Food, Fun & "Fancy Free" - Memorial Day Weekend Staycation

Staycation: Day 1 (Friday, 5/24)

What better way to inaugurate the official beginning of summer than with a Brazilian buffet and Audra McDonald (not together, of course - though the thought of it does get me all hot and bothered - not sure my heart could take the fanboy excitement combined with the cholesterol).  Trish has raved about Villa Brazil for months since her friend, Mara, introduced her to it's carnivorous pleasures.

The restaurant is in our Astoria nabe, but torrential rains (and my laziness) combined with unseasonably cool temperatures forced us to drive the 15 blocks rather than walk.  Mara enthusiastically agreed to join us even though she had just supped with Trish the day before.  Like us, she never passes up an opportunity to stuff her face with grilled meat.

We dropped our umbrellas in the foyer and faster than you can rip the tape off a Brazilian bikini wax, Mara had dragged me to the back of the restaurant where a buffet of South American delights awaited my watering mouth.  I have no idea what anything was (nothing is labeled), but it was all delicioso.  Especially the churrascaria-style meats (pictured above) that the grillman cuts and piles on your plate to order.  I can feel my arteries hardening at the sheer memory of those scrumptious, bloody cuts of sirloin, skirt and rib.

We followed up our animal flesh bacchanal with a trip to, where else, the Entenmann's Bakery Outlet.  It's only two blocks from the restaurant, so we trudged through the wind and rain for $1 pound cakes and english muffin packs.

Trish and I ended our evening in a post-feast haze, watching The Goddess, Audra McDonald, on Live from Lincoln Center.  We were privileged to be in the audience during the live taping, but I wanted to re-live that night from the comfort of my couch and with the added luxury of close-ups.

The gorgeous lobby of the Koch Theatre

Staycation: Day 2 (Saturday, 5/25)

With dreams of Audra wafting through my brain, I slept in until almost noon.  But once up, there was no time for more lounging.  I'd already wasted half of staycation day 2 in my jammies.  With just enough time for the three "sh"'s (shit, shower and shave), Trish and I were off to Lincoln Center for New York City Ballet's "Tribute to Broadway."

Today's matinee program included ballets based on or taken from classic Broadway shows.  First up - "Fancy Free," the Jerome Robbins ballet that inspired Leonard Bernstein to write On The Town.  Gotta' love a man in a tight white uniform, right?  And since Fleet Week was canceled this year, today's show was my only opportunity to openly ogle sailors in NYC this spring.

Second on the program was Christopher Wheeldon's "Carousel" (not to be confused with Agnes de Mille's "Dream Ballet" created for the original Broadway production).  The Wheeldon ballet is a loose interpretation of the musical's Billy/Julie relationship employing excerpts (including the thrilling "Carousel Waltz") from the iconic Rodgers & Hammerstein score.  This piece was new to me, and I appreciated the intricate pattern work and liberal use of - for lack of a better term - the "peel-off" effect.  I also made a mental note of how Wheeldon created a human carousel with his dancers and a few poles.  I'll definitely be stealing this moment...er, I mean recreating the moment "in homage"...the next time I'm called to choreograph the show.

Intermish photo shoot - aren't we lovely?  That's rhetorical.

Trish and I took advantage of the extended intermission to stretch and do some minor back re-alignment.  Our cheapo fourth ring seats, though front row, were way off to one side so we had to sit in an abnormally twisted position in order to see the stage without resorting to some serious Cirque du Soleil neck contorsion.

Act 2 was comprised entirely of Robbins' "West Side Story Suite."  It's sort of the Cliffs Notes version of West Side Story.  I'd never seen a performance of the suite, so I didn't realize the scenes (except "Something's Coming") were literally exerpted from the original staging - including the singing.

I know there are some kick-ass dancer/singers out there, but yikes.  The singing in "America" was barely at the level of a competent high school production.  To be fair, it is a ballet company, but I just couldn't get past Anita's thin, underpowered vocals.  Chita and Rita have forever spoiled me.  Thankfully, a professional singer (on mic stage right) sung the role of Tony during "Something's Coming."

Staring at emaciated dancers for two hours can really work up the appetite.  So after the final curtain call Trish and I headed to Aldea, a Michelin-starred, Iberian restaurant in Union Square.  Normally, this type of fancy-shmancy place is out of my price range.  But the advantage of a staycation is not having to shell out for flights or hotel rooms.  Instead, I was able to divert the extra cash to fund my favorite pastime - gorging until I throw up!

