When There is No Coat Check

My favorite part of theatre-going is always the anticipation. I love going to the theatre in a physical sense: stepping into the space, exchanging my coat for a bass tag, admiring the interior decor, scoping out the cafe (oh my gosh there's the gift shop!)This ritual just heightens my excitement for a show, which I see as a chance to be transported, to see something totally different than the space I'm surveying. Then I step into the theatre and apologize my way to my to my seat. All this leads to the moment when the house lights go black and I'm filled with such excitement I can barely contain myself when the stage alights and it looks like the director produced a new world just for this moment.
But last night's fantastic experience at Teatr.doc totally changed this narrative I've been so comfortably expecting for years of shows. There is no grand enterence at Doc. Political pressure has forced The company out of two locations in the past two years and their current home is a basement in a Moscow residential neighborhood. Stepping down some slippery steps you find yourself practically tumbling into the cloak room, a closet full of plastic hangers, and hanging your own coat for a change. Upon return to the foyer you take your copy paper ticket and wait to be ushered in the space. The foyer fills up fast with other guests. Not just hip, young Muscovites, but adults of all ages. They're here not because it's a grand show of status or because they've seen the show ten times over. They're here to see something new and exciting they can only find in this basement! We stand elbow to elbow and then rush into the theatre in the round, made by folding chairs. There is no moment of silence as house lights dim, because the actors are seated among and around us. They start the show when they want, stepping out onto the stage from a shared reality, not one separated by house and stage.
Teatr.doc lacked all the normal things I look forward to in my anticipative ritual but I loved it because I was forced to be a part of what had, up until now, been separate to me. I stopped craving the theatre/reality distinction just for a night to be part of something really special.