Matilda Just Recouped, and That's a Bad Thing

The revolting children of Broadway's Matilda are officially in the black, which should make saving for their college funds significantly easier.

Matilda recently announced it had officially recouped the entirety of its $16 million capitalization, meaning the production is finally in the black. Any money made over its weekly operating costs is pure profit at this point, a milestone only an estimated 1 in 4 Broadway productions reach. And while this is an excellent celebration for Matilda and its producers (who will hopefully put some of those profits into developing more new work), the implications for the greater Broadway community are a little more troubling.

You see, by pretty much every metric Matilda is an unqualified success. Critics (myself among them) loved the show, giving it across the board raves for its inventive staging, winsome performances, and clever writing that challenges rather than talks down to its family audience. The production is often sold out, and even on a bad week rarely dips below 80% capacity. It routinely brings in over $1 million in weekly grosses, and shows no signs of slowing down almost 2 years into its run. Come January, the only other show still running show from the 2012-2013 Broadway season will be Kinky Boots, the musical the beat Matilda in that year's Best Musical race (and in hindsight, Matilda is probably the more deserving show).

So why on earth did it take Matilda so long to turn a profit? Kinky Boots turned a profit over a year ago, no doubt bolstered by a summer of sell-out business following its Best Musical win. That season's Best Musical Revival, Pippin, also recouped around the same time, although to be fair its capitalization was only half of Matilda's. To be doubly fair, Pippin's weekly grosses were often far below Matilda's during the same timeframe.

The obvious answer for the delay is that Matilda, like a growing number of Broadway shows and especially new musicals, cost a lot of money to mount. The cast is large, especially when taking into account that many of the children's roles are doubled or even tripled. Add in the fact that the production is contractually obligated to hire child wranglers to supervise all these minors and you have another major expense. The set is rather intricate, and there are several special effects that are surely driving up the weekly running costs. A higher weekly nut (the industry term for a show's running costs) means less of the gross can go towards paying back investors, something that surely slowed the show's progress towards turning a profit.

However, the nearly 2 year saga of Matilda's inching towards profitability begs the questions: what is wrong with Broadway budgeting when even a hit takes so long to recoup? Did the show really *need* all 16 million of those dollars, or is a large chunk of that tied up in needless waste from redundant union contracts and unnecessarily costly production elements? The show's high price tag is especially disheartening when you learn that the production team actually cut certain expenses present in the London production in an effort to keep costs down, and the Broadway mounting still costs almost 4 times its West End counterpart (where theatre is much more heavily subsidized by the government).

This is ludicrous, and it is a problem that no one in the Broadway industry seems particularly keen on tackling. It is the main reason ticket prices continue to climb, making theatre an ever more elitist art form instead of the populist entertainment it used to be. The average person cannot afford a $135 ticket more than once or twice a year, if that. But when your show costs $16 million and you want to pay back your investors' money, you can understand why producers feel the need to charge that much. Which in turn begins a cycle where people want to see something that looks like it costs that much, which again raises prices, which continues ad naseum until you end up with an ungainly monstrosity so focused on the spectacle it becomes a creative nightmare (Spider-Man being the most high profile recent example).

This is not an easy problem to fix, and solving it will take a seismic change in the way the industry works. First and foremost, everyone should probably take a pay cut, something that will of course be horribly unpopular but is ultimately an investment in the future of the industry. No one will have any jobs if costs end up pricing theatre out of reach for all but the wealthy elite. The pay cut doesn't necessarily have to come from the salary if the unions would make some concessions in other areas; for instance, maybe the stagehand and musician unions take a long, hard look at how many people they require Broadway shows to hire. And as very few actors manage to qualify for Equity's healthcare but the universal payment amount to a major production expense, maybe producers could stop being required to pay into the system for actors who don't opt in.

Secondly, all designers and directors should really adopt a less is more approach. There are some eye-popping special effects in Matilda that are plot driven and need to be included, but there are also things like lasers which may look cool but don't particularly add much to the show other than running costs. In my experience, some of the most effective theatrical moments are the simplest, the ones that embrace stagecraft rather than trying to produce a literal representation of whatever they're meant to portray (something film is significantly better at, anyway). The Lion King is one of the most spectacle driven shows on Broadway, and the moment that most took my breath away was one of the simplest: a bright blue piece of fabric being pulled through an upstage hole, simply and elegantly conveying the drought that plagues the African savannah.

Now of course artists need to make money, and I'm not arguing that we suddenly start paying the most talented people in our industry nothing. And I'm certainly not against spectacle or lavish production elements when warranted, as they contribute to some of the magic of theatre. But being more selective about how productions spend their money is probably a good idea. There's no reason for a hit show like Matilda to take 2 years to turn a profit, especially in an age when the average length of a Broadway run is growing shorter. Many shows - even well received ones - can't count on running 2 years, so any budget that requires that much time to turn a profit isn't the most fiscally responsible. Addressing these issues will take a major shift in the way producers and unions think about Broadway budgets, and will take some self sacrifice on everyone's part in order to ensure the future health of the medium. But if no action is taken, Broadway will soon go the way of opera, catering to a small, elite minority rather than the masses. And that would be a true tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.

