At a recent performance of “Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812,” the new musical hit in a carnival tent next to the Standard High Line, a nasty altercation between two patrons provided a new wrinkle into the dangers of creating an environment in which the audience is an integral part of the experience. The space, fitted out to be a luxuriant café in 1812 Tsarist Russia with the audience packed into its tables and banquettes, provided much of the playing area for the large cast of actors.
At a key moment in the second act, many in the audience became acutely aware of a young brunette angrily making her way directly through the middle of the restaurant. Was she a new member of the cast about to break into song, even though her dress didn’t exactly fit the rest of the retro-modern style? Well, no. She was a patron who’d just slapped the man sitting on the banquette next to her after he, in a fit of pique, had grabbed her phone and thrown it several yards, presumably damaging it. The man in question was Kevin Williamson, a writer for the National Review, who in a report the following day explained the situation. It seems the victim of his considerable ire had insisted on texting throughout the performance, even after she’d been repeatedly warned by both Williamson and the management to stop. When the writer pointed out to her that the cast’s pre-show announcements had included a stern warnings not to use electronic devices, she told him to mind his own business. “So I minded my own business by utilizing my famous feline agility to deftly snatch the phone out of her hand and toss it across the room, where it would do no more damage,” he wrote. That in turn prompted the slap and the long and stormy cross by the woman from the far end of the room to the entrance doors, which she banged open much to the consternation of the management.
All this at a quiet and tender moment in the play, loosely adapted from Leo Tolstoy’s “War and Peace,” when actress Brittain Ashford, as Sonya, was about to launch into a plaintive paean to save her cousin Sonya from ruin at the hands of the roué, Anatole. Management then summoned Williamson to the lobby via a less interruptive route, where charges and countercharges were hurled. There was talk of criminal legal action. What led to the sudden cameo is a plague in the theater these days, a nuisance at any time but particularly acute and noticeable at an immersive theatrical experience like “Natasha.” The danger is also increased because everyone is at such close quarters and the vodka is flowing. (Dinner is also served.) Naturally, the theatrical chat rooms lit up with commentary mostly in praise of Williamson’s actions, although a number also suggested that he enroll in anger management classes. Meanwhile the cast continued with the performance without missing a beat and received a well-deserved ovation at the end, especially Ashford playing the hapless Sonya.
Image: Chad Batka