Happily, the show started, and my nostalgia melted away into gratitude that people are still following their performing arts dreams--and that audiences are still willing to seek out this more specialized kind of live performance.
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