Know Your Audience

“Oh, crap. My phone has run out of battery. Never mind, I don’t need my phone for the next few hours because I’m about to watch a play and be entertained by people.”

That’s what this fool should’ve thought the other day as he went into a Broadway play. Alas, he didn’t. Instead, he joined the legions of appalling audience members that continue to plague actors.

Ok, ok. That sounds a bit harsh. Now, don’t get me wrong. Actors would be lost without an audience. Without them, we’d just be prancing around for the hell of it. That’s not performing, that’s just a Wednesday night in your bedroom. And you can’t put that on your CV. Believe me, I’ve tried.

But I can pretty safely say that all actors have an audience horror story. From the late Richard Griffiths ordering a woman out of the auditorium because her phone went off to to Patti Lupone stopping mid-performance to yell at an audience member for taking photos (something which, rather ironically, was audio-recorded and uploaded here…)

Then there are the stories of couples having sex in auditoriums. And, of course. Who doesn’t get turned on by a good proscenium arch and a cracking safety curtain?

So what is wrong with audiences? Is it that we now watch too much TV and are so used to shuffling and eating and chattering through a whole box set? Are we all so ridiculously important that even a couple of hours in a theatre can’t do without us blustering about? And heaven knows, theatre is trying to keep up. Tweeting seats, immersive productions and even online streaming of productions so you can still prat about at home without worrying that your decision to eat a whole family bag of Doritos is putting off the actors. And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe audience members just don’t know the line anymore? Sometimes they're being expected to get up and be involved and other times they're expected to sit still for hours on end in stony silence. 

The optimistic actor in me (that’s the one that applies for acting jobs and puts ‘running’ as a skill on my CV…) likes to think that it’s because the audience become so engrossed in our performance. Your parading on stage as a demonic horse (yep, I’ve played that role) is so mesmerising that they forget they sound like a horse eating a multipack of Hula Hoops. I want to believe that, I really do. But I’ve been performing while a man sighed so heavily that I nearly blew off stage so, sorry optimistic actor, I think you’re wrong.

So is it audiences being rude or, as actors, do we need to stop being so precious? Historically, theatre audiences were far more boisterous. I’m sure Nell Gwynne was up against far more than someone’s phone going off or a quick fumble in the front row. As actors, do we need to just get on with it? Or should an audience member's rudeness be addressed for all to see? Like being asked by your teacher to share your little joke with the past, is it right to call these things out? Do we owe the rest of the audience a flawless performance or, actually, do they love being part of this confrontation? 

But going back to our man in Broadway...y'know, sometimes we need our phones in the theatre. What if we can’t afford the programme but we need to know what we’ve seen whatshername in before. Have you tried concentrating on Coriolanus while you try and why you work out thingy carrying the stick? And what about those terrible plays? No, you don’t need a phone because you’re going to be that guy, sat in the back row with your face lit up like a Glo Worm toy. But, dammit, watches are stupidly hard to see in the dark. Just a quick sneak to see what….OH GOD, HOW HAS ONLY 20 MINUTES PASSED?

So, here are a few little rules…

1.)  Leave that bag of Salt & Vinegar McCoys at home

2.) If step 1 is too difficult then learn the valuable art of sucking crisps.

3.) Check your phone is on silent

4.) If step 3 is too difficult then cut all ties with your friends and family before heading out

5.) Remember the set is not for you. Actors don’t just randomly walk into your places of work to use your things, so don’t do the same to us.

6.) If step 5 is too difficult then I think being outside might be more your thing.  

Total Immersion

Unless you've been living under a rock (or somewhere far flung like Surbiton) then you won't have failed to notice that immersive theatre is bloody everywhere these days. Putting on a standard play is just not acceptable these days and if the line between the performers and audience isn't as blurry as an actresses vision after a bottle of Merlot then it's not worth talking about.

