Also, the pretty green seats are as hard as church pews, and the rows afford less leg room than airline coach class. This highly touted high-tech "theater machine" was made for the artists, not the audience.

To get to the seats, it's 35 steps up a dimly lit staircase to reach the first audience level. It's 35 more up an even darker set of stairs to the second balcony. Or there are elevators, which may or may not let you off at the right floor.

You could end up trapped, as I did, in the tiny dark vault between the closed elevator doors and the door onto the balcony. This happened at the end of intermission at the Midsummer matinee. I stepped alone off the elevator on the top balcony, the doors glided shut behind me and when I turned the handle on the door into the theater, it was locked—gulp. There was no button to recall the elevator. I knocked loudly. Nothing. I heard the second act music start. Rising panic. I pushed what appeared to be an emergency button and heard a robo-voice say, "Your call has been recorded." Still nothing. Long minutes went by. The elevator finally came back up. I rode down and climbed 70 steps in darkness back to the top balcony.

Oh, what fools these portals be.