Welcome to Russian theaters, where the seat assignments are made up and the tickets don't matter! That's right, the seat listed on your ticket is as worthless as any hope of spring weather arriving in Moscow before May.
I've seen a lot of theatre here in Russia, and "theatre" in Russia includes more that just drama. It includes ballet, opera, contemporary dance, installation art, and more. One thing that is true across all genres though? The seat listed on your ticket means nothing. Once you're in the theatre, all it takes is some determination and courage, and you can sit in nearly any open seat. Here's how it works:
As a student of the Moscow Art Theatre School, I get in for free or for just a couple hundred roubles (no more than 200 or so, which works out to around $7) at nearly any show in town. The catch? I often don't have a seat. Instead, I stand around at the back of the theatre until the third bell rings. This is the final call for people to take their seats. At this point, one of two things happens. Either an usher will direct me to some extra chairs set up in the back, or I'm expected to find an open seat and take it, as quickly as possible. Seems simple enough, right? Well, in the drama theaters, it usually is. An usher will direct me to an open seat, and I'll sit down. But the opera and ballet houses are a whole different matter. In these venues, as soon as the third bell rings, it's a free-for-all. Everyone starts rushing toward better seats as soon as the lights begin to dim after the third bell. The first time I attended a ballet, a middle-aged Russian woman kicked me out of my seat. I moved, thinking she had the ticket for that seat and had just arrived. But now I know that she figured out I was a naive American and that she could take advantage of my politeness. Now I'm a bit wiser. Last night, at the New Stage of the Bolshoi, I and about a dozen of my classmates all ran out of our box and back into the theatre through another entrance to snag better seats as soon as the lights dimmed.
Of course, occasionally, I am lucky enough to have an actual seat listed on my ticket. In that case, I'm happy to sit in my assigned seat, at least until intermission, when the mad rush toward better empty seats starts all over again.
I've seen a lot of theatre here in Russia, and "theatre" in Russia includes more that just drama. It includes ballet, opera, contemporary dance, installation art, and more. One thing that is true across all genres though? The seat listed on your ticket means nothing. Once you're in the theatre, all it takes is some determination and courage, and you can sit in nearly any open seat. Here's how it works:
As a student of the Moscow Art Theatre School, I get in for free or for just a couple hundred roubles (no more than 200 or so, which works out to around $7) at nearly any show in town. The catch? I often don't have a seat. Instead, I stand around at the back of the theatre until the third bell rings. This is the final call for people to take their seats. At this point, one of two things happens. Either an usher will direct me to some extra chairs set up in the back, or I'm expected to find an open seat and take it, as quickly as possible. Seems simple enough, right? Well, in the drama theaters, it usually is. An usher will direct me to an open seat, and I'll sit down. But the opera and ballet houses are a whole different matter. In these venues, as soon as the third bell rings, it's a free-for-all. Everyone starts rushing toward better seats as soon as the lights begin to dim after the third bell. The first time I attended a ballet, a middle-aged Russian woman kicked me out of my seat. I moved, thinking she had the ticket for that seat and had just arrived. But now I know that she figured out I was a naive American and that she could take advantage of my politeness. Now I'm a bit wiser. Last night, at the New Stage of the Bolshoi, I and about a dozen of my classmates all ran out of our box and back into the theatre through another entrance to snag better seats as soon as the lights dimmed.
Of course, occasionally, I am lucky enough to have an actual seat listed on my ticket. In that case, I'm happy to sit in my assigned seat, at least until intermission, when the mad rush toward better empty seats starts all over again.
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