I won't bore you senseless about talking about the various companies that have taken this particular performance baton and have run for the hills with it because I'm fairly sure that there are several articles out there that cover this subject far better than me. I could put a few links up for you but hey, this blog ain't a holiday, do your resting on your own time. But no, what I wanted to look at was the idea of being in the audience of these things, especially when you're a performer yourself.

If you're a performer then it's always going to be difficult to completely switch off on a trip to the theatre. Just like a chef visiting a restaurant or a doctor finding themselves in A&E, when you know how things are done, the joy of something is minimised somewhat. Theatre done well is one of the most magical experiences but if I'm in the audience, I'm also thinking of what's going on backstage before the curtain goes up. I think about the fact that actors are probably slouched just inches from the stage, gossiping with their cast about how annoying the director has become. And when watching actors on stage, I try to enjoy the action that's happening then and there but I can't help wondering if, like me, they're actually stood there wondering about how they need to pop to the bank tomorrow. And when they're taking their curtain call, it'd be lovely to think that their smiles are because of another job well done but more often than not, it's relief that they're one show closer to the end of the run.

But what happens when, as a performer, you find yourself in the audience of an immersive theatre piece. Immersive shows put the audience in the role of the performer so you'd think it would be the ideal scenario; you get to perform without the hassle of an irritating cast, awkward director and the constant nagging feeling that you could be doing something better...or something like that... But instead, I find myself more concious than ever. I start worrying that I'm not doing what the actors need you to do and that you're completely ruining their show. And I have full reason to worry about this kind of thing because I've done it before. Last year I went to the wonderful One-on-One Festival at the BAC. If you didn't go then a quick description is that each room had a different immersive experience and you go in on your own and have the time of your damn life. In one room I got to lie on a bed and draw a self portrait and in another room I had my own personal cocktail made for me. I was even kidnapped by a criminal team of beatboxers who blindfold you, throw you into a car and give you your own, private beatboxing performance. However, one of the greatets rooms was run by the masters of immersive theatre, Ontroerend Goed. It was called A Game of You and in simple terms, looks at how others view you. I don't want to ruin it in case any of you ever get to experience it but it's awesome and incredible and it makes you think for days. But, of course, I managed to ruin mine almost instantly by sitting on the wrong chair when I entered the room. The actor tried to subtly tell me that I was in the wrong chair but I had no idea what they were trying to do, thinking that this was all part of the show. Sadly the actor had to finally break out of character and tell me in the most simple terms that I was sat in the wrong chair and they'd be unable to continue until I moved. Nothing ruins a moment quite like the feeling that you've ruined something rather magical.

Then last night I found myself at another immersive theatre piece courtesy of the wonderful BAC. I was at Babel in Caledonian Park, a grand spectacle where the audience find themselves very much part of the action. But I wasn't sure just how much we were supposed to be involved. At times, members of the audience were shouting out, enjoying the mob mentality that was being inflicted upon us and I'm sure we were supposed to join in but,  instead of feeling like I could shout along too, I found myself worrying that the actors were getting annoyed with them for ruining the show. I didn't want to be the immersive theatre equivalent of the idiot who sits in the front row eating a bag of Kettle Chips while playing on his phone and farts loudly in every dramatic pause. Although that does sound quite fun...maybe I need to rethink my position as an audience member...

Silent But Deadly

Firstly, read this:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/stage/theatreblog/2012/may/02/fringe-theatre-actors-exploited-props

If you're anything like me then you probably read most of it with a little jazzy voice in your head going 'And your point is what, exactly?' OK, it might not have been jazzy. Maybe it was Irish. Or loud. Or maybe you made it sound like a monster. But, if you're a working actor then I'm fairly sure your reaction was fairly similar to mine. And if you're not an actor then you're probably left wondering what their problem is.

Y'see, I thought that this article was going to finally give all us actors a bit of a voice and expose the soul-shattering amount of unpaid work out there at the moment. Just today I saw a casting call for a fringe theatre piece that didn't pay but made a point of saying that the last two years they'd managed to break even and had been able to put on a massive party for their cast and crew at the end of it all. Now, I don't know about you but I'd rather they spent their time trying to get some extra funding rather than harking on about some rubbish party they're going to organise, spending the money they could be giving you on a cheap wine and value crisps.