Aldea's small, sleekly furnished dining room has a clear view of the open kitchen in back. The modern design afforded us an unobstructed view of hunky celebrity chef, George Mendes. Talk about wetting - I mean whetting - your, um, appetite.  Yowza.

We decided to forgo restraint in favor of the gluttonous 9 (!) course chef's tasting menu.  You can check out all the gory details to the left (I have no idea what that brown smudge is, but I'd venture to guess it's probably my drool).  Jealous yet?  If not, let me list the "Petiscos" for you:

- Mojito sandwich with coconut water (like a little lemon-mint macaron)
- Potato chip w/ goat cheese and beet purée
- Raw oyster on half shell
- Asparagus soup w/ fresh peas (my favorite)
- Bacalao croquet
- Beet-soaked mini hard-boiled egg

...and the "Pre Dessert":
- Vanilla curd cream with mango granita and mint sorbet topped with vanilla wafer balls

...and yet a tenth, post-dessert bonus "Petit Four" course:
- Almond financier
- Lychee strawberry gelee pâtes de fruits
- Ginger clusters

Is it any wonder the meal took over two and a half hours to serve?

I was so mesmerized by the volume and variety of dishes and the gorgeous plating that I forgot to take pictures.  I finally regained my composure by the dessert course, at least enough to make Trish take this aerial shot (left) of the dessert plate.  Beautiful AND tasty - just like me.

In an effort to burn off a few calories, after dinner we decided to walk uptown to the next subway stop instead of jumping on at Union Square.  As we reached 23rd street we noticed some brightly colored tents and strung carnival lights.  With no other plans for the evening, we decided to investigate.  Nearing the site, the hypnotic smell of beer and fried food wafted passed us and we knew we were heading into dangerous territory - an outdoor food festival.

Just past Eataly, on a tiny triangle of asphalt just west of Madison Square Park, the festive tents of Madison Square Eats were buzzing with a mix of Flatiron yuppies and excited tourists.  I stood wide-eyed, mesmerized by the stands of artisanal street foods.  Though still obscenely full from our 9 course dinner, I was tempted to sneak down a side alley, purge and re-fill.  Instead, Trish and made a plan to return later in the week for dinner.

Not wanting to leave the festival empty handed, we stopped by Macaron Parlour's stand for a sample pack featuring some of their more unusual flavors (including salted caramel, smore and - wait for it - candied bacon with maple cream cheese frosting and - wait for it again - cheetos infused white chocolate ganache!).  We managed to make it all the way home to Astoria before ripping the box open and devouring all 12 of the the colorful, chewy bundles of cream-filled goodness.

Memorial Day Staycation continues...

Audition hell

Our Summer Conservatory production of Crazy for You basically cast itself.  How?  Well, when you pick a tap show requiring incredible triple threat high school performers for all roles, the casting options are understandably limited.  The Pineda Four (me, Juan, Val and Trish) plus the always cheery Señor Chris and Mr. Dan held our last round of auditions and callbacks this past weekend in a marathon two-day session. 

I was actually surprised at the number of girls with serious dance training and not just eight years of jazz from Miss Nancy’s School of Dance* and Pageant Training (totally fictional, of course).  I say that now, after auditioning almost a decade’s worth of summer and community theatre shows where some girls list 5 years of jazz, 7 years of ballet and 6 years of tap training on their resume only to stare in horror when I ask them to chaine across the floor.  But that is a rant for another time. 

As always, there was no shortage of girls at the audition and we ended up with multiple choices for each role.  The boys? - not so much.  For those lucky enough to possess a penis, a role was virtually guaranteed due to the sheer number of male roles in the show. 

Unfortunately, Val’s plan to throw some gal’s into the ensemble in the Western scenes hit a slight snafu when she realized the script kept mentioning Polly as the only woman in the whole town.  Surely not a self-esteem builder for any young lady she might have chosen to add to these scenes.  And yes, Trish and I were aware of this fact when Val first brought the idea up, but knowing her mental state before the auditions (she’s currently also rehearsing two other shows), I thought it best she experience her own personal epiphany.  Besides, she was just so gung-ho about the idea, I couldn’t bear to be the one to burst her bubble. 