Broadway and the Burden of Unrealistic Expectations

Tony-nominee Andrew Rannells dons Hedwig's wig and high heels through October 12th, at which point Michael C. Hall takes over.

For the third week in a row, Playbill.com has felt the need to take thinly disguised digs at Andrew Rannells' box office performance in Hedwig and the Angry Inch. And while nothing they have reported has been untrue, the way they are spinning the story is indicative of a problem in the way they and many others view Broadway grosses, and the unrealistic expectations placed on most shows.

In case you somehow hadn't heard, Tony-winner Neil Patrick Harris brought in ridiculous amounts of cash during his 5 month stint as the German transgendered rocker. The show was routinely sold-out, set various house records at the Belasco Theatre, and spent most of the summer grossing more than $1 million per week. Obviously, the producers of the revival were wise to wait until Harris' schedule allowed him to do the show before mounting a Broadway production, which recouped its entire investment in mid-July. It was a given that the show would see a decrease in box office receipts when Harris departed (it was mildly surprising the producers decided to keep the show running without him), but I think spinning Rannells' run thus far as a financial disappointment is a disservice to Rannells, the show, and Broadway in general.

Last week, Hedwig made $514,411 (59% of its potential gross) and played to 70% capacity crowds. That is a large step down from last week's 81% potential gross and 93% full houses and an even bigger drop from Harris' heyday, but every single show on Broadway saw significant (often six figure) drops in grosses following the Labor Day holiday. The one exception to this is the Nathan Lane-Matthew Broderick led It's Only a Play, which managed to buck the trend by having 8 performances instead of the 5 it had the week before. Hedwig is still doing better, gross-wise, than the much more expensive Cinderella, Best Musical winner Once, and the Diane Paulus-helmed Pippin.

Considering that Hedwig is a cult musical which until a few months ago no one was sure could succeed on the Great White Way and has lost its main selling point, I'd call those numbers just fine. As a small show with low running costs which has already recouped (there aren't many costumes or pricey technical elements, and you can bet that Rannells' salary isn't anywhere near what Harris was being paid), Hedwig likely has a very low bar to clear in order to remain profitable. And while Rannells is popular within theatre circles, he doesn't have nearly the mainstream appeal or drawing power as Harris. Viewed in that light, the fact that he and the Hedwig brand can fill the Belasco to 70% capacity during a notoriously slow time of year is something to be celebrated.

The fact that many people view these numbers as disappointing points to a larger problem in the unrealistic expectations producers and the public have for Broadway shows. Because shows like Wicked and The Lion King have done so well for so many years, they have erroneously become the yard sticks by which a potential hit is judged. This is akin to saying that an athlete is no good because they aren't performing at Olympic medal levels, which is absolutely ridiculous. The last place finisher at the Olympics is still better than a huge percentage of the population, and the fact that Hedwig continues to run (and has just announced an extension into January 2015) while other spring shows have already closed is a testament to how well the show is doing financially. Just because a show isn't making $1 million a week doesn't mean it's doing poorly, and we shouldn't consider shows a disappointment if they don't run for 10+ years.

But unfortunately, many people do use those metrics as the measure of a show's success, which is unfair to the industry and all the very talented people working in it. It casts the industry in a poor light and makes the theatre seem much less healthy than it actually is; as I have stated before, I think the current model of more shows with shorter runs is ultimately better and more exciting for the industry artistically. And while I am not privy to any budgeting meetings for Broadway shows, I think too many shows are budgeted in a way that they have to do sell-out business to be financially viable, since that is what is expected of a "successful" show.

So let's try to focus on the positive. If a relative unknown like Andrew Rannells can retain such a large percentage of certified star Neil Patrick Harris' box office numbers, that is a win. It shows that audiences are in fact interested in the show and not just the lead actor, something that should be encouraging to all the people who decry Broadway's current obsession with celebrity vehicles. And if numbers continue to decline and Hedwig closes before the new year, who cares? By every metric that matters, the production is an unqualified success, and exposed a great piece of contemporary musical theatre to a much larger audience than could ever fit in the show's original Off-Broadway home and the small spaces it is traditionally performed in. To borrow the famed Gershwin lyric, "who could ask for anything more?"

Why Shorter Runs are Good for Broadway

 

When it first opened on Broadway, Oklahoma!'s 5 year run made it an unprecedented smash.  This past January, Phantom of the Opera celebrated its 25th year on the Great White Way.

