Life and Theatre are both best when viewed from 13th row center: Kije at MXAT

If you know me really well, then you’ve seen me grumpy. I say this because generally the only people I afflict the Grumpy Sara with are those who will love me unconditionally, aka my parents and best friends. Sometimes they even think it’s cute. If we are friends but I’m not sure about the unconditional love thing, then I’ll just be kind of surly and quiet because I don’t want to say something I will regret and would rather just fester in my grumpiness until it passes. But I don’t like to stay grumpy for long, so these times are few and far between.

I have been a little grumpy lately. Why? Two main reasons: first, I have yet to get an uninterrupted solid 8 hours of sleep (and rarely more than 7) because my room gets insanely hot in the night. So unlike College Sara who could pull all-nighters like it was nobody’s business and still bring her almost-A-game, I’m feeling tired and not at my prime. Second, because I did something to painfully mess up my Achilles heels and only the unfashionable-in-Moscow-sneakers feel comfortable. Sneakers are also not appropriate theatre-footwear.

So I was not happy about both of these things tonight when we went to see Kije (soft J sound) at MXAT’s small stage, and upon finding out that we were sitting in the front row, my inner diva threw an inner temper tantrum. I hate sitting in the front row. There’s always the chance that the actors will awkwardly interact with you (and in Russian that could be a problem since I would have no clue what they want), but more importantly, these are NOT the best seats in the house. I really enjoy being able to take in the whole stage picture—it’s like it’s own work of art, especially when you don’t know what the words the actors are saying mean. You need to be able to take it all in visually. My mom likes to say how life is best viewed from thirteenth row center, and it’s true in theatre too.

Watching Serebrennikov’s production of Kije from the first row eventually became an exercise for me in not being a baby. The same director who did Threepenny Opera, its ambient and classically mixed soundscapes, white costumes and set covered in talcum powder were all stunning. About 2/3rds of the way through (and unfortunately, 2/3rds too late), I finally realized: this show is amazing and I am wasting my time complaining to myself about how I’m tired and sitting in the front row. I kept blaming the brief synopsis we had read for my lack of narrative comprehension, but really I only had myself to blame. I’m not going to understand the Russian language in these plays, but if I don’t stress out about that it often won’t matter. Tonight I learned something important. Even if you’re physically sitting front row center, you can always mentally move back a few rows.