[If you talk, do we not want to punch you in the nose?]

Last night I had a free ticket (see, Facebook is good for something) to see The Merchant of Venice. It is, amazingly, a play I’ve never seen before, and I was surprised to discover it was a comedy. In my head, it was the tragedy of Shylock. We all, even English major librarians, have things to learn.

I quite enjoyed the production, set against the crash of ’29. I think that Seattle Shakes was responsible for the disaster that was Twelfth Night on a boat (it begins with a shipwreck, for the love) so it was nice to see them try a concept that worked. Also, that goes to show how long it’s been since I’ve seen something there. Mortifying, though I suppose there’s a reason why “see more theater” was a resolution this year.

Anyway. I was particularly impressed to learn that Melanie Moser, who shone as Jessica, is a Cornish intern at the Company. I was much less impressed with the Seattle audience. For them, a few notes after the jump.

1) Jeans & a hoodie? Really. To see Shakespeare. That’s the best you can do? There perhaps ought to be a dress code. I am willing to bet that if you eliminated everyone who wore jeans, the other six items would be far less of an issue.

2) If you could refrain from talking, please. Special hell, remember. Yes, even from talking about the play. This also goes for the woman who sat in front of me at Hello, Dolly! last week. I heard the line reading the first time. You don’t need to repeat it.

3) No charm bracelets, or any other accouterments that make a bloody racket every time you shift in your seat.

4) And at least *try* to sit still. For a minute. See how it goes. The ten year old in front of me last week managed it for the entire production, so I am pretty sure you can handle it too. If you are coughing so hard it shakes the entire row, maybe you should consider staying home to avoid spreading the plague.

5) When two men kiss, be it serious or comic or something in between, please refrain from shrieking in horror, burying your face in your friend’s shoulder, etc.

6) No takeaway in the theater. Just because it’s Venice doesn’t mean I need to smell your pizza for the entire first half of the play.

7) I don’t need to listen to you suck enthusiastically on a giant jawbreaker either. In case you were wondering.

(Confidential to whoever in my neighborhood named their router “der wafflehaus”: can we be BFF? To the owner of “bingolittle”, that goes double for you, old fruit.)