Anyone who’s paying attention has probably noticed that even Broadway’s big hits aren’t running as long as they used to.  In a trend kickstarted by the singular sensation A Chorus Line, it seemed like almost every hit musical from the eighties and nineties was guaranteed a nice, long run that routinely stretched past the ten year mark.  Shows like Cats, Les Miserables, and The Phantom of the Opera (whose recorded shattering run has lasted over 25 years) made a compelling argument for hit shows that could run essentially forever. 

But around the dawn of the new millennium, things began to change.  Many of the old stalwarts like Les Miz and Cats played their final performances, and even Tony-winning megahits like The Producers and Hairspray began posting closing notices sooner than expected (although still long after they had turned a profit).  Some people bemoaned this fact; after all, I’m sure more than few producers have sent their kids through college using the money they made from long-running hits like The Lion King and Chicago, and the steady work such shows provide performers and technicians can be a godsend in an industry where stability is a rare commodity.  But I would argue the trend towards shorter runs is actually beneficial for the industry, and not just because there are only so many times I can hear “Dancing Queen” without wanting to punch someone.

To me, it seems the biggest benefit of the end of long runs is the theatre space it frees up.  There are only a finite number of Broadway theatres, and every season Wicked or Jersey Boys run they prevent another, potentially great production from receiving its Broadway debut.  This spring has already seen both The Velocity of Autumn and The Miss Firecracker Contest postpone their announced Broadway engagements due to lack of theatre space.  There is an extremely well-reviewed production of The Glass Menagerie currently playing at A.R.T. in Boston that producers would love to transfer (and I would love to see), but there’s no suitable theatre available.  Simply put, we have reached a point where there are more potential Broadway shows than there are Broadway theatres, and the longer the current shows run the longer we must wait to see what’s next.

An increased number of shows also means an increased number of playwrights, composers, and directors who get the invaluable experience of creating a show on Broadway.  This is particularly true for musical theatre artists, as finding an Off-Broadway venue with the space and resources to mount a new musical is at best challenging and at worst near impossible.  Yes, there are plenty of large regional theatres that are both willing and able to produce new musicals, and while an out-of-town experience is certainly useful, even vital, to the development of a show and its writers, it cannot duplicate the scrutiny and exposure a Broadway mounting brings with it.

The decrease in long-running shows will also help stem the tide of artistic stagnation that has been threatening to overtake Broadway for years.  New shows automatically increase the amount of fresh and exciting ideas circulating within in the industry, while preventing once innovative notions from wearing out their welcome.  A recent visit to the long-running Chicago revival confirmed what I had long feared:  what was once a fresh, exciting production has been overtaken by lackadaisical actors going through the motions, making the entire affair feel rather bland in the process.  This is not to say the show is bad; it still has its moments (the choreography, for example), and many of the tourists who make up the show’s demographic are blissfully unaware that they are experiencing a third rate version of this once first rate entertainment.  But Broadway is supposed to be the top tier of the American theatre industry, and unfortunately the longer a show runs the more likely it is to lose the luster that once made it seem revelatory.

More regular change also keeps Broadway’s performers on their toes, creating an environment where they can grow artistically thanks to a steady stream of new experiences.  While there is certainly something to be said for a steady paycheck, too many talented performers become seduced by that notion and spend three or four years doing the same show, eventually reaching the point where they could perform the show in their sleep.  The skills that are not actively required by that particular role become dull or lost, which will make landing the next job that much harder and keep the actor from achieving their full potential.

Finally, shorter runs lead to smarter budgeting by producers.  While it has never been a sound decision to budget a show so that it must run for years to turn a profit, the eighties and nineties spawned enough examples of long-running shows that producers began assuming every show would be equally successful.  Now that even the hit shows are closing sooner, producers will (hopefully) start creating shows with more sensible, sustainable budgets so that a greater number of them recoup their investment, thereby generating more income that can be used to finance the next wave of productions.

To be clear, I am not saying that long runs are inherently bad.  Good shows deserve financial success, and the employment opportunities afforded by long-running shows are certainly appreciated in these tough economic times.  For instance, The Book of Mormon is an incredible artistic achievement that has earned every bit of its runaway success, meriting the nice long run it will surely enjoy.  Shows like Wicked and Rent have introduced an entire generation to the joys of live theatre, and many of the people entering the industry today were inspired to do so by their experience with those shows.  But I do think that wanting everything to run for decades is neither realistic nor healthy for the industry as a whole, and that shows which run for a more than five years should be the exception and not the rule.

Thankfully, I think Broadway is heading back in this direction.  Now that many of the old juggernauts have closed, the industry seems to be recalibrating its definition of success to a more realistic standard.  A two or three year run is a very respectable achievement for any show, and as those become more standard it should prompt producers to begin budgeting their upcoming productions accordingly.  This way, we should be treated to a steady stream of new shows that will keep Broadway artistically vibrant while ensuring our next generation of writers are fully nurtured and supported.  And that will benefit us all in the long run.