There have been a wide variety of theatre gatherings in the last week: a NAMT conference in Seattle, an industry weekend at the Humana Festival, the traveling roadshow explicating the “New Beans” study, the New York City panel (prompted by the Mike Daisey flap) on truth in theatre. Having been unable to attend any of these, I have learned about them in the modern manner: via tweet, blog, livestream and archived video and audio. So without having sat at each and listened from beginning to end, without the opportunity to ask questions or make comment in real-time, these have all blended together for me.

What I take away from this stew of conversation and debate is an overriding desire for greater connection: between playwrights and theatres, between artists and audiences, between creative talents and administrators, between everyone and the truth. Though I didn’t particularly enjoy reading E.M. Forster’s Howards End, its epigram echoes, even if it has passed into the realm of cliché. Only connect.

This puts me in mind of one of my earlier musings, about how sporting events and civic gatherings unite everyone involved through the Pledge of Allegiance and the national anthem (baseball also reinforces this with the ritual singing of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” during the seven inning-stretch). While I acknowledge that it’s not an easy task to find the right material for such a unifying act before the start of a theatrical production, and know of many people who would sooner leave than be forced into audience participation, I still ponder how the artists of a performance could be united with their audience even before the start of the show itself. Yes, a song before Ibsen could be jarring, and how could we unite given what I presume to be a general unfamiliarity with Norwegian folk tunes. But wouldn’t a mournful Irish ballad make a great preamble to many of the plays of O’Neill; what if we all followed the bouncing ball for several verses of “This Land is Your Land” before stories of immigrants, or of the dispossessed? Why must we wait until the end of a show, as with Hair, for the audience to dance together? Director Mark Lamos once had audiences dancing pre-show for a Twelfth Night, so that when the stage cleared and Orsino said, “If music be the food of love, play on,” his mournful plaint was felt by all who had participated in a party, not merely observed one.  Not to in any way discount the value of pre-show discussions, which grow more prevalent, but a unifying experience is emotional and active, not didactic.

Another means of connection is one I’ve also championed for many years, namely that each and every time the playwright, composer, director, choreographer and/or designers of a production – together or separately – are in the house for a performance of a show of theirs, they should be invited to take a bow.  On opening nights, it is not uncommon for the creative team to participate in the ovation, and while at times they can be awkwardly staged (in that they aren’t staged at all, and these unfamiliar people should be introduced), every performance can be an opportunity for the audience to see and respond to the full complement of creative artists who contributed to the production, not only the cast. While many of those artists might prefer anonymity, and of course many have moved on post-opening, they deserve recognition, an awareness of their presence only deepens the experience for the audience that has shared in their work. With better-known artists, the excitement can be palpable; Caryl Churchill’s presence merely as an audience member, not even a participating playwright, this past weekend at Actors Theater of Louisville yielded a rippling thrill across the Twitterverse, far beyond the theatre’s walls.

Most every theatre uses the first rehearsal/first reading as a day to introduce the company and the staff of a show, but in my experience, it’s incomplete. I recall being brought into rehearsal rooms, the staff circling the company, seated at tables, as one by one we did the Mouseketeer roll call of our names and titles. There might be a speech by the artistic director, and then by the production’s director (if different), perhaps a few words by the playwright, maybe a quick demonstration of the set model – and then we were sent back to our desks to go about our regular business. We were not invited to stay for the first reading, often told that it would make the company too self conscious; I wish that we had been required to stay and listen, that even at the most unformed step, every staffer should be made to be there at the birth of a new production, not just drop by for a wave and a bagel before things got messy. The same should probably hold true for that final rehearsal in the rehearsal hall; it further engages the staff in the creative process, and refamiliarizes the company with a staff that they may not have interacted with for some three weeks.  I have heard of some companies that even hold readings of plays long before first rehearsal, with the roles divvied up among the staff – what a marvelous way to connect the staff with what they’ll soon be working on, and to connect the staff with each other.

Some theatres have sought to engage their audiences by making use of the newest technology, with “tweet seats” a cascading topic on blogs and in the mainstream media ever since a USA Today story in the fall. Regardless of your opinion of the practice, which is worthy of separate discussion, it is an effort, however primitive, to actively connect audiences with the work on stage and simultaneously with their friends and followers not in the theatre; depending upon their stage time, members of the company can even participate during the show, and I know of one artist who followed her east coast show in real time while she was back with her family in Los Angeles. While execution may vary, in a field where we talk about breaking down the fourth wall, or even shattering the proscenium barrier, technology is showing ways for artists and audiences to interact with those not even at the performance, with results still to be assessed.

