Shudder

Alison Croggon responds to the suggestion of pre-show "ads":

*Shudder* My local cinema doesn't show ads, and so I go there all the time. I find ads before movies offensive enough. Yes, why not? Product placement on stage, ads before, at interval, etc. So much for that breathless, magic moment when the lights go down and the entire possibility of theatre hangs in the darkness...

I know, I know. And yet... I keep finding myself thinking of Lopakhin's desperate attempts to persuade Madame Ranevskaya to save her home by building tourist cottages. She keeps brushing him off by saying "But cottages -- how vulgar." Consider me a 21st-century Lopakhin flapping my arms and begging our theatrical Lyubimovs and Gaevs to do something or the whole thing will be lost. Of course, you know what happens in the play -- Lyubimov and Gaev continue in their attitude of denial and the cherry orchard is lost. Here's a test: can we learn from theatre?

To Hell With 'Em

MattJ provides a poignant response to my post "On Walls and Bunkers":

"I have mixed feelings about some of this I guess. One sentence from Clancy writes that young artists, since they are busy "finding their voice" (an idea I am not trying to dominish), have very little intellectual resources to contribute to a radical reconstruction of the downtown theatre scene. As one such person, who is of course looking for a voice like the rest, I feel as if I have nothing but resources to offer. It's not a lack of desire, will, strength, drive, etc. It's the need to prove to the existing theratre community of my own merits. The marginalization of theatre has led to a faction of sorts that closes in on itself, needing to be "broken into." It is thatvery insularity which shields out the young artist until they get some kind of break, because it's all based on who ya know. A professor of mine recently said to me "Matt, I think you're really talented. I really do. But, unfortunately, you're not going to get jobs based on your talent for a long time." It's a bit discouraging."

Yes, I think it is a bit discouraging, too, but for another reason entirely: just what the hell was this professor saying? Not only why would you say this to a young person with talent and motivation, but what is the underlying assumption? I'm certain this professor was trying to be "realistic," and thought he was doing Matt a favor, but think about what he is saying! Name another cutting-edge, innovative industry in this nation that 1) ignores young talent, 2) doesn't take advantage of the innovative ideas such young people have to offer, and 3) thinks it is doing young people a favor by pouring water on enthusiasm!

Matt, I say this: to hell with 'em. Not just this professor, but this general attitude that permeates our theatre education system. Don't think of yourself as having to wait for somebody to give you permission to innovate and create -- if the tech industry did that, Jobs and Gates would be middle managers at IBM waiting for permission to do something other than punchcard data entry and we'd be writing letters to each other via snailmail. The current theatre is moribund -- think in a new way. Look at the TCG listings for the regional theatres -- is that really what you aspire to? Is that really what is going to save theatre from creeping irrelevance? Think of a new way! Jobs and Gates worked in their garage -- what is the theatrical version of a garage? Hell, it may even be a garage! Or a spare bedroom. Or a homeless shelter. Or... who knows? Dare to innovate. Look at the "stuff" of theatre and ask whether there would be a new way to put it together that would be exciting and new. Turn things upside down and inside out -- throw the baby and the bathwater out and start over. Don't let these so-called realists get you down, don't cut your creativity to suit the times -- start your own revolution!

Why Not?

In today's NYT, under the headline "Enter Stage Right: Live Advertisements," Campbell Robertson writes: "Seven fifty-five p.m. A moment, in theater, of whispered anticipation, of studying Playbills, of turning off cellphones. And a perfect time, before a performance of "Stomp" at the Orpheum Theater in the East Village last night, for a commercial. "Give me a picture of the London scene," said an actress in the audience on her cellphone, supposedly talking to her daughter in London on the eve of her own trip there. No, to answer your question, there is nothing sacred."

But after my initial kneejerk reaction, I wondered: why not? Theatre isn't church, as much as we often talk about it as if it were. We're used to ads before films -- what makes us so damned special? Hell, why not use this time to promote other theatre, sort of like Amazon does with its recommendations for other books. "If you like this play, you'd also like..." and then pitch some Off-Off Broadway production. This could be the theatrical version of the Long Tail in action, and actually be a way for theatres to support each other. Sure, we could put it in the program, but why when, as Ken Kelling (the communications dfirector of the Visit London program) said, "They're a captive audience. They can't switch channels or change over or walk out once the thing is started." Exactly. To hell with our purity, these are desperate times. Consider the possibilities!