I could go on for ages about the unpaid situation but it's been done to death by a lot of other people who are far more eloquent than I'll ever be. I could mention the fact that casting sites such as StarNow ask all of those who post jobs to say that they agree to abide by the National Minimum Wage Act but this doesn't then stop them posting up jobs that are unpaid. Yesterday I saw a casting call for a film about modelling scams. Underneath the casting it had the line:

The owner of this listing has agreed to abide by the UK National Minimum Wage Act. 

Now, you're way ahead of me aren't you because you already know that, of course, this job was unpaid. The director was unable to see the irony of posting up a job about scams which states that they are abiding by a law that stipulates that people providing a service should be paid the minimum amount (let's ignore any legal stuff about being self-employed and whether actors are entitled to a minimum wage) and then mentions that actors won't be getting paid.

But no, what I really wanted to talk about was the fact that I would've loved to have had a chance to play some of these parts when I was straight out of drama school. If it was a choice between playing a near-mute barman in a successful play at the Bush Theatre or dragging myself around Oxfordshire and Nottinghamshire performing TIE for kids who couldn't care less, I know which job I'd choose. Yeah, it's dull being on stage when you've got very little to say but, when you've just hopped straight out of drama school, getting those credits and working alongside directors and actors of that calibre is pretty bloody great. And I understand that it might not be the greateest thing to write to casting directors and agents about but heck, at least you've got something to tell them. During my first year of drama school, I'm pretty sure that casting directors and agents thought I was taking a vow of silence against them. As much as I wanted to get in touch with them, it's bloody hard persuading the National Theatre's casting director to attend a 9am showing of your play on heroin in a school hall in Banbury.

And sometimes being silent on stage is no bad thing. Some of the greatest moments of theatre I've seen have been just from a look that a so-called 'lesser character' makes. And also, let's not knock the relief that being quiet on stage can bring. I've had several shows where I've had prolonged periods of silence on stage (make of that what you will...) Now, I'd love to say that I spent that time staying in character and keeping my character's motivation and intentions firmly in mind. But of course I didn't. Those moments are also great for wondering what terrible food you're going to pick up on your way home, whether you turned the gas off before you left the house or working out inventive ways to sack your agent. They allow you to keep a sneaky eye on the audience and they also help you to gently work your way through a killer hangover.

So let's not be too down on those mute lurkers and silent standers. If someone wants to pay me to silently stand on a stage for two hours, let them, I say!

Noises Off

Today I should be blogging about the audition that I just got back from. In the tradition of my blog, that would be the most likely thing for me to come back and report on. But, that will have to wait until tomorrow because, in a first for 2012, I went to the theatre last night. Oh yes, Miss L, because her wonderful friend got her a free ticket, ventured out of the house and pretended to be all cultural like.

I went to see Lovesong at the Lyric Hammersmith and on the whole, I'd recommend it to anyone that fancies an evening out in West London. It's written by Abi Morgan who, if you don't know by name, you definitely know her by her work. She's written a rather small film that's currently out known as The Iron Lady. You might have heard of it. She also wrote Shame which is out at the moment and Birdsong which is on BBC1 very soon. So yeah, she's doing alright at the moment. And the writing in Lovesong is bloody good. There are some gorgeously moving moments and all four characters are beautifully and delicately written. Despite the depressing nature of the story, I laughed far more than I cried and I came away feeling more uplifted than I expected to. There are some movement style pieces inbetween scenes which I personally found unecessary. I'm sure if I'd been in the midst of my GCSE Drama then I'd have loved them and would have found some meaning behind them but my cynical 28 year old brain just found them to be a bit tiresome. I do wonder if directors have become scared of just putting on a straightforward play. I admit that there are some incredible pieces out there where movement adds a wonderful new quality to the performance but when the writing is as tight as it was in Lovesong, all it did was detract from the performances.

