Tips for a greater Great White Way

Life is very good on Broadway these days. Grosses are up. Even more impressive, though less easily quantified, quality is up, too. What's more, just weeks after the Tony Awards marked the close of an unusually strong spring, the fall is shaping up fast with serious new enticements.

With so much going so well, it seems a civilized time to suggest ways that producers and theater owners can make Broadway a better experience for theatergoers. I'm not talking about advances already made in ticket-buying on the Internet and self-promotion on social media. I'm talking about making Broadway more people-friendly -- not with pedestrian plazas and traffic rerouting, but by facing issues that might actually be felt by the growing number of people in the seats. This includes the growing number of people wedged into those little seats (more on those later).

Some things, like the scarcity of leg and butt space, will take investments of time and money to fix. Other changes of attitude and amenities should be much simpler.

Below are some of my suggestions. Those of you who have been to a Broadway theater lately will likely have your own. But who knows? It's a high-risk business and it's hard to blame producers for raking in the gold when they can. But now that theaters have figured out ways to enlarge the number of stalls in their ladies' rooms, let's believe that anything is possible.

MANDATE THE COFFEE MACHINE

Some theaters sell coffee at the concession stands. Most do not. Of course, all sell alcohol, and most now let people take drinks to their seats with the purchase of a (costly) "souvenir" no-spill cup. Fine. But what about people who would rather be caffeinated, hoping their intoxication will come from the stage?

KILL THE LINE

Not so long ago, it was only tourists at "The Phantom of the Opera" who instinctively formed a line outside the theater, even though they already had tickets and just wanted to get in. Theater regulars could smile indulgently, figuring that the peculiar strangers had arrived single file from buses and arranged themselves, out of habit, in such orderly fashion across West 44th Street and around Eighth Avenue.

But now New Yorkers, a species that proudly thrives on survival amid chaos, are expected to join passive lines, regardless of weather, outside more and more theaters. What gives? Generations of theatergoers have gotten through the human-sized doors of countless huge hits without being herded -- worse, bullied by security -- into mindless docility. If producers think they are saving money on the number of ticket takers, they need to appreciate better the independent spirit of theater lovers. I suggest mutiny at the barricades (or waiting in front until the sheep are in).

RETURN TO DISCOUNTING PREVIEWS

The subject of previews reared its muddled head when "Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark" managed to practice in public for more than 180 performances before the thing was officially declared open.

The city's Department of Consumer Affairs did eventually remind the producers to label their practice sessions, but government cannot regulate pricing. Still, wouldn't it be fair and reasonable to go back to the days when previews -- that is, public run-throughs -- cost less than a ticket to the finished product?

Previews used to be a trade-off. A customer took the chance on an unproven show before it was declared good enough for the after-party and the professional critics. In return, playwrights and actors could bounce off a living, breathing audience -- paying customers who paid less because they were, in effect, working for the producers.

Nobody knows exactly when discount previews became ancient history, but it has been 24 years since I complained in 1987 that "Starlight Express" was charging the full price of -- get this, $47.50 -- during extended previews. As producers told me then, their costs are the same, if not greater, while they work during previews.

This never struck me as the customer's problem, any more than the audience should pay a "facilities fee" on each ticket so landlords can clean their real estate. If critics would review a show the moment it charges full fare (which, at this point, is at first preview), I bet low-priced previews would get trendy again.

STOP DISCRIMINATING AGAINST SINGLES

It's bad enough that some theaters charge extra for an aisle seat ($27 more for "The Book of Mormon," $25 for "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying," $15 for "Hair"). But did you know that these aisle seats are only sold as a pair -- both at the higher price? First offense is that the second seat -- what I unkindly call "the wife seat" -- costs that much more, even without the guaranteed armrest and an unobstructed view. But worse, why should a solitary theatergoer be required to bring a date to enjoy the privilege of paying extra for the armrest and the view?

SPEAKING OF PREMIUM SEATS

Now that producers are able to charge substantially more ($263 instead of $150 for a weekend evening of "The Lion King," $352-$477 instead of $155 for a weekend evening of "The Book of Mormon") for the most desirable seats to hit shows, how seriously should we take Broadway's proud new boffo grosses?

SEATS IN GENERAL

At least airlines give you extra legroom for a premium ticket. The seats in almost all Broadway theaters -- especially the gorgeous old ones we love so much -- have no relationship to the size of modern people and/or the size of the investment.

Thanks to the Internet, squashed theatergoers are getting louder about the narrow widths and blood-clotting leg space. Specific theaters are being named. Someone recently suggested the need for a theatrical counterpart to seatguru.com, the site that lists the dimensions and liabilities of all seats on almost all the airlines.

According to a 2004 article in Variety, for example, The Winter Garden Theatre, converted from a horse market in 1911, sat 1,404 in 1961. The capacity for "Cats" in the early '80s grew to 1,482. For "Mamma Mia!" producers now squeeze in 1,498.

Perhaps it's time to use that "facilities fee" to make theatergoing at least as comfortable as a seat at the movies.