I recognize that this is a laundry list of ideas, practices and possibilities, not a carefully argued thesis, and I hope that you will indulge me one last anecdote/example. As I mentioned above, the divide between staff and performers can be wide; there is not, for example, any essential reason for say, the business office to know the actors unless there’s a payroll problem. As a manager, I learned from example that I would need to make an effort to build such a connection even for myself, even though my name was on the program’s title page, since my work hours mostly ended just as shows began. But I knew that if I was in the building at half-hour, I should walk through the dressing rooms, say hello, see how everyone was feeling, and do the same in the lighting and sound booth, the box office, and so on, depending upon the particular geography of each theatre. I had been urged to do so even before I was a manager; it is one of the responsibilities I have missed most in the past 12 years.

Those rounds were never perfunctory, but they were usually casual, save for one night when we were producing the original multi-theatre co-production of August Wilson’s Jitney at Geva Theatre in 1999, during my first season as managing director there. While professionally Geva was a terrific theatre and work opportunity, it had taken me from family and friends and, personally, it was the most profoundly lonely period in my life. Jitney, as it turned out, broke that loneliness to a degree, because there were several actors in the company with whom I’d worked before and so, itinerants all, we felt a bond, especially on a show that came to us fully rehearsed, further minimizing the connection between the staff and cast. One night, though I knew it was only minutes to curtain, I decided it wasn’t too late to do my dressing room walk-through, only to find that the cast was gathering for their own nightly ritual, a prayer circle. Upon seeing me, the actor Keith Randolph Smith grabbed me and dragged me into the circle, ignoring my protestations of intruding. Although I felt awkward, it would have been deeply disrespectful to truly resist; although the prayers were offered in Jesus’ name and I am a non-practicing Jew, I joined in their ‘amen’ and invested it with true meaning. I was so moved to have been taken into the circle – no other staff member had ever been or ever was, included, I was later told – that I remain deeply honored to this day. I recall it as the first time I felt at home in Rochester. In hindsight, I only wish that every person working the show has been similarly included, each and every night.

Pray. Sing. Dance. Tweet. Discuss. Debate. But foster connection any way you can at the theatre. We are apparently all yearning for it, in our art, our marketing, our lives. And tell us all what you do to foster that connection, and how it works. There’s always new ways, and more to learn.

As some of you may be aware, I live-blogged the TEDx Broadway conference held in late January and my frequent updates stood as the most public record of the full event until the videos went live just recently.

Among the presentations, I have to say that the one which most affected me was the hip-hop editorial by Matt Sax (@MattSax), who has created and performed in the shows Clay and Venice. While I am slightly out of hip-hop’s target demo, Matt’s rhythmic commentary on his Broadway experiences past, present and future galvanized me and thrilled the audience as well (though the lack of audience miking doesn’t do our response justice). You can watch on YouTube to see his performance or view it below (he does two pieces; I’m focused on the second one), but the words alone have enormous power. Matt was generous enough to transcribe his handwritten work and give me permission to reproduce it.  I suspect you may find it eminently quotable.

Bravo, Matt!

*    *   *

tedxbroadway – 2012

by Matt Sax

Twenty years ago I saw my first Broadway show

The Secret Garden starring John Cameron Mitchell

who would have known, twelve years later Mr. Mitchell

would give me a carwash in the 2^nd row

after that first show I devoured scores day by day.

Memorized every lyric on the Great White Way

Was entranced by the majesty – whether comedy or tragedy

I’d imagine shows in my mind doing the play by play.

I knew my fate was sealed by the time I was ten

didn’t know how to begin, only knew I had to get in.

My dreams were affected like never before

wanted to put on a mask – I couldn’t sleep no more

So I trained to be an actor. A serious actor…who sings

but soon I knew I also wanted to create puppet strings

See I’m a product of a generation of entitled, impatient, apathetic,

lazy children who all feel alone… We created the internet

so we wouldn’t have to leave home. We are also brave

and process information differently

We combine multiple mediums

From rap shows to symphonies

We see music visually and hear images implicitly

We cross genre boundaries, prone to eccentricity

We’re a generation who tweets about the skeletons in our closet for recreation

We all have a voice and are prone to speak with exclamations

    I AM not a hipster

    or a skater

    or a thug

    or a hater

    I AM a great creator and I love the-ator

So where is Broadway going? What is the best it can be?

I think embracing this culture is a necessity.

I hate to say this – but Broadway is looking too much like Vegas

Retreads of old movies are never going to save us.

We need to look closer at the entertainment we’re affording them

We need to get back to creating stars instead of just importing them

And I believe in the importance of critics for chronicling our theatrical history –

But it can’t be that our collective fates are only written by Isherwood or Brantley

We ALL have a voice and we’re not afraid – look

what critic is gonna argue with a million “likes” on facebook?

