Is the Audience Alive?
At the beginning of the semester, I asked my Shakespeare on Film students if theatre is a dying art. Overwhelmingly, they argued it is not. These aren’t biased theatre students. These are students, traditional and nontraditional, from fields such as nursing and business who are taking the course to fulfill their arts requirement. But they see that theatre’s pulse, while occasionally thready, shows signs of continued life.
Despite their insistence that theatre’s still alive, these same students admitted they rarely, if ever, attend theatrical events. They blamed accessibility issues. They complained about the high costs of theatre tickets (they’re not wrong—I often miss performances I would otherwise see because the ticket prices are out of my range). They complained about local theatre companies’ lack of marketing; they easily know when movies are released, but they don’t know where to begin looking for locally-produced plays. Most of all, though, they complained about the inconvenience. Who, after all, would bother going out to a theatre when they can simply “click a few buttons on their remotes” from the “comfort of [their] own home”?
It’s this last complaint that concerns me most, and I don’t think the problem is limited to the theatrical world. Since the dawn of the internet, psychologists, sociologists, and the rest of us interested in human interaction have been debating whether said interaction has suffered due to increased use of technology as intermediary. Back in college, my political science professor assigned Bowling Alone, a book that, at the time, acted as a sort of harbinger of over-individualism. It warns of the consequences of growing isolation as our society becomes less and less communal.
It’s Not You, It’s Me. No Wait, It’s Us.
Young, idealistic, and actively involved on campus, I didn’t take the lesson too seriously then. But now I see the effects in my daily life. When I’m not teaching or involved in a production, I find myself disconnected from the world around me. The shy introvert in me feels comfortable as a homebody and satisfied expressing my thoughts to my family instead of the world. I actually have to remind myself to engage with others on Facebook or Twitter because I forget that lurking on social media isn’t actually the same thing as connecting.
As Bowling Alone points out, I’m apparently not the only one feeling this way. I have to wonder whether this trend toward isolation is the real reason my students don’t seek opportunities to see live theatre. From their comments, it sounds as though they don’t even go out to see movies much, not when there are DVDs and Blu-Rays and streaming movies they can watch in their bedrooms.
Just today I saw the trailer for a new documentary, The Rep, which follows a team of film buffs as they open and run their own repertory cinema in Toronto. Naturally, one of the obstacles they face is trying to attract an audience so they can make enough profit to keep the doors open. I suspect it’s an issue made more difficult by the fact that, as a repertory cinema, they don’t show the new releases backed by big marketing bucks. When a potential audience member can watch a film at home, why go (and pay) to see the same film at a movie theater?
Mmmm… Warm, Comfy Bed
The draw of the big screen isn’t enough. High definition, giant flat-screen TVs and surround sound systems make movie theater technology essentially moot. There is the impatience factor: many don’t want to wait several more months to see a highly-anticipated movie at home. But impatience (and subsequent profit margins) alone can’t explain why movie theaters still exist. There has to be something else drawing people in.
I think that something is the communal experience.
Humans are still inherently social creatures, and we like the validation of sharing our emotions with our peers. The communal experience is energizing. Watch any sporting event, from a pee-wee football game to the upcoming Olympics, and you’ll see the power of shared emotions. Fans react as though they have one mind. They ooh, aah, cheer, and groan simultaneously, spontaneously, alike. It’s part of the fun.
If you’re not a sports fan, look no further than social media during a popular television event such as, say, the “Breaking Bad” series finale. Fans of the show took to the ‘net in droves to share the wide range of emotions the episode evoked in them. Knowing there are others who have the same experience, who feel the same way, reminds us we’re part of something outside ourselves.
Live performance has an added social benefit that film and television can’t replicate. When we go to a play, ballet, opera, or concert, we share the experience not only with each other but also with the performers. We become a single community, feeding and feeding off of each others’ energy. It’s an emotion we can’t find elsewhere. It is, I believe, the foundation of the Aristotelian catharsis.
Now, if only I knew how to convince society to re-engage.