My favorite, and coincidentally most uncomfortable, audition moment occurred during the callbacks for Irene, the snobby socialite who eventually finds her inner Marilyn Monroe.  Señor Chris taught the girls a “sexy” chair dance to “Naughty Baby.”  Suffice it to say, I foresee some very lucrative careers ahead for some of these ladies at Flashdancers.

The offers have all gone out and we are now eagerly awaiting the inevitable angry, disappointed and/or tear-filled facebook statuses to follow.  It’s tough shattering the dreams of dozens of New Jersey teenagers. 

*Disclaimer:  Can you believe there is an actual Nancy’s School of Dance in D’Iberville, MS?!  I googled it out of curiosity shortly after completing this blog entry.  I’m sure the training there is impeccable.**

**Per my lawyer.  J 

(Almost) no rehearsal this week OR Fausto has too much time on his hands because he's writing on that damn blog every single f*ckin' day!

So all I do is bitch and moan about how busy I am. Finally I get a couple of days off and I’m bored. I’m not saying I’m thankful that I had to trudge out to NJ for the brush-up rehearsal last night - and thanks to the MTA for making me miss my bus - but I guess I’m just the kind of personality that needs constant amusement, like a cat or a 3 year old.

Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty to do. My bathroom is disgusting and don’t even ask me how long it’s been since I’ve changed the sheets on my bed. But rehearsals, work and commuting have been a great excuse to put off other, probably more important tasks like cleaning up that lethal black mold city growing in the shower and getting rid of that three week old plastic bag of white and green fuzz in the fridge. And don’t even get me started on the DVR list. I guess I just have to wrap up in my snuggie, order a pizza and have a Fringe, Survivors (BBC series, not the reality show), and Glee marathon. Honestly, I enjoy Glee for the musical numbers (when are they going to have a Sondheim episode? And before you say it, I know, I know, nobody outside musical theatre cares about Sondheim, but a girl can dream), but quite frankly, it’s pretty badly written. I mean, every single character is a scheming two-sided bitch. Even Mr. Shuester isn’t that sympathetic a character. Oh well, maybe it needs some time to find it’s rhythm. I mean, those early episodes of Sex and the City were pretty inconsistent. Remember Carrie’s asides to the camera? Scary. And wait, what was the point of this paragraph? Oh yeah, I’m a procrastinator and use my “busy” life as an excuse to live in filth. Who needs a therapist?

The cast seemed pretty upbeat at today’s brush-up rehearsal. I was afraid people would show up all attitude-y since a brush-up was never included in the original rehearsal schedule. But hell, if you want to maintain “the best dancing that’s been seen on the CDC stage in years” you have to crack the whip, LOL! I don’t mean to make light of a wonderful review in this week’s Westfield Leader (and Ms. Dougherty, if by some weird reason you’ve found this blog, please stop reading) but technically, praising the dancing is a compliment to the dancers not the choreographer. She never actually says that the choreography is any good, although I think that’s what she means. Or does she? In a veiled way is she saying that the choreography sucks and that the poor talented dancers rise above it? Is she trying to sabatoge my career? Does Ms. Dougherty not think I would see through her charade? Mama, am I pretty? Ok, maybe I do need therapy.

Some of you are probably wondering what the hell is up with The Wedding Singer. Tech week starts tonight and I’ve only just mentioned it in passing a couple of times here in the last three months. To be honest, I’ve been so overwhelmed with rehearsals, research and prep, that any time I have away from Wedding Singer is cherished, mullet-free me time. What were we smoking back in High School (Class of '88, hollah!)? I mean, really, no one looks good in a mullet.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy the process or the cast. In fact, we have a kick ass group of leads and an ensemble with (gasp) actual male dancers! Unfortunately, that means I need to have actual choreography prepared for them to execute.

I am the first to admit that I have quite a large artistic ego. So I challenged myself not to copy any of the Broadway dances. Unfortunately, many of the iconic moments are fully ingrained into my psyche from having seen the show twice (maybe three times? - can’t remember) and watching the numerous youtube clips of regional productions all copying the Broadway choreography. I’m content, though not totally happy to admit that I’ve come up with about 90% original work. I mean, it’s an 80’s show so you basically have to resign yourself to using the running man somewhere, right?

Did I also mention that I’m the co-director, set designer, set painter, part-time rehearsal pianist and second keyboard player in the pit band? I know, talk about control freak, right? Oh well, at least I can admit it.