We’re still in the world wild west where the internet’s free

And because of this the artists have a chance to shape the industry

Its important I swear

the opportunity’s there

to be at the forefront of pop culture

instead of in the rearview mirror

If I’m a little naïve – okay – I know the dollar is important

but for the future of our business we’re alienating people who can’t afford it.

As long as we create shows for only people who can see them

we run the risk of transforming the theatre into a museum.

Today we are willing to pay but expect content for free

so I say we take our Broadway shows and stream them live for a small fee

It’ll expand our reach. A million people watching in Dubai

maybe could save us from the fate of Bonnie and Clyde

I know the finances suck. How can we create a show that sells

when the NY non-for profit houses can’t produce a musical without commercial help?

It’s a different world now and I have to say

we can have people’s ears and hearts before they or we have to pay.

and before the purists scream at me and cry out

fuck out of town, give me an internet tryout

Everyone’s online, from 90 year old jewish women to toddlers

so lets get the public’s opinion before we drop a million dollars.

And so twenty years from now, what do I imagine Broadway to be?

Well I hope and pray that future will include me.

Galinda wants to be popular and so do we. I want to hear

our songs on the radio and keep seeing them on TV

I want Broadway’s reach to expand past the nation

it’s my goal to tell stories to inspire my generation.

And I am humbled to be in the presence of all these people out here

it is an honor and a privilege to have pirated your ears.

copyright Matt Sax, included here by permission

“Can’t believe that a MAJOR theater is producing [play title redacted]. Crazy talk. Does its “non-profit” mission mandate producing community theatre?”

I know. It’s just a tweet. Let it go. But it’s emblematic of bias I read and hear constantly. It’s about time I said something.

I would like everyone to stop using “community theatre” as a punch line or punching bag.

As people with a vested interest in building and sustaining interest in theatre, pretty much everyone in the business is supportive of and in many cases evangelical for arts education. We applaud academic drama programs and productions from kindergarten to graduate school, recognizing that such programs can give voice to the next generation of artists as well as the next generation of audiences. We decry funding cuts to such programs for their impact on creative as well as intellectual development. Of late, there is also recognition that these programs may offer refuge to those who seem “different” from student bodies at large, safe havens from predatory classmates (“bully” seems a bit tame these days) among those similarly inclined, close-knit teams for those who shy away from sports.

But once school is over, those whose lives and careers take them away from the arts, but whose love of performing doesn’t abate, become part of a maligned yet integral part of the theatrical ecosystem which, when spoken of by most professionals and media voices, is summarily disparaged. Why on earth does this happen, and why is it allowed to propagate?

While I’m quite certain there are some fairly sophisticated community theatre groups, I’ll cede the point that a great deal of the work done in community theatre likely doesn’t measure up to professional, or perhaps even collegiate, standards. But that’s not the point of it. If the participants wanted to be professionals, they might be pursuing those goals; perhaps some of them did, and didn’t succeed. But I’m willing to go out on a limb and say that the majority of the participants in community theatre never sought a professional theatre career, and are happy to be teachers, dentists, attorneys, mechanics, stay-at-home parents or what have you. The fact is, community theatre is a hobby, a passion and an outlet for people who truly love theatre; it’s the bowling league, the weekly pick-up basketball game, the book group for the performance minded. The participants are, I’m willing to bet, ticket buyers at local theatres, tourists who flock to Broadway or national tours, parents who encourage creativity in their own children. In some cases they may even provide the only theatre their community gets to see. They are the people we need.

Drawing on data from the American Association of Community Theatres website, which surely doesn’t include every community group out there, we know that AACT itself “represents the interests of more than 7,000 theatres across the United States and its territories, as well as theatre companies with the armed forces overseas.” They claim more than 1.5 million volunteers [participants], over 46,000 annual productions per year, an audience of 86 million and a combined annual budget of well over $980 million. That’s a lot of theatrical activity.

Before you accuse me of being a hypocrite, I will admit to enjoying Waiting for Guffman, an at times cringe-worthy satire of community theatre and a touchstone for many in the business now for a number of years. But like other Christopher Guest films, particularly Best in Show and A Mighty Wind, Guffman is an affectionate and at times absurdist view, which celebrates the passions of its offbeat thespians just as it lampoons them. There is no such affection in the tweet quoted above, or in the often-used critical riposte that labels sub-standard professional work as approximate to that seen in community theatre.

A couple of years ago, when I worked on the American Theatre Wing’s book The Play That Changed My Life, I was struck by the fact that this collection of independently written essays ended up including several paeans to community theatre, with both Beth Henley and Sarah Ruhl writing about how their parents’ community theatre experiences informed their own theatrical lives; Chris Durang wrote of play readings held in his living room which transformed his mother and the local newspaper editor into the elegant personages of a Noel Coward play one afternoon. Surely these are not unique stories. I even had my own experience with community theatre, when at age 16 I successfully landed the role of Motel in Fiddler on the Roof (playing opposite a 27-year-old school teacher); to be a high schooler cast amongst adults was my own moment of breaking into the big leagues at that stage in my life. Community theater can matter.

