Many years ago, the mother of a friend from university called me and asked if I would like to accompany her to the Vienna English Theatre. She had a subscription, her husband was unable to come. I happily agreed, but forgot to ask which play was being performed. But before I picked up the phone again to ask, I realized that it was Advent – what else would this theater be performing at this time of year apart from A Christmas Carol? I didn’t inquire, didn’t look at the evening poster, didn’t read the program. I was absolutely convinced that I was going to see A Christmas Carol. Nobody can imagine the look on my face when the curtain went up and a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream began. The performance was very good, but how was a forest idyll between Midsummer’s Day and solstice supposed to get me in the mood for elfs, snow magic, mulled wine and cookies?
On the occasion of our traditional Advent trip this year, I once again came across the works of Mr. Shakespeare. No, not A Winter’s Tale – that would have fitted thematically. The atmospheric play that was to awaken my Christmas anticipation was: Macbeth! After all, Titus Andronicus would have been even worse.
So after Hamburg, Paris and Basel, we headed to London this December – an idea that millions of other people besides me had come up with. At least that’s how it felt when we arrived at Piccadilly Circus at lunchtime. Crowds of people met more crowds of people. At Covent Garden, the tube station was already closed due to overcrowding. Luckily, we had booked an afternoon tea at the Royal Theatre Drury Lane and escaped the hustle and bustle. For a theater scholar, any theater is a magical place, but this one is special in many ways: it’s one of the longest continuously performed theaters in London, it’s home to the most ghosts, and it’s been visited by every English monarch since Charles II. Afternoon tea there was an all-round feel-good experience: excellent service, stylish ambience with in-house china, delicious food and good tea – surrounded by theater history. It couldn’t get much better, I thought. But the evening was to prove me wrong.
There are around 40 theaters in London’s West End alone, but I always end up at the Harold Pinter Theatre. This time, however, I discovered something new: the so-called Ambassador Lounge. I had unwittingly purchased an admisson with my theater ticket. That happend during the hectic circumstances of the ticket purchase. As soon as the online sale had started, I was 8,317th in the queue. When it was finally my turn, I only had a tiny window of time to choose seats. At the same time, I tried to get tickets for another date with a second account. I only noticed additional packages after I had happily printed out my tickets.
About an hour before the performance began, I was shown to my reserved seat in an area separate from the “normal” visitors. With kindred spirits, I enjoyed cheese, crackers, ice cream – and not a little champagne. I felt very spoiled. The two biggest advantages, however, were a separate toilet for lounge visitors and the opportunity to hand in my wardrobe. That would have been helpful two evenings later when I had purchased a less exclusive additional package: with my ticket I got a bottle of champagne, a glass, a cup of ice cream and a program booklet at the bar – balancing all this, I just about made it to my seat, where I had to put myself and my winter jacket in addition to all these things.
Now I should probably tell you what the performance of Macbeth directed by Max Webster with David Tennant and Cush Jumbo was like. But I am still at a loss for words. 'Breathtaking' or 'overwhelming' don’t begin to describe this perfect symbiosis of acting and directing.
As enthusiastic as I was about my evening out, pre-Christmas London was a sobering experience. The Christmas decorations were lavish, but mostly rather off-putting – especially the lighting around Piccadilly.
Even the exclusive department store Fortnum & Mason with its famous Christmas department was a disappointment. At least the façade, which was designed as a large Advent calendar, was original. Hamley’s, the oldest toy store in the world, was much more fun. Regardless of your age, you can become a child again there. In the evening, it was impossible to stroll through a Christmas market without being crushed by the crowds. But even during the day, the atmosphere was only partly festive.
Covent Garden was an exception: There, the Christmas decorations were so gigantic that they seemed successful again. But quite frankly, if David Tennant isn’t in the theater, you don’t necessarily have to travel to London during Advent.
