I’m not a drama or theatre expert.
I’ve seen a few professional plays, and enjoyed them all, to include the one where I thought I’d suffocate before the final curtain.
Broadway is famous for its shows, but I figured the shows couldn’t be as good as I’d heard.
When I saw one last year, I figured out I was wrong.
I mentioned Broadway when I wrote what happened to my hand on a sidewalk in New York City, but the story ended before the curtain rose.
Broadway is a road well-traveled, but the show I saw inside one of the street’s famed auditoriums is in a class by itself.
We sat in a balcony inside the Gershwin Theatre, and I flipped through my “Wicked” playbill.
I’d heard the story’s premise, the classic tale of Dorothy Gale through the Wicked Witch’s eyes, but I’ve never read the books.
I write so I love a good story, and I thought the one I saw in the Gershwin Theatre was genius.
I won’t give it away, but it was so much more than just the classic tale of Dorothy Gale from a different point of view.
I almost bought the book, because it’s rare when movies are better to me than the books from which they’re adapted, but I haven’t yet because what I saw was so good.
The story could have stood on its own, but the production strengthened it.
I’m no theatre critic, but every performer was phenomenal.
They seemed so immersed in their characters they might as well have been them, at least until the curtain call.
Their voices, spoken words and sung, were powerful.
The costumes were elaborate, as advertised.
I didn’t expect the props to be what they were. The sets and all of the moving parts involved were incredible.
The play ran for hours, but it seemed like minutes.
If I were to find myself on Broadway again, I’d go see “Wicked” again, but I might miss out on another great show.
I know I’d recommend a Broadway performance to anybody.
It’s quite a spectacle.
This post is a response to Sue’s prompt, which is “spectacle.”