Let me swerve to a corollary issue, also invoked by the opening tweet, which is the suggestion that certain plays belong solely to the community theatre repertoire (I redacted the play named in the tweet because I don’t care to debate its relative merits, but rather address the broader issue). “Community theatre plays” share a common trait with many “high school plays,” in that both often feature large casts, casts that most professional theatres would happily employ if they could afford it.  But because for these groups, inclusion is essential, both in a desire to be welcoming and because inclusion can drive ticket sales, the large-scale plays common to the mainstream theatre in the 1920s, 30s and 40s, and the larger scaled musicals from across the past 100 years are staples. The value of the pieces should not be diminished because they flourish in these non-professional settings; they may not always be the most current work (though, again, I know many community groups do recent, smaller plays too), but their only opportunity to be seen may be in the community theatre arena.

Size isn’t the only issue; current tastes dismissively relegate shows to “community theatre” status as well. You Can’t Take It With You stumbled on a recent effort at Broadway, but surely Kaufman and Hart, staples in community and school theatre, are no less important because of it. Neil Simon is not in critical or commercial favor right now, so his work can be tarred with the “community” slander, but if the upcoming West End production of The Sunshine Boys, with no less than Richard Griffiths in the cast, proves revelatory, a shroud may yet be lifted from Simon’s bust in the theatrical pantheon. We’ve seen somewhat of the same thing happen recently in England with the long out-of-favor Terence Rattigan; the acclaimed David Cromer attempted Simon’s resuscitation on Broadway a couple of years ago but was undone by finances. The non-profit theatre producing a “community theatre” play should be applauded for reexamining a work not often professionally staged — at least until it opens; then judge it on its own merits, not on a collective and peremptory assumption about its worth. There’s a corollary in “family” or “children’s” theatre, where You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown and Annie are seen as staples, yet those shows weren’t written for or sold to children in their original runs any more than Wicked is subsisting solely on sales to 14-year-old girls today, as some would ignorantly suggest. This reductive labeling is detrimental on so many levels.

We are part of an industry that constantly worries about its future, but can be our own worst enemy. By slagging community theatre, we’re undercutting our own best interests and evidencing our own cultural elitism; by allowing others to do so we join the juvenile yet dangerous bullies who taunted us in high school — by doing the same to adults whose only wrong is to enjoy doing that which we’ve made our careers. Even if you’ve never uttered a word against community theatre, but merely have never given it a moment’s thought, you are doing it disservice. Is theatre so healthy that we can afford to be so blithely arrogant?

In this post, I have chosen not to name a particular show to which I allude because my thoughts pertain to a very brief moment in the production. While you may be able to identify it, I am not writing theatrical criticism and don’t want my response to perhaps 30 seconds of stage time to be misconstrued as applicable to the entire evening.

I am not often moved to anger at the theatre. I may be disappointed in a show, annoyed by a directorial concept, discomfited by a noisy patron or shallow legroom, but I don’t usually get so irate that I am mentally jolted out of the production at hand and need time to settle myself down. But it happened last week.

While the production had updated a classic musical with many assorted contemporary references, what had me seeing red were fleeting one-liners at the expense of three recent Republican presidential candidates, including Rick Santorum. Was I upset because I support that individual or his competitors? No. Haven’t I laughed at jokes about them in other circumstances? Yes. So why was I deeply incensed? I was upset by the context of the comments, namely in the midst of a family-friendly musical. I think they were probably insulting and upsetting to some in the audience. And I’d like those people to keep going to theatre, even if I don’t share their entire worldview.

I read a great deal online about various theatrical issues, audience development being one and political theatre being another, and I am personally supportive of both. I think political drama and comedy can indeed have an effect beyond theatre’s four walls. Whether it’s as explicitly political as David Hare’s Stuff Happens, as subtle (save for the title) as Richard Nelson’s That Hopey-Changey Thing, or as socially aware as Mike Daisey’s The Agony and The Ecstasy of Steve Jobs, I think the theatre is a great forum for political topics (funny how my three examples are all from New York’s Public Theater). As for audience development, I think every theatre professional must (if they are not already) be constantly thinking about the needs and interests of audiences both current and future, as our art form must gain support from both ticket buyers and donors alike, not just for today, but ad infinitum.

