How Can We Make Broadway Cheaper Without Making It Worse? Part 3: The Right Way to Say Yes to Sponsors
by Chris Peterson
Broadway is expensive. That is not new. But in recent years, the sticker shock has become almost surreal. $200 for a midweek orchestra seat, $800 premiums for buzzy musicals, and a rush ticket system that feels more like a lottery than a legitimate access point. For many theatre lovers, the dream of seeing a Broadway show has started to feel out of reach.
And yet, for all the conversations about how costly Broadway has become, what is often missing are solutions. We hear a lot of frustration, a lot of finger-pointing, and a lot of defeatist thinking. The debate tends to land in one of two extremes. Either it is "that is showbiz, if you cannot afford it, too bad," or "just cut everything and throw a bare-bones version on a folding chair." Neither is helpful, and neither is sustainable.
What I am interested in is the middle ground. I want to explore how we can make it more affordable to see a Broadway show without making it worse with AI-designed sets and musician-less musicals. The ideas I will be presenting in this multi-part series, released over the course of this week, are not revolutionary. In fact, I am sure I am not the first person to suggest them. But they are practical, achievable changes that could lower costs, improve working conditions, and expand access, all while preserving the artistic integrity that makes Broadway worth caring about in the first place.
Click on the links below to check out the earlier installments of this series.
Part 3: The Right Way to Say Yes to Sponsors
Let’s talk about something that always stirs up strong feelings in theatre circles. Corporate sponsorship.
Just the mention of it makes some people uneasy. And I understand why. No one is asking for a glowing Amazon logo projected on the curtain before the overture. We love the idea of Broadway as a sacred space for artists, and there is something noble about protecting that. But we are also living in a time where simply breaking even feels like a win. If we truly want Broadway to be sustainable, to grow, to welcome new voices and new audiences, then we have to open ourselves to new ideas. And yes, that might mean new partnerships.
Corporate sponsorship is nothing new in the arts. Museums have embraced it for decades. Ballet companies rely on it. Opera houses are named after it. The Met Gala is a designer-sponsored showcase of culture and costume. And yet on Broadway, the idea still feels taboo. As if involving brands in any way somehow betrays the art.
But what if it didn’t?
What if the right kind of sponsorship actually supported the art without overshadowing it? What if it allowed us to lower production costs, expand outreach, and maybe, just maybe, make ticket prices more accessible?
I am not suggesting we put logos on the proscenium or interrupt the second act with a product placement. I am talking about partnerships that make sense. Sponsorships that align with the message and spirit of the show. A brand that adds value, not noise.
Picture a fashion-focused musical partnered with a design house that underwrites the costume budget. Imagine the buzz that would generate, the potential for exclusive merch or behind-the-scenes access, all while keeping the art intact. Or think about a tech-forward show that partners with an innovation brand to support special effects, AR experiences, or immersive scenic work. Or a nonprofit mental health organization backing a play about trauma recovery, offering post-show discussions and real community resources. These are not theoretical examples. They are partnerships that could deepen impact while easing the financial burden that so often limits what gets made.
Of course, there is a real and valid concern here. Some worry that brands do not understand theatre. That they will expect input on content or demand visibility in ways that dilute the artistic vision. But that is not inevitable. The key is choosing the right partners. Sponsors need to understand their role—to support, not shape. The producer sets the tone. Boundaries must be clear from the start. And truthfully, these conversations are already happening behind closed doors. Sponsorship just makes them more transparent.
Another critique I have heard is that corporate money only benefits the top. That producers will pad their margins while the artists continue to scrape by. And yes, in a broken model, that could happen. But it does not have to. A thoughtful partnership can directly fund the design team. It can cover a longer rehearsal period. It can support mental health resources, community engagement, or even subsidize affordable ticket blocks. This funding can go exactly where it is needed, but only if we structure it that way and lead with intention.
There is also the broader fear that this invites even more commercial influence into an already commercial space. That it accelerates the trend of shaping art around marketability rather than message. But here is the truth that makes people uncomfortable. That influence is already here. Broadway is a commercial industry. Every revival, every celebrity-led production, every premium ticket package is shaped by economics. Pretending otherwise does not protect the art. It just blinds us to how decisions are already being made. Instead of resisting the presence of money, what if we focused on using it more ethically? More artistically? More transparently?
And then there is the big one. The fear that sponsorship, no matter how tastefully done, will compromise the integrity of the work. That it will somehow tarnish the magic. But artistic compromise happens for all sorts of reasons. It happens when a show has to cut a set piece because it cannot be afforded. It happens when a workshop is rushed or a score is changed to please an investor. What if corporate sponsorship, when structured with clear creative boundaries, could actually reduce those compromises? What if it gave artists more freedom, not less?
Let’s be honest. Theatre has always needed patrons. Whether it was royal courts, philanthropists, or generous subscribers, we have always relied on outside support. Corporate sponsorship is simply the modern version of that. The difference is that we now have a chance to do it with values. With intention. With the kind of clarity that protects both the art and the people making it.
I am not saying every show needs a sponsor. And not every brand deserves to be in the room. But for the right project, with the right partner, a sponsorship can be the difference between a show barely getting off the ground and a show soaring. It can reduce ticket prices. It can increase access. It can make Broadway a little more equitable without making it feel any less special.
The future of Broadway is not going to look like the past. And maybe that is okay. Maybe it is better. Maybe it is more sustainable, more inclusive, more adaptable. Not just in who we see on stage, but in how we get people into the seats.
Let’s stop treating sponsorship like a dirty word. Let’s reframe it as support. Let’s be bold enough to ask for help and smart enough to know how to receive it. Let’s not just be creative on stage, let’s be creative in how we make theatre possible.
Because if it keeps the lights on, if it brings the stories to life, and if it helps welcome audiences who otherwise could not afford to be there, then that feels like a win worth pursuing.