Hollywood. This was the city where stars were born and stories came to life on the big-screen, and where the streets were “paved with gold.” At least, that is what I thought in 1998 when my family traveled to Hollywood to watch The Lion King (the musical) performed on-stage. I’ll never know how my Aunts were able to afford the $80 dollar tickets to the show—a gift for which I am still grateful—but they saved enough to pay for seven seats. They were impressed by any show that won a Tony award, and The Lion King had received special attention at the awards that same year. At ten years old, the significance of a Tony award mattered little to me. I was just happy to see my favorite movie since elementary school done on Broadway.
Watching my favorite movie on Broadway in Hollywood, the land of old movie stars, was a dream come true. I expected the long drive it took to reach Hollywood from Anza thinking as every mile flew past that we were closer and closer to the El Dorado of California. In my imagination the city would radiate majesty and beauty. What I did not expect was the lack of all this—the aged buildings that stood several stories high and seemed to lean on each other for support, or the faded hue to the sidewalks and store fronts. Hollywood was the first city filled with very tall buildings I had ever seen, but my amazement with that did not lessen my disappointment. The general atmosphere of Hollywood felt tired and worn, like it wanted nothing more than to rest after years of reigning from its pedestal of glory. Even the stars on the walk of fame looked dusty, as if spiders and their webs would take up residence there if the occasional visitor did not walk over the names (I was looking for Kermit the Frog, by the way).
I watched a woman, who resembled the bird lady from Mary Poppins in her knitted stocking cap and bulky trench coat, save an injured pigeon. That was interesting.
After our stroll down the Hollywood Walk of Fame, my family came to the Pantages Theater, where the Lion King would take place. We brought out our tickets and handed them to a well-dressed man at the entrance. Entering the main lobby of the Pantages Theater was similar to entering an enormous ballroom. Stripped of the carpet, I thought it could very well be the same ballroom from Beauty and the Beast. I did not have much time to consider the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling, or to wonder what movie that reminded me of because before I knew it, my mother grabbed my hand and led me into the auditorium, commenting that the show would start soon.
The main auditorium was pitch-black save for two sets of lights on either side of each aisle, and with some difficulty we found our seats. I was towards the end of the row, beside the aisle, and our row was halfway into the wave of velvety red seats in the room. Then came that natural period of commotion, with everyone’s voices bouncing off the walls—and I shivered because it was chilly.
Finally, all the guests found their seats and quieted down as an actress came on stage, carrying a large walking stick. She was portraying the wise monkey Rafiki, and when she cried out the first line in “Circle of Life,” there was an explosion of lights over and around the stage. I’ll never forget how the room filled with warmth, or how I suddenly felt lost in the show. Lines of actors dressed in elaborate animal costumes came down the aisles. A papier-mâché bird with a long neck swooped overhead, and I could reach out and touch the elephants stomping past. The music, the lights, the actors, and my growing sense of wonder combined into pure delight and an unforgettable experience.
My earlier disappointment faded right then, and never came back. The Broadway show restored my happiness by letting me glimpse Hollywood as it really was today. It may have seemed faded and decrepit on the outside, but inside was where the city truly shone. Peeling my eyes from the stage and glancing at my family—my Aunts, parents, and older brother—I wondered if they shared my sentiment, and from their wide-eyed expressions, I believe they did.