But back to the original point - what’s been going on at rehearsals for the last three months? Well, there is plenty of gossip (who’s gay, who’s not gay, who used to be gay), artistic rifts between staff and cast and an inevitable show-mance or two. But hey, just change the names, show and theatre and you pretty much get the backstage drama at any theatre group in the country (and probably the world). Dear God, am I actually having an existential moment here? What is the meaning of it all? Oh, sweet Nietzsche, I need a drink before our forty hour rehearsal tonight.

Come Fly Away (3/11) - let's compare thighs...

I don’t know if I’d call it a Broadway musical - more like a dance concert on steroids - but Trish and I caught Come Fly Away the other night - the new Twyla Tharp / Frank Sinatra collaboration. Can you collaborate with someone who’s been dead for over a decade? I guess it’s a mute point.

If you’re heading to the theatre thinking you’re in for a full-blown Frankie musical a la Jersey Boys, you will surely be disappointed. The show is a series of character-driven dances, each using a Sinatra classic. The shoestring plot revolves around three main couples. They all first meet at a club, then eventually strip down to bare chests and bras and finally all throw on formal wear for a rousing and inspirational “My Way.” No, it doesn’t really make much sense, but who cares? The athletic and often gravity-defying choreography was enough to hold my interest for two hours. Granted, a stronger, more fleshed-out plot would definitely provide a depth to the material that is currently lacking, but Tharp’s inventive lifts and always showy (in a good way) choreography are the selling points here.

More impressive is the cast of dancers, whose technique is filtered through solid, though mainly two dimensional, characterizations. I, of course, want to give a shout out to the “older” couple (my age! LOL), John Selya and Holley Farmer, whose dancing is marked by graceful restraint and efficiency. The “young” couple, Laura Mead and Charlie Neshyba-Hodges, dance with a combination of athleticism and power that is tempered by an endearing sense of humor. Not to mention that Neshyba-Hodges could give Cheyenne a run for his money in the hunky thighs category - I’m just saying. Karine Plantadit and Keith Roberts, as the “tumultuous” couple, imbued “That’s Life” with an animalistic sexuality that made the middle-aged woman next to me gasp in surprise (or maybe excitement?). The implied sexual tension between these two was far more interesting than the blatant humping taking place during much of the second act.

Of course, having now shown her penchant and success with character-driven dance begs the question - when will Ms. Tharp be asked to choreograph a book musical (a la Fosse, Robbins or De Mille)? Or maybe she has been asked and has simply declined? If the latter, what a waste, considering the mostly meaningless, albeit showy, choreography we’ve been seeing on Broadway stages as of late.



Best gams on Broadway? Cheyenne (top, reigning champion) or Charlie Neshyba-Hodges (newly of Come Fly Away). Let the games begin!

Holy understudies!

Trish and I were slightly shocked walking into the Palace Theatre last night to see the cast board list BOTH Tony AND Maria out of that evening’s performance. Luckily, both standbys were on rather than understudies, so at least the rest of the cast was intact. I’m sure Trish would have stormed the box office demanding a refund had her Equity boyfriend, Curtis Holbrook, been out as well. We couldn’t help but laugh, considering I purchased the tickets on a whim four hours before the performance. Supposedly sold out for the rest of the week, I checked online to see if there were any newly released tickets. Sure enough, two center, first row, front mezzanine seats materialized. Crediting good birthday karma (Happy 39th Birthday to me!), I snatched them up certain this was God’s personal gift to me. I guess this was his way of telling me that nothing good in life comes that easy.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful to those hard-working actors, but how can you not be slightly disappointed when not just one, but both lead actors are out of a show? And the lead couple, no less? I do give props to both Matthew Hydzik (on for Matt Cavanaugh’s Tony) and Haley Carlucci (on for Josefina Scaglione’s Maria) who were solid and for the most part confident in the roles. Both have strong acting chops and were vocally adequate, but were definitely missing some much needed chemistry. I can’t really blame them. How can you be “in the moment” when you’re probably thinking, “Is my next quick change on stage left or stage right?” There were a couple of “deer-in-headlight” moments - notably in the park-and-bark sections of "Tonight" and "One Hand, One Heart" - but these seemed to be a directorial choice. And I’m sure he was directed this way, but Hydzik seemed way too wide-eyed and “clean” to pass for a former rough-and-tumble gang member. I mean, my mom could probably beat the sh*t out of Tony as played last night by Hydzik. And I know it was lifted from the movie, but would a gang member, even a very stylish one, be caught wandering the barrio in a shiny purple suit? I mean, I own a red velvet sport jacket that’s less gay than that purple suit…which leads to may next minor quibble.

