Le Scandal....Amazing!

I went with my bachelor party, a group of 15. We heard great things about the show, and I guess a lot of other people have too cause there was a huge line waiting to get it. The show ran about 20 minutes late, but the producer told me the show time is changing in May to 10PM, to remedy the problem with the club.
The line up of performers was really impressive, and we all thought it was a lot for the buck.
Sword swallower, aerialist, sexy singer, burlesque, contortionist, escape artist, a live band, and Free Nipple Tassles!
The bachelor was called on stage and given a "gift" by an adorable burlesque dancer.
Overall, I thought the show was great.
And we were given a lot of special attention, which made it really nice for a party.


Posted by: Edward Sadaka
On: 5/9/2008 6:02:00 AM

Miserable

We went to this bar-cum-cabaret to see a show called “Le Scandal Burlesque.” This was billed as a proper theater event; we’d bought tickets for it online that said it began at 11:00. We got there at 10:30 so we could get good seats. Bad idea. When we got there, there was a bouncer outside checking everybody’s ID. As we reached the door, it was clear that this was not a theater or even a “night club,” whatever that means these days, but rather just a plain old bar with music. It was dark and crowded enough that we could barely see into it, but we couldn’t see a stage.

I went back to the bouncer. “We’re here to see a show called ‘Scandal Burlesque,’ I told him.

“Right,” he said. “Goes on at midnight.”

Uh-oh. “Midnight?” I said. “It’s supposed to be at eleven.”

“Oh,” he said. “Whatever.”

NOT a good sign. But it got worse. We walked straight back to the end of the bar, just to see what was what. Sure enough, there was another pair of closed doors, with a sort of podium beside one of them, and a young woman behind it. This area was already fairly crowded, and at least four people were speaking to her at once. She found this so distracting that she would interrupt herself, or me, while either of us was talking, to answer another question from somewhere else. It was also so loud in the bar that all conversation was difficult anyway. After several minutes, I finally got it across that we were here to see this show, pick up our tickets, get some drinks, and sit down.

“OK,” she said, “you’re all set. There’s another show going on in there now, and they might not start exactly at 11:00. They might be a few minutes late. So why don’t you grab yourselves something to drink, have a seat, and wait.”

I asked why the doors weren’t open already. “There’s another show going on in there now,” she answered. We never did learn what sort of show it was, or what accounted for its ending so late. “It’s really a night club, not a theater,” the woman said. This made no sense. When I think of a night club, I think of a place where -- unlike a theater -- you can go and sit down even if the show hasn’t begun.

But there was already no chance of a seat. We figured we’d do best to stand near the door so we could be among the first ones in. I got us a couple of drinks. But it soon became so crowded that we couldn’t have moved if our lives had depended on it. It was the kind of crowding where there’s always somebody’s body pressed right up against you. And on top of this, the doors to the theater portion of the place kept opening, with people (clearly not audience people) going in and out, and back and forth through the crowd, constantly. It was barely possible for them to move through us, but they did, which meant that you were not only pressed up against strangers, but kept getting pushed into the bargain.

I was wearing a sweater and jacket I couldn’t take off, and I began to sweat. We’d been walking all day and our feet were sore. This went on for AN HOUR AND TEN MINUTES. After an hour, I pushed my way to the podium woman. “I have been standing in this Black Hole of Calcutta for an hour,” I said, “and I am about ready to sit down at a table. What’s going on here? When do these doors open?”

“Actually, I’m in this show,” she said, irrelevantly. “In fact, actually, I’m one of the producers. I have no control over this situation.” This again made no sense. If she was one of the producers, in my mind that meant she WAS one of the people responsible. “I’m trying to speak to the owner,” she went on. “The doors should open in about two minutes.”

But of course it was another ten minutes. By the time the doors opened for us at 11:40, and people began pushing their way chaotically in, I was wringing wet with sweat, I had been holding my empty beer bottle for forty minutes (because there was no place to put it), my feet were screaming, and I was so completely pissed off that the show was ruined for me. By the time I got in there I was about ready to find the owner myself and show HIM a cutting room.

Now I love rock & roll as well as the next guy, so I’ve been to a lot of clubs like this. And I couldn’t tell you the number of times I’ve endured this sort of audience abuse. I will never know what makes anybody think rock & roll fans (which is what most of this crowd was) are any more willing to put up with this sort of shit than the rest of the public, but I can tell you that I’m not. I kept thinking, I PAID for this?!? The airline industry itself – hell, even the health insurance business – couldn’t have increased the misery and contempt to which this place subjected us.

I found out later that Chris Noth, an actor I have admired, is a co-owner. He should stick to acting. The show was OK, I guess. But I ain’t going back to The Cutting Room again.

P.S.: In terms of fire safety, the place is a nightmare waiting to happen. Maybe if somebody called the cops on them they’d get their act together. But I doubt it.

Posted by: Pissed
On: 1/14/2008 11:05:00 AM