So why did a couple of jokes that would go unremarked if heard on The Daily Show or Saturday Night Live get me riled? Precisely because I wasn’t watching those shows and neither was anyone else in the audience. I was happily watching a show which had absolutely nothing to do with the current political or social situation in America when these random gag lines flew out from the stage, displaying utter contempt for anyone in the audience who might actually support those individuals.

This is hardly an isolated incident, as I’ve been at events where a speaker suddenly inserts this type of joke to get a laugh; I’ve seen it woven into the scripts of awards shows or deployed by recipients of those awards. Frankly, it gets me pissed off every time. I’m barraged by it on Twitter and Facebook from people I follow or friend because of their theatrical interests, rather than their politics, but there it is more akin to a comment between acquaintances, and I can always opt out of my online relationship if someone becomes overbearing.

But why do theatre people, who strive to sell tickets and build audiences, participate in these drive-by insults of some portion of their audiences? Surely they must realize that, especially when dealing with a few hundred or more people at once, not everyone follows the same political bent, no more than they should assume everyone is from the same culture or the same religion (unless they have explicitly targeted a narrowly defined audience). They’re not going to suddenly trigger an epiphany, and if the goal is to appeal to audiences, why show disdain for those who might think differently on some topics?

Theatre affords those who work in it the opportunity to weave stories that communicate emotions, ideas, concerns with artistry and skill. By tossing out topical political jokes shorn of context, we play at being witty or current but only succeed in reinforcing the stereotypes that some would throw at us: lefty, radical, socialist, elitist, godless – what have you. In those moments, we achieve nothing but a fleeting laugh and the affection of the like-minded — and perhaps the eternal enmity of some of those we otherwise claim to court.

If we believe that among the dramatic forms, theatre is the most immediate and complex; if we believe that theatre must remain vital while the electronic media continues to encroach upon our territory and our audiences – then we mustn’t sacrifice our greater interests for an easy guffaw. If we wish, we can (and should) create works which rail against the status quo or those who would seek to diminish some in our society, we can make bold (or careful) and emotional appeals on those topics which we believe to be important. But when we stoop to irrelevant one-liners we play the very game of distortion and insult that I hope we all deplore in the political arena itself, a game which is reportedly turning off the populace in droves. We are better than that and, if we’re creative enough about it, if we use the narrative and rhetorical skills that we have in abundance, perhaps we can in fact change a few minds – all the while insuring that our audiences remain willing to go to the theatre many more times.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 22 at 4 PM

“What’s the BEST that Broadway can be twenty years from now?”

That’s the overarching theme of the “TEDx Broadway” conference, taking place on Monday, January 23. Since I’m curious about what might be happening on Broadway when I’m approaching retirement, I’m planning to spend the day listening to the 15 presentations currently scheduled.

Given my range of theatrical interest, I do muse on why this isn’t “TEDx Theatre,” since Broadway represents only 40 venues in a single city (although it feeds a wider network of presenting houses around the country), but I do recognize its economic scale and almost mythic stature. As I am not a journalist, I will confess up front that do not approach the event unbiased; my responses to what I hear will be informed by my own 29-year career in the American theatre.

I will be live blogging through the day (my first such effort) in an attempt to bring some of the thinking presented at the event to those who can’t attend, in something approximating real time. Those who know my online activity may ask why I am not live-tweeting, and the answer is simple: I genuinely hope that the content of TEDx Broadway is sufficiently provocative and detailed that it cannot be reduced to 140 character missives; I want to be able to do it justice.  So bookmark this page and take a look as the day progresses on January 23.  I’ll watch for your comments both on this blog and, when possible, on my Twitter feed at @hesherman; I don’t know whether there will be any Q&A opportunities that would allow be to be your conduit back to the sessions.

Here’s the schedule of speakers, as provided by the TEDx folks:

Session One: Turning from Past and Present Toward the Future

• Ken Davenport, Broadway producer (Oleanna, Speed-the-Plow, Blithe Spirit)
• Jordan Roth, President of Jujamcyn Theaters
• Randy Weiner, Producer (Sleep No More, Purgatorio, Beacher’s Madhouse)
• Patricia Martin, Author, cultural communications guru and CEO of LitLamp Communications
• Performance by Joe Iconis, Musical theater writer and concert performer

Session Two: Picture If You Will…

• Performance by Matt Sax, Actor, writer and acclaimed composer (Clay, Venice)
• Kara Larson, Arts marketing consultant
• Frank Eliason, Digital customer service trailblazer
• Steve Gullans, Author, scientist, and entrepreneur
• Damian Bazadona, Founder of  Situation Interactive

Session Three: Over the Horizon

• Vincent Gassetto, Principal of NY’s M.S. 343
• Juan Enriquez, Economist and bestselling author
• Barry Kahn, Economist and dynamic pricing expert
• Gregory Mosher, Tony Award-winning director and former Lincoln Center Theater artistic director
• Joseph Craig, Entertainment marketing expert

If you’d like to read bios of these presenters, click here and scroll past the marketing materials at the top to get to summaries of their backgrounds.

