In today's world of non-stop entertainment, hi-tech prowess, and up-the-ante graphics, we are hard pressed to discover anything that stops us in our tracks and takes our breath away.
Look no further. The Majestic Theater in San Antonio lives up to its name, and all of the synonyms that my thesaurus can handle - lofty, stately, exalted, regal, illustrious, sublime, extraordinary, towering, overwhelming, awe-inspiring.
Anticipation builds as you turn on to Houston Street. Unless you are seeing a matinee, it is dark outside. Tonight, the mist makes the globe lights of the marquis bewitching.
The brick sidewalk leading to the theater bears the names of the many patrons that ponied up a total of $8 million dollars for the restoration and expansion of the 78-year-old theater. Later, you will want to look them up, and kiss their feet in thanks.
As you walk into the threshold, brick gives way to mosaic, and the tiny, colorful stones invite you into the enchantment that will grow with each step.
The Majestic reveals herself slowly, knowing that you won't be able to take the full impact all at once.
The wonder of the lobby would be enough, but theatergoers are streaming in through the intricately-carved, chocolate-colored doors, and your curiousity carries you through.
The mosaic floor has now transitioned into a tapestry floor, but by this time, your eyes are no longer with your feet.
The room buzzes as some people wander, some take their seats, some order a drink, and others pour over the evening's program. The air is thick with excitement.
Around you swirls elaborate scrollwork with shades of turquoise and burnt orange framed by gold. A glance at the low ceiling shows you that not one inch has been neglected. Stained glass and silver mini-domes adorn what you later learn is the bottom of the mezzanine section. As your eyes follow the lines of the ceiling, they lead you through the aisle, where you are suddenly struck with the beauty of the stage. Bordered by towering teal-and gold pillars on the side, and ornate carvings on the top, pulled together by a coat of arms in the center, you are now being lured deeper by the Majestic's beckoning finger.
"Come further," she says. "You have not seen all that I have to show you."
You follow, unable to resist the possibility that there is more.
You continue down the aisle, and are soon freed from the box that the mezzanine holds you in.
Suddenly, all of your sensory powers leave you to give strength to your eyes. You freeze for a moment, unable to move, unable to feel, unable to hear. Every bit of energy must be given to your vision, or else you will be unable to contain what is before you.
You are no longer in a theater. You are in an opulent Spanish palace courtyard. You turn a full 360 degrees, with a few pauses along the way. In front of you, you see in even more detail the splendor of the stage and proscenium. To your left and right, magnificent palace walls look down on you and strut their beauty. Nothing is humble. Each detail you take in flaunts its offerings to you, and each one is more spectacular than the last. Carvings, scrollwork, gilded surfaces, statues, doves, angels, Moorish arches, spindled balconies, and even a rare white peacock say, "Look at me! I am better than all the rest!" The presence of a peacock is fitting, for that is the proud animal that is most like the Majestic.
You glance towards the ceiling, looking for a little relief from all that there is to see. Oh, but the Majestic has saved the best for last.
"Ceiling" is such a common and repugnant name for such a wonder. It is colored shades of blue that are not found in any Crayola box, and it attempts to compete with God in the creation of an evening sky. Embedded lights twinkle for a starry effect and even clouds roll across hauntingly.
The mother-of-the-bride is not supposed to outshine her daughter. The Majestic, the body of the mother, takes none of this to heart as she boldly tells you that she is more splendid than the fruit of her womb, the stage.
The headliners, the shows, the symphonies that are born on her stage are temporarily exhilarating, but are no match for the commanding dowager. They fade and become distant and pleasant memories, but the Majestic captivates you, stays with you, and leaves you wanting more.
Did I mention that I saw a show last night? My apologies for making this an afterthought. Handel's "Messiah" was lovely, as good as the many shows that I've enjoyed in their Broadway offerings.
But come February 28, if anyone should ask me what my plans are for that afternoon, I won't be telling them that I'm going to go see "The Phantom of the Opera". I'll tell them, "I'm going to The Majestic."
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For a virtual tour and history of the theater, Visit the Majestic's Website!
Side note: If my descriptions seem over the top, it is because the Majestic IS over the top. I have been fortunate to see many theater productions in my life. As a past performer, I try to always get seats in the orchestra. I love seeing the actors' faces without binoculars, and to even see the sweat trickle down their faces. The acting and vocal abillity are everything to me. The Majestic is truly the only theater I've ever been in where I struggle with whether I should buy in the orchestra or mezzanine. The splendor of the theater is so great that it does indeed outshine whatever is on the stage. The best of both worlds is to sit in the mezzanine, and absorb the theater and stage all at once. Also - photos were taken from the Majestic website.
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