NB: A version of this column appeared today in Business to Business.
Don’t tell Child Protective Services, but I occasionally let Connery watch Monty Python. We watch it on YouTube, the named-in-a-lawsuit site containing more digital video than you could watch in a lifetime, including important and historic events such as the Fish-Slapping Dance.
I shouldn’t be surprised that he likes it. The first song he ever learned to sing in harmony with us was the legendary British comedy troupe’s “Lumberjack Song” because, frankly, how many times can you sing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” without getting bored? Besides, the word “larch” is funny without my having to do anything at all.
All of which is a long-winded way of getting to my main point: the delicate place where business meets age-appropriateness. We’ll call it Spamalot for short.
My parents—leading the charge of the multi-generational travel trend among Baby Boomers—have decided to take their kids and grandkids to Las Vegas to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. Part of the reason we’re going this spring is that the musical Spamalot—which publicity describes as “a musical lovingly ripped off from the motion picture Monty Python and the Holy Grail”—is playing there starting next month. (Clearly, the desire to share British humor—or should I say humour--with my child didn’t occur in a vacuum.) We didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition when it came time to buy tickets, but as it turns out, the Spamalot box office won’t sell us any for the youngest generation, which includes my Monty Python-loving son.
In fact, they won’t sell tickets to be used by anyone under the age of 8. Not if you beg and plead. Not if you promise to run quickly and quietly for the exits in the case of child meltdown. Not if you explain patiently that you know the show and agree that there are parts that might be offensive but pledge that you will not sue them for recklessly exposing your child to fart jokes.
It was an interesting contrast for me, since I had only a few months ago called the box office of the Intermountain Opera Association to ask about taking my son to see their production of The Mikado. The man I talked with there was not only willing to give us a ticket for my son but was also actively encouraging about exposing children to live theater—as long as the other patrons and the performers were not disturbed. Fair enough, and certainly a rule we follow whether at The Mikado or Mackenzie River Pizza. We ended up going to a wonderful matinee performance, and we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Connery still talks about going and loves to listen to the CD.
I guess you could argue that The Mikado—lacking as it is in fart jokes—is more suitable fare for a small child. That may be true, but shouldn’t I, as the parent of the small child in question, get to decide what is appropriate?
The show’s seemingly arbitrary restriction made us seriously consider calling off the entire trip, a decision that would represent a loss to Vegas businesses of the airfare, hotel rooms, show tickets, and meals planned for six adults and two children. I guess it’s nothing to the booming economy of Las Vegas, but it is a big deal for two retired teachers and their kids who wanted to celebrate a big milestone.
Given attempts to recast glitzy Las Vegas as a family vacation destination, the response we’ve gotten is odd. How much better would it be for them to take the Intermountain Opera approach? Recognize the inherent risks in having kids at a live show, discuss it with the parents up front and then work like crazy to get kids hooked on all theater when they’re young. The Baby Boomers might be the ones buying the tickets now, but that won’t last forever. And in a world in which almost any video can be found with a Google search and a high-speed connection, live performance is going to need all the audience loyalty it can muster.