I’ve been seeing Broadway theatre since the mid-70s and had a ringside seat to Broadway via the American Theatre Wing from 2003 to 2011. I look forward to hearing about what may be yet to come.

MONDAY JANUARY 23 10:10 AM

There is immediate irony surrounding today’s TEDx Broadway, in that it is being held in an Off-Broadway theatre, specifically the New World Stages complex on 50th Street in Manhattan, a veritable urban mall of theatre. Though I haven’t inquired, the reason seems apparent: the costs of using a Broadway house for such an event, even when donated by the theatre’s owner, can be prohibitive due to house labor costs, tech staff and house staff chief among them. Assuming that at minimum, sound, lighting and projections will be put to use over the course of the day, tech expenses on Broadway might run up quickly — and no doubt that’s an issue that will come up at some point today in discussion of what Broadway might look like 20 years hence. But behind the irony of today’s locale, there’s also encouragement: New World Stages was built as a subterranean movie multiplex, and was converted to live theatres after its failure as a film venue. It’s rare, but fun, when theatre trumps film.

Last night, I solicited via Twitter any advance thoughts people had about today, hopes or concerns. I certainly saw multiple tweets of excited anticipation for the event, noting one respondent with particular enthusiasm for organizer Ken Davenport and speaker Frank Eliason.  I have also seen tweets from several smaller not-for-profit companies, mostly New York-based; do they have Broadway dreams?

However, a number of tweets raised deeper questions. Why so male dominated (only 2 of the 15 announced participants are women), why so few artists (only 3, two slated as performances, not speakers), one speaker of color (Latino), why no (evident) speakers under the age of 35? Also, why so expensive ($100, limiting who can participate) and why during a workday (when younger professionals, if they can afford it in the first place, would need to take a day off to attend)? If this is about a vision of the future, can we vision a more egalitarian Broadway so that process enfranchises those who should, but largely do not, have stakes in Broadway? Indeed of the 13 speakers, only four appear to have direct connections to Broadway; the rest are experts in marketing, social media and customer service in other fields. So perhaps this is going to be more about how Broadway, whatever the product may be, will be connecting with its audience in 20 years, rather than what the work itself may be. But that remains to be seen.

A final note before I head one to New World Stages. I do not know whether it is by accident or design, but today’s event is scheduled opposite the annual Broadway Across America conference in Florida, where that major player both as producer on Broadway and producer/presenter in major venues across the country invites other major players for booth social and professional activities. This event immediately draws some major figures away from the TedXBroadway conference, leading me to wonder whether the intent of today is to “Occupy Broadway” and play to the less connected? However, if there is to be change on Broadway that we can measure 20 years from now, it would be highly unfortunate if today’s discussions go unheard by many of the people who would have to agree to take the first steps in that evolution if it’s to begin anytime soon.

MONDAY JANUARY 23 11:50 AM

Producer and event organizer Ken Davenport begins session by showing photos of 42nd Street in 1992 and today, as well as his acting head shot from that era; he mentions 1992  Tony winners Crazy for You, Guys and Dolls, and Dancing at Lughnasa. Ken remembers his dissatisfaction  at buying tickets in those days without being told seats locations. A $50 ticket for a play was news; $65 was the musical price. Only two non-profit-theatres had Broadway houses; “Now there are five and counting.”  Asks audience to indicate how many had cell phones, computers and Internet. Notes that Disney’s contract for the New Amsterdam was signed in 1993 and that in 1995 Sunset Boulevard won best musical score  by default. 1996, “the Rent era” begins. Notes the 50% drop in NASDAQ value since 2000. Notes the abandoning of the West Side Stadium project. Notes Memphis being the first show to record and broadcast its production while still running on Broadway. Davenport says Times Square is better: crime down, tourism up. On Broadway: 905 playing weeks in 1992 and 1588 now.

Davenport says that TEDx Broadway is about looking ahead and imagining what Broadway could be. What if in 2013 Playbill goes green and all programs are delivered electronically? In 2016, what if all shows were recorded and sold like cast albums? What if in 2018 Phantom of the Opera closes? What if in 2022 there’s a Times Square roller coaster? What if in 2026 the only vacant theaters are renovated and reopened by a Chinese company? What if in 2028, $75 million for a show is cheap and we elect a female president?

How will our shows be created and marketed in 2032? Event organizers agreed they had no idea, and invited speakers to help try to answer that question.  And if you’re in the house today, you’re going to help create that future.

