Trainspotting

'We are an immersive, interactive show that is entirely volunteer-led.'

 This, my friends. is code for 'we won't be paying you a bean.' We know this. If you’re an actor, it’s highly likely that you’re fluent in the language of ‘You’re ok with not being able to pay rent, right?’ We’re highly adept at spotting the words ‘experience’, ‘credits’ and ‘mug’ and know in an instant that this means we’ll have to endure another month in a call centre or flogging theatre programmes or massaging pervy strangers in a club to keep us alive. 

Even those who’ve vaguely glanced at my blog will know that I like to complain about unpaid work. As an actor it’s a daily battle that’s getting worse as more and more companies get in on the act. Like skinny jeans, it’s a fashion trend that just won’t go away. But unpaid work isn’t just unflattering, it’s also demeaning, frustrating and utterly tiresome. But there’s one company who crop up time and time again. One ‘award-winning company’ who, for a few years now, have somehow got away with not giving their performers a penny. But now Equity have stepped in. Now You Me Bum Bum Train have more to answer for than just their ridiculous name.

If you’re even remotely interested in British theatre then you’ll probably remember the first time you stumbled over the name You Me Bum Bum Train. I first saw it, unsurprisingly, on a casting site. It’s a name that instantly tugged at my scowling muscles. It's a name that instantly sets my teeth on edge. And upon reading the description of the piece (which I’m fairly sure threw the word around ‘experience’ like cheap tinsel at Christmas) my scowl and itchy teeth set in for the longhaul.

YMBBT (if you think I’m typing out that name in full every time then get out of here, kiddo) was quite a revelation back in 2010. It was a simpler time when immersive theatre just meant the actors entered the stage via the audience. It was a time when actors were actors and audience members were allowed to sit back, maybe have a little snooze and choose just how much they wanted to take from a show. But now, we’re a lot more used to audience members being hoisted from their threadbare seats and being made to prance about like a very reluctant performing monkey. But back in 2010, YMBBT was new and it sounded a bit bloody exciting. A single audience member is treated to their own private show where they get asked to do all manner of things for a full 45 minutes. Unless the idea of audience participation makes you queasy in your bones, this sounds like a lot of fun so it's no wonder that tickets get snapped up extremely quickly.

But fun is pretty much where the positives end. Because the people behind YMBBT have set it up in such a way that it’s practically impossible to ensure performers are paid. If you’ve ever worked in fringe theatre then you’ll know the rule that if the cast outnumber the audience then you’re allowed to call the show off and dance down the street in your pants. Well, in YMBBT’s case, that means a show would never, ever take place and there would be a lot of street-pant dancing in Stratford. While most shows would draw the line once the cast gets into double figures, YMBBT hire up to 250 actors. Now that would be the best thing since people worked out you could put crisps between sliced bread if they were actually paying actors. But they’re not. Because they’re marketing this as a community piece that’s entirely run by volunteers, you earn the princely sum of nothing. And considering this is now a sell-out show that is backed by the Barbican and Theatre Royal Stratford East with support from the Arts Council, the Canary Wharf Group (click on the link and weep at the property they own) and the Stratford Renaissance Partnership, it’s concerning that there’s still not enough money to go around to at least keep the actors on a minimum wage.

The argument of YMBBT’s artistic directors is that it’s simply not feasible for them to pay actors and of course it’s not. When you set up a business plan that allows for only 16 paying audience members a day seeing the work of 250 actors and a whole load of crew members then you find there’s just not enough money to go around. So why put the show on? Why not scale it down until you get to the point when you can afford to pay people to be involved? Because they don’t have to. Because there are people that still want to be involved in this. Another one of their arguments is that despite casting their shows via actors’ casting sites, they’re not just looking for actors. They get all manner of people involved in their show you are just there for the ‘experience’ (that bloody word again.) According to this article in The Guardian, the organisers believe that paying people would ‘change the dynamic’ of the show. Apparently, if they start paying people then the whole show will be utterly ruined as their performers would be far too happy. You listening, Hollywood? Apparently it’s a lot more exciting when you don’t pay actors. Nothing creates a thrilling atmosphere quite like 250 performers worrying about where their next meal is going to come from. 

Because I could waffle on about this forever more until I write myself into an unpaid frenzy, I’m going to leave the final word with the excellently eloquent Samuel West:

“I can't support a working model where actors aren't paid at all. Otherwise the only people who can afford to be in those shows are those who have other jobs or savings or private incomes – and that alters the demographic of actors you can use, and eventually the demographic of the profession."