I know the thrilling Jerome Robbins choreography demands dancers of impeccable technique and virtuosity, but the buffed out Chelsea-boy type doesn’t necessarily convey rough and world weary. It wasn’t that these boys seemed necessarily pretty or clean cut, but as Trish pointed out, they seemed “soft” - like an all Upper East Side prep school gang - not very intimidating. I’d have to note Curtis Holbrook as an exception. Though it’s written into his character, Holbrook was most successful in portraying the pent up rage that could make an audience believe he’d resort to murder.

All the controversy of the added Spanish text and the translation of some of the song lyrics is much ado about nothing. Though at times the revisions did heighten the audience’s understanding of the cultural barriers intrinsic to the plot, they didn’t really prove revelatory in any way. They were harmless, but in the end, un-needed and maybe a bit gimmicky. As a regular opera attendee, I don’t agree that language necessarily adds cultural resonance to a work. If an opera composer was Italian, his opera was in Italian regardless of where it takes place or the ethnicity of the characters. I guess what I’m really saying is, “If it ain’t broke, don't fix it.”

Karen Olivo, having to distinguish herself from two iconic portrayals (by Chita and Rita), creates a more earthy and sexual Anita than her predecessors. People were complaining that her dancing was “lacking.” But as a full package, I think she’s pretty amazing. She’s so strong (and tall) that I was convinced she could easily whoop some of those pansy-ass Jets in the closing rape scene. And relevant to nothing, she's part Asian! (Puerto Rican, Dominican and Chinese - you better work, sister!)

But in the end, the incredible Bernstein score and the Robbins choreography elevated the show above all of my complaints. Is there any show written or produced in the last ten years that even comes close to it in quality and scope? I don’t think so. I guess with the continued commercialization of Broadway, the hope of seeing another West Side Story in our time seems kinda’ doubtful, but I’m still hoping.

On a side note - plenty of "celeb" sightings this evening: Camryn Mannheim eating dinner two tables down from us at the Edison, Cody Green walking down Broadway next to Trish and Aaron Tveit riding the N train after the show with us.

Who we didn't see last night in West Side Story, Josefina Scaglione and Matt Cavanaugh

Do, Re, Mi and so on...

This is just a fun and silly bit of hmmm...what would you call it? - Performance art, I guess? As dancer's take over a train station in Antwerp. According to one of the comments on Youtube, it was an advertisement for a reality show to choose the next Maria in an upcoming production of The Sound of Music in Belgium. I have to say, this is way more entertaining than the entire season of "Grease! - You're the One That I Want" from a couple seasons back.

My favorite spot is around 2:50 when the entire crowd breaks into the Macarena! Ha - it's like the ultimate bad-in-a-good-way wedding reception. If only people did just break out into song and dance spontaneously, the world would be a happier place.

Michael Bennett is laughing his ass off

How much can one accomplish in 45 seconds? Quite a lot actually. After I stopped bitching and moaning about the time restriction placed on the presentation of my “Outstanding Choreography” by the producers of the Perry Awards ceremony, I began whittling the 15-minute dream ballet down to a 30 to 40 second snippet that would best display my choreographic genius (sarcasm folks, get used to it). Granted, I didn’t stop bitching and moaning until just this weekend, when I met with my two lovely leads, Chris and Corinne. But after some judicious cutting and some creative re-choreographing, we’ve actually come up with a 45 second mini-dream ballet! Not that it’s perfect or that I couldn’t use another 10-15 seconds (or minute or two or three), but necessity is definitely the mother f*cker of invention.

