In English, "snakebit." You know the word—means unlucky, even cursed. In local Vegas Theatricalese—Sin City Serenade.
Most folks in these parts didn't know those words—at least not strung together as a proper title—largely explaining its early exit from the Centennial celebratory scene.
The original musical salute to our town (at least that was the idea), cobbled together by Las Vegas Little Theatre and partially funded by a Centennial grant, was scheduled for an unusually long run by local theater standards, normally two or three weekends and six to 12 shows, tops.
Serenade was set to open June 17 and close August 14, four performances per weekend (Thursdays through Sundays; dark July 3) for a whopping 34 shows over nine weekends.
But the production shuttered last weekend amid paltry box office, slicing off two weeks and eight performances. Factor in the intended opening weekend—when the theater's dimmer system conked out, sweeping away another set of shows—and that snake's bite packs some venom.
(Ticket-holders for cancelled performances were offered a refund or an exchange for tickets to other shows.)
Reviews were overall underwhelming toward Serenade, including that of the Weekly's pussycat of a critic, yours truly. (I praised the talented, hard-working cast but panned the show—a poorly-stitched-together revue that, rather than being Vegas-centric, treated the city as an afterthought to a structure-less stew of musical medleys.)
But LVLT President Walter Niejadlik sticks loyally by the hodgepodge's side.
"Artistically, we were extremely proud of this show—we have heard nothing but raves from audience members at the end of the show. They are all shocked that our audiences for this show have averaged at about 15, with 60 being the top-selling performance. I do believe that our poor ticket sales are definitely not the result of the artistic quality of this production. It's a shame that so much hard work went into the show and happens at every performance and everyone gives their all, even when playing to an audience of four."
Can't deflect the dedication argument. It's not, unfortunately, uncommon for LVLT—as well as the recently defunct SEAT Downtown—to perform to miniscule numbers of largely theater-avoiding Las Vegans, with cast and crew's families and friends and LVLT volunteers inflating the audience to give the intrepid, show-must-go-on-even-if-no-one-gives-a-flying-damn actors something more than silence to play against.
But more perplexing than the production itself was the notion that, even financially bolstered by a Centennial grant, a local theater board in Vegas thought it could draw patrons to nearly three dozen performances.
What were they thinking? Even if critics (and a pussycat) had been unanimously enthralled bordering on ecstatic, weren't LVLT's performing eyes bigger than our community-theater stomach?
"I always worry about attendance, even for a three-week show. Since we rely mainly on subscriptions and single tickets to fund the entire budget for the theater facility itself and each individual production, we didn't make the decision lightly," Niejadlik says.
"The main reason we felt we could run for nine weeks was because we were part of the Centennial. It was going to be this huge deal and Centennial-related events would be all over the media. Remember—this grant was applied for over a year in advance of the production. Unfortunately, that assumption proved wrong, at least in regard to our production. Also, a nine-week run covers most of the summer and would have reduced costs of mounting two shows over the summer months."
With nearly zero media attention and a modest advertising budget from which to squeeze drips and drabs of radio spots, Niejadlik says the LVLT board, in analyzing the failure, also considered the negative effects of a spike in ticket costs from last season (from $18 to $25 for adults, $15 to $22 for seniors), partially to defray the construction costs of its new digs this season.
To soothe the sting, LVLT offered two-for-one deals, corporate discounts and other incentives, which may be enough to support three-week runs, but not a show triple that length.
Media indifference, critical resistance, advertising absence.
Is this any way to treat a Centennial salute?
Still, the very idea that any local community theater would attempt this Evel Knievel-length leap of faith to envision noisy pre-show buzzing, thunderous curtain-call applause and crowded post-show lobbies—with or without promised publicity aid and regardless of the sizable risk to both its coffers and prestige as Vegas' longest-running theatrical troupe—is enough to arouse the optimist in any theatrical pessimist.