12:05 PM

Jim McCarthy of Goldstar, one of the event’s organizers,  asks if anyone has been to a TEDx event before; few hands go up. He explains that it’s all about big thinking and the people sitting next to you are as important as the people on stage.  Audience is asked to fill out cards with their 60 second vision of Broadway in 2032; some will be invited on stage later in the day.

12:10 PM

Neil Patrick Harris video. He want to see references to Great White Way done away with; what about “The Great Culturally Inclusive Way?” Suggests that the best of Broadway in 2032 would star Hugh Jackman.

12:12 PM

Jujamcyn Theaters president Jordan Roth begins by parsing what “original” means. In regards to musicals, it means original script and score. Speaks of disdain for musicals from other sources; cites Oklahoma! adapted from Green Grow the Lilacs and 42nd Street drawn from 42nd Street. Emphasis speaks only to what, not how. Nobody sets out to create something that isn’t remarkable. Notes that American Idiot, Fela! and Lion King were all shows that did not have original scores, but quickly notes that writers of original scorns and books are essential. But when we limit our definition of original, we limit possibilities. Originality must come from creative innovation and answering the question of why is this live? As screens proliferate, live becomes more valuable, more differentiated, more unique. Not just a description of what is presented but how. Live must be built into events essence, something you can only experience in a room with a community of others. Artists must make the creative cases of why you have to come particular room at particular place with group of strangers to see. Talks about the uniquely different experiences of War Horse on stage and on screen, each told as only those mediums can do. If we aren’t unique and live, we will become cultural derivatives; “We must do what no other medium can do: be live. And that’s original.”

12:20 PM

Neil Patrick Harris video: how important is originality? “It’s super-duper crazy important” and that’s where Broadway has gone “off the ship.” Mentions various absurd new shows, like Modern Family: The Musical at Second Stage. If critics wouldn’t slam shows initially, there could be great musicals in the next 20 years.

12:22 PM

Producer Randy Weiner says he’s never done Broadway, but will speak about The Donkey Show, The Box and Sleep No More; his perspective is informed by these experiences. He talk about how difficult it was to describe Donkey Show: what is a club, was it a musical, was it Shakespeare? He says that original ideas can come from absolute squalor, describing original venue of The Donkey Show. Two cast members are in the audience, shouting out occasional remarks as he speaks; one a chorus girl, topless save for butterfly pasties (Titania), the other seemingly dressed as a crass stereotypical producer in an ugly fur (Oberon). He talks about the great people working in a difficult environment: Jordan Roth, Diane Paulus, designer Scott Pask and how the show took on a life of its own; he says that others took the idea and used in other ways, citing Ken Davenport’s Awesome 80s Prom. Weiner talks about the experience of the show beginning even with the line outside the venue, fully engaging you in the experience. The show had no seats and early audiences were shocked; they’d sit on the floor. The 360 degree approach 12 years ago was different, “and different is my favorite word and what I strive for in all of my shows.” Marketing integrated into the show; VIP greeter just like nightclub would recognize return visitors and even invite them back for free. Built upon people’s desire to be among the first and tell their friends about it. He said that Donkey Show’s real success came through specific, unexpected social interaction: bachelorette parties. “Sometimes you create something and it’s how does it interact with the world? And you get surprising answers.” Weiner talks about people’s social fabric connection to Broadway, but that needs to be even better integrated into shows. Notes the “real estate play” of Donkey Show, since there are clubs with great lights and great sound that are empty until 11 pm; he speaks about how Broadway is largely unused except from 8 to 11 pm (opposite of Donkey) and wonders about how they could be used although, “I have no idea of how Broadway works.” “Why can’t Broadway come up with other economic models?”

Moves on to discussing The Box, because he saw how much the club owners were making at the bar on The Donkey Show. He framed  The Box with outrageous acts, but framed it “high,” as you could see same acts downtown for $10. Suggests Broadway needing to be positioned as more elite for limited audiences; shorter runs, not just for star shows. Make it narrower but still make it financially successful.

When raising money for Sleep No More, he positioned it as a smarter investment than Broadway because no one was doing anything like it. His marketing budget was zero “because the show was going to be so extraordinary that’s how we’d get people to come…The show is the marketing.” Says that not every show can do that, but maybe there’s something to be learned. Instead of Broadway spending all this money on marketing, they should just put it all into a better, larger show.

12:42 PM

Patricia Martin begins her talk titled, “Will the future ‘like’ you?” She talks about lying on the floor of the Vatican and wondering how that level of creativity happens. Her book prompted by that experience has thesis that we are poised on the edge of another Renaissance, despite difficult economic times. Cites mentor’s research: the same thing that creates a renaissance can also send us into the dark ages. As a result of hyper-progress, as what’s irrelevant is shed, making space for the new. Indicators of of a renaissance: 1) death comes first, 2 ) facilitating medium (in Rome, road; today, the internet), and 3) age of enlightenment (messy concept she often avoids; has everything to do with future of creative work and how we appeal to young audience). Talks about the dwindling of subscriber base at Steppenwolf Theater and charge to find global brands that were doing best work reaching young audiences; they all did one thing well, knowingly or not – they could speak at a higher frequency.