"Profitable" Meaning...?

From Campbell Robertson's NY Times article on the closing of Lestat: "the news of the demise of "Lestat" is only the latest in a two-week tally of theater closings that caps one of the most profitable Broadway seasons in history."

Profitable, as used here, seems to indicate a sense of health. But really...what other way might we define health that would give a truer picture of the wheezing dullness that Broadway has become?

On Walls and Bunkers

I've been following John Clancy's attempts to create a League of Independent Producers (I love the acronym), because he is dealing with a very, very important issue: the means of production. IMO the way we create theatre in this country is inartistic at best, and bizarre at worst. I sometimes find myself wondering what would happen to the novel if novelists had to work under similar conditions to theatre artists, i.e., with rules concerning how many hours a week they could write, when those hours could be, how many weeks they could work on a novel, when they had to take a break, etc. Or what about painters. Or poets. Our current "system" of production reflects the industrial age in which it came into being: there are "workers" and "bosses" who are creating a "product." It is a wonder that anything worthwhile gets created under those circumstances, and I think theatre artists should take a bow for that. But only a brief bow, because all hell has broken loose.

Things are changing. No, things have changed. They have changed everywhere in our society except in the theatre, which seems to think we can stay in our bunkers (using Clancy's excellent term -- read the whole post here) and hope all this change will go away. As SpearBearer wrote back in December, "I'm sticking with my general philosophy. As long as the actors don't quit, there will be theatre. And if there's one person in the audience, the show will go on." SpearBearer was right about one thing: pretty soon there will be one person in the audience -- probably another theatre person. Back in December, I wrote that theatre is conservative. I still think that is true, but I think that conservatism is a symptom, not the disease.

The disease is desperation.

Clancy writes: "Activism or organizing or agitating or whatever it is I'm doing when I talk out about a new League of Independent Producers, or a new Alternative Touring Circuit, takes time and thought and energy. Most theater artists in New York have a precious small supply of these three things and choose, wisely, to spend them on their work. This is especially true of younger artists still chasing their own voices and visions. So those with the most to gain from a systemic change in the Off-Off or indie world, the younger artists, have the least amount of resources to contribute." Well said, and so true. After reading this, I found myself thinking about Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Because of the desperate financial situation, most artists find themselves scrambling just to realize their physiological needs at the lowest level of the pyramid -- rent, food, clothing, and all the absurdly expensive things it takes to work in the theatre (e.g., headshots, classes, clothing, etc.). There isn't time, thought, and energy available evaluate abstractions like the means of production -- they're running as fast as they can just to stay alive. But the BBW (Big Bad World) is leaving us in the dust. It isn't enough to stay alive -- we need to do something, or we're gonna die.

Clancy's efforts are a crucial first step. What are the next steps?

U.S. Army Chief of Staff (1999-2003) Eric Shinseki once said, "If you don't like change, you're going to like irrelevance even less." Because we have refused to change our means of production, our relation to the customer (get over it -- if you sell a ticket, those who buy are customers), our sense of purpose, theatre has become increasingly irrelevant. It may be almost totally irelevant already. We need to be reading books like The World Is Flat , and The Experience Economy and The Long Tail and Re-Imagine and The Wisdom of Crowds figuring out how the hell they apply to what we do before we get Netflixed out of business. And rightfully so, if we can't come up with a way of creating art that reflects the 21st century. We need to get out of the Theatre section at Barnes and Noble and take a look at the Business section, because business long ago realized that constant and aggressive change is the only way to survive. Not in theatre -- we spend our time asking the world to change its attitude toward us, whining about the lack of public funding and the supposed shallowness of our audience and the crass anti-intellectualism of the American public. Get over it! The problem is the theatre, not the public! The enemy is in the mirror, even if A Chorus Line didn't mention it.