Now just because I was able to figure out a sufficient (though not ideal) solution, I still think 40 seconds is ridiculous. Here’s how the producers explained the time limit to me - and I’m paraphrasing quite freely, of course. Since Michael Bennett was able to accomplish so much in the first 40 seconds of A Chorus Line, you should, too. And that makes sense how? It’s apples and oranges. First, Bennett was a genius and I am not worthy to wash his dance belt, let alone deign to think I could accomplish anything remotely akin to ACL. But I can’t speak for the other nominees. Perhaps one of them is a genius on par with Bennett hiding in the world of community theatre in defiance of the artistically barren, commercial wasteland that is Broadway. But I seriously doubt it. Also, there’s context. The first 40 seconds of ACL are not plot-driven. It’s an audition situation that is meant to showcase technique, not further plot. What are you supposed to get out of that first 40 seconds of ACL? That these are really good dancers at an audition. Of course, that's over-simplifying and God knows I'm not implying that the first 40 seconds of ACL aren't brilliant, but Bennett's genius was that he knew his context, not to mention his knack for putting together striking stage pictures and formations. It's not so difficult to put together a series of difficult tricks. But try to couple those tricks with concise, meaningful story-telling. That’s a different matter. I choose to present a complete, thoughtful section of choreography that tells a full story and develops character rather than haul out a horse-and-pony show of triple pirouettes and tour jetes.

And then there’s tempi - there are a lot of counts to fill in that first 40 seconds of ACL. Not so much if you’re using a slower, lyrical section of music. I know what you’re thinking. Nobody’s holding a gun to your head, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou Fausto, and forcing you to use the Dream Ballet. OK, fine, you got me there. But I was told that it would be “really great” if I could. I mean, how subtle a hint do I need? The producers obviously want me to do that section. Anyway, the other nominees are either tap or traditional “Broadway”-style jazz dance. All of which, in my opinion, are more easily showcased in a 40 second snippet. I mean, 40 seconds of 42nd Street? Puh-leaze. I can have 15 people doing wings and triple time steps and finish it off with front handsprings across the stage and the audience will be creaming in their pants.

And then the shows nominated for Best Production get seven minutes to present whatever they want. Seven minutes? That's three full songs. The Tonys don't even grant seven minutes.

The Perry people complain that their ceremony takes too long. Might I suggest 90 seconds for choreography and 5 minutes for musical scenes? I think that’s completely fair and still manages to cut down the time of presentations by several minutes. Oh well, I’m just bitching and enjoying they view up here from my high horse. The Perry producers don’t give a rat’s ass what I think, although I am part of the Pineda's, an up-and-coming family in NJ community theatre. That should count for something. Or more likely, nothing. But I guess I'm just ranting like a lunatic. But it's far cheaper to do it here than on a therapists couch. Deep breath - I feel much better now.

De-virginized at Lincoln Center

Get your minds out of the gutter! Last night was a first for me - my first live full-length ballet, Susan Stroman’s Double Feature. There was some suitable pre-show drama at the box office. Upon asking for the two tickets I had purchased for us (Trish and me), I was handed a single ticket. In a panic I checked my printed confirmation, and sure enough I had forgotten to change the "number of seats" box to "2". Luckily for us (not so much for the box office) there were plenty of unsold seats and he was able to exchange the ticket for a pair next to each other. Moral of story: always check your confirmations!

For me, it was a great introduction to ballet. Clear storytelling and characterizations and as far as I could tell, great dancing. I will not admit to being an expert on dance technique, but I was impressed. It’s nice to see what Stro, who I know only as a musical theatre director/choreographer, could do with a company of dancers rather than the measly little ensembles that pass for choruses in Broadway shows now (no cut on Broadway talent, just the skimping on cast sizes).

A bit melodramatic, though probably keeping with the period and style, the first act’s (“The Blue Necklace”) quasi-Cinderella-like plot didn’t hold many surprises, but did get to feature a remarkable solo by Damian Woetzel and some nice pairing with Ashley Bouder. The second act, “Makin’ Whoopee!” demonstrated Stro’s gift for stage pictures. The image of (seemingly) hundreds of brides-to-be in white wedding dresses (many in drag) chasing Jimmie (Tom Gold) brought sustained laughter from the audience - me included. Gold’s combination of graceful technique and Chaplin-esque angularity perfectly suited the style. I’m not sure if hardcore ballet lovers would consider this piece a true ballet, but it definitely has encouraged me to try some of NYCB other offerings (as I'm sure it did for other newbies).

FYI - we were able to move down to the front of the balcony because there were so many empty seats. I have a feeling that this may be a result of snobbery on the part of ballet fans and indifference from musical theater fans. I think Double Feature is probably the perfect combination of both worlds. Highly recommended.