Recipe to higher frequency: in young audiences’ upbringing, they experience truth by believing what they can feel, being heard above the din. Young audiences yearn for higher purpose through human connection; we are more and more becoming wired to be social and feel human connection. She studied science of consciousness: witness, empathize, imagine and then act; but there’s a caveat – it’s most powerful when it happens live. Speaks of difficulty in changing culture because you must walk against the tide of prevailing culture.

So when do we get to renaissance? Currently deep in winter of discontent and have facilitating medium of Internet – so why are we still stuck? Because we don’t have a compelling story of the future. We’re waiting – what’s next? Martin cites Jung: “The creation of something truly new is not accomplished by the intellect, but by the play instinct, acting out of necessity.” So will to future like us? A conditional yes. “We need stories about the human condition that are told with love, because that is what helps people feel compassion towards each other and through compassion comes enlightenment.”

1:01 PM

Neil Patrick Harris video: What makes Broadway so great is that you can have Spider-Man and a play with Alan Rickman all in 20 blocks. But we need to figure out how to produce more economically. I don’t like shows where people just sit around and talk. Give me City of Angels, give me magic shows on stage.

Composer Joe Iconis take stage to perform. Impossible to live-blog a song. Taking a break.

2:30 PM

Head of social media at CitiBank, Frank Eliason, up next. Where has service gone?, he asks. If continue on the path we’re on, Broadway will not exist, but let’s put that aside. He starts giving examples of frustration at customer service, and says it gets to core of what’s wrong with theatre today. He talks about companies adding technology, outsourcing, ongoing process. Says that people have lost human connection in business; cites Seth Godin book Linchpin, saying we’re still in the industrial age. 20 to 30 years ago we weren’t part of a process, not part of a process, allowing to make decisions. Today it’s a metric era; everything is numbers, even theatre. As long as we think like big business, we have a problem.

Internet is changing the world; giving consumers a voice against big business. People only talk about you if you create a good experience. Why do we think stars are a draw? Because marketers tell us so. Now we can just get opinions on Twitter or Facebook. Now it is the renaissance, about the artistic experience. We’ve been missing human connection, and Broadway will not exist unless we change — must be about human connection.

What is the experience of being part of a good show? Standing in line like commuting. That’s not what theatre used to be like. Used to be special, and not like it now. Says we no longer feel a connection to people on stage; big money shows are mostly special effects, but we can get that on TV or in movies. Broadway is missing it because the best shows won’t attract masses.  Broadway numbers look great, so “we’ll keep delivering the same damn thing,” just like, say AOL. Need to evolve while still on top.

Competing with videos, with “way too much content.” Yes, there’s human connection, but it’s not different enough from other sources. What has happened on Broadway over 10 years? Up and up and up. Without changes, consumers will say they’ve had enough.

Now that audiences can connect directly with artists, marketing budgets will be reduced. You will see audiences encouraged to keep their phones on and communicate about theatre — and artists getting to know their audiences in unique way. Unnamed people will become stars, because new communication can make that happen. Talks about taking his children to Mary Poppins. Rushed in, rushed out, employees everywhere who didn’t care; interactions with people inside the theatre wasn’t a great experience. The kids loved the show, but Frank said it felt like going to a movie theatre. He says it’s the consumer’s own fault for saying it’s acceptable and that the next 20 years will be consumers fighting back. The future? He thinks artistic houses outside Broadway will be more successful than Broadway unless there’s real change.

2:50 PM

Kara Larson says that we are always predicting the future – but we’re terrible at it. Our dream of the experience at Disney world is delightful; we don’t anticipate heat, crowds, crying children. [HESherman note: why the Disney bashing today?] So if we’re terrible at making predictions, what can we do. Predictions in science and business are based in facts, but always leave out variable; sometimes too complex, sometimes we don’t know what the variable is. We have blind spots; situational bias; she cities a military commander in 1911 thinking airplanes would be of no value militarily, Margaret Thatcher saying no woman would be prime minister of England in her lifetime. Larson says it is nearly impossible for us to predict a future completely different from our own; we are trapped in its own history.

What of Broadway? Physical place, dream factory. In 20 years, predicting only that Broadway is a street and there will be theaters that people attend. Suggests we shouldn’t predict, but adapt (per Danish physicist). Accept change as it happens, accept it as it arrives. Or, create change — make it happen. Best way to