At the New York Musical Theatre Festival, you really suffer for their art.
There was so little air inside the theater for Flambe Dreams the other night that it was the only place in NYC where it was actually cooler outside.
The show–about a young maitre d’ whose father died during a flaming dessert accident–clearly had some cartoony cuteness, a la Enter Laughing, but I couldn’t really enjoy it since it seemed like the theater was trying to flambe the audience!
The sight of other audience members frantically fanning themselves and each other with the programs was also a tad distracting–and frustrating too, since not one of the gusts was coming my way to help create a livable situation.
Dripping with sweat and unwilling to strip naked in public, I had to leave at intermission, feeling that this festival is obviously aiming to make the Fringe fest look like a wind tunnel by comparison.
Yet, there’s talent up there and hopefully some people will stick it out and even applaud, to help make a breeze.