But enough of my thoughts on the play. Basically I enjoyed it and I reckon your money would be well spent in going to see it. What I really wanted to blog about today was how exasperating theatre audiences are. I admit that my friend and I committed the first cardinal sin of theatregoing and because we were too busy chatting in the foyer, only entered the auditorium a minute or so before the show was meant to be begin. We checked our tickets and found that our seats were conveniently located slapbang in the middle of the row. After shuffling by angry people who were far more organised than us, we settled down and the lights came down as we were still in the midst of the wine glass/coat/bag dance. Within seconds of the show starting we realised that we were sat in front of possibly the most awful row of theatregoers. They bafflingly laughed at random lines (who knew the term 'peach tree' was funny?) and I swear they were munching their way through ASDA's entire stock of crisps. Bag after bag was opened as they guffawed at seemingly normal lines. They then became confused by some of the tricksy staging used to conceal the actors on stage. It was a shock when it was first used but within a nanosecond, it was plainly obvious what they'd done. Well, at least it was to everyone else in the room. Row M were so mesmerised by this that they then spent the next five minutes loudly whispering to each other to try and convince themselves that there wasn't some sort of evil witchcraft taking place on stage. Just as they finally managed to understand elementary staging, one of the characters makes a shocking revelation. Cue a gasp worthy of the pantomimes, followed by a whispering Mexican wave of 'Bitch!' as though we'd suddenly transported ourselves to the Jeremy Kyle show. Needless to say they remained audible throughout the whole play and any suspension of disbelief was utterly ruined.

I'm always amazed at how rude audiences are. I know that there are sometimes things that can happen on stage which can make you react in a way you didn't expect. I dare anyone to see The Woman in Black and not scream several times. Or for anyone who saw Oxford Stage Company (now Headlong) and their performance of Rookery Nook, you'll know that it was impossible not to remain laughing throughout. And if you see Translunar Paradise and don't find yourself sobbing by the end then you have a heart of steel. I don't mind those kinds of reactions. In fact, I think they're incredible. They show just how immersive theatre can be and I think it's amazing that you can completely forget about all the bills you have to pay and the work you need to get done for just a few hours and instead just allow yourself to be moved by what you see on stage. It's the other noise that really winds me up. Regular blog readers will know that I have a huge weakness for crisps but even I can go without them for a few hours. And unless you're actually dying (in which case, I wonder whether you should be seeking medical attention rather than watching Richard II) do you really need to cough in every pause?

But at least if you're in a big auditorium, those sounds can be lost slightly. I was once in a play in a very tiny space where a man yawned so loudly that everyone on stage actually stopped to look at him. Clearly he hated the play so much that he then continued to yawn in a similar fashion throughout, becoming more and more dramatic with each mouth opening. It got the point where everyone five minutes we'd have a five second sigh, followed by a ten second wail of a yawn which was accompanied my much arm stretching and was then finished off with a loud, contented second sigh. In the second half, he decided that his yawning wasn't enough and so proceeded to take out his mobile phone inbetween each yawn to see just how much he could put us off. Of course, we were all suitably distracted by this wailing, flashing buffoon and it ended up being the worst performance of the run. But I should be adept at dealing with such nuisances. In my first ever TiE show, where we took an 80s reworking of Much Ado About Nothing, to south London schools, I was welcomed on to the stage in spectacular fashion. Most actors get respectful silence but not me. Instead, while wearing a bright pink boob-tube and a frighteningly short polka dot skirt, my entrance had the soundtrack of 300 schoolchildren all shouting 'urghhhhhh' at the top of their voices. I'm pretty sure Dame Judi Dench never has to deal with such things.

So that was my first theatrical experience of 2012. Maybe I'm best off staying at home where I only have to deal with upstairs and the heaviest footsteps in the world and the weird man next door who shouts obscenties every few minutes. Hmmmm. Best get booking myself up for the year ahead...