We need to destroy and reinvent ourselves, and now. Incrementalism is the enemy, because the crisis is here. Tom Peters, in Re-Imagine! writes, "I sincerely believe that in turbulent times bosses at all levels and at all ages ultimately earn their keep by Blowing Things Up and Inventing a New Way...not by preserving and (merely) Making Better the Old Way." It's too late to tinker; it's time to destroy and build anew.

What's the New Way? I don't know. I have a few clues, which I'll try to develop through this blog. But we need to channel a little of that vaunted creativity toward something other than the next show. John Clancy has started the ball rolling. Who's next?

What???

Christopher Isherwood ends his review of "columbinus," a play the NYTW about the Columbine killings, with the following: "The phenomenon we confront in these little monsters, it seems to me, is one that neither journalism nor theater can analyze with satisfaction. It's the problem of evil. Better to leave that one to philosophers."

Leave the problem of evil to philosophers? Tell it to Shakespeare, Webster, Middleton, Ford right up to Labute. I know writing overnight reviews is difficult, and finding a tag line to finish with is particularly difficult, but come on, Christopher, at least avoid writing really, really stupid things!

[Yes, I'm back.]

All Done

Dear Readers -- I think this blog has run its course. Surfing the blogosphere, I find my ideas are not inspiring others, but instead irritating them, and lately the feeling is mutual. Time to call it a day.

I have only been writing for six months, but in that time, it seems to me that something has changed. I don't know for certain, but it seems to me that the changed can be dated to the My Name Is Rachel Corrie controversy. Don't get me wrong -- I think the controversy was necessary. But I also think that the tone changed at that point. Suddenly, things got contentious, and everybody (including me) felt the need to "take a stand." Once that happened, and once the blogosphere drew the attention of the national media, it felt to me as if the nature of the blogging community changed in a way that made me uncomfortable. I found myself drawn into debates and getting all red-faced about "issues," when what I really wanted to do was talk about something else. My point is not that the blogosphere shouldn't have gone in the direction that it did, but rather that it has moved in a direction that is not good for me.

My interests are very abstract, I suppose -- theatrical metaphysics, I suppose, or possibly theology. I am concerned about the disposition of the theatrical soul.

Over the course of the months, I developed certain themes. They grew out of a very grim underlying assumption: that unless something significant changes, the theatre will go the way of horse-drawn carriages and Amtrak. I believe that, without a creative re-visioning, the combination of economics and competing entertainment options will make the theatre increasingly irrelevant and unimportant.

From this central idea came several other themes:

1. That the education of theatre practitioners needs to be focused, not on creating practitioners who can fit into and succeed in the current theatre, but on creating theatrical iconoclasts who can, like Descartes did with philosophy, start at a theatrical Ground Zero and build. I feel as if training students to fit into today's theatre is as immoral as training students to do punchcard data entry.
2. That theatre is a local, not a national experience, and so there should be a difference between theatre in different parts of the country. Artists should be a part of the community in which they live, and create theatre that speaks to the people in their theatres, not some imagined "national audience."
3. That what the audience needs right now is intelligence and wisdom and depth. I called for artists to consider whether provocation has become an end in itself, and whether we have stopped talking to our audience and instead started talking at them.
4. That the thing that makes theatre unique is the presence of the actor and the spectator in the same space at the same time, and that the opportunities presented by this fact should be exploited.

Over the course of six months, I am surprised to say that most of what I wrote was a variation on these themes. And now I find myself with little new to say in a new conversational environment that emphasizes debate over discussion. As a result, I have found myself developing a blogging personality that was strident, judgmental, and hypercritical. In short, I had become someone I didn't like. Most of you didn't like this new personality, either, and it had gotten to a point where nearly everything I posted was greeted with derision and attack.

And so rather than continue this slide into John Simon-hood, I think it is best to fall silent for a while. I may be back some day, and if I am, it will be with a new blog. I will leave this one on-line, at least for a while, for anyone who happens to stumble on it and wants to wade through the archives.

Thank you to everyone who made it a lively ride. I have enjoyed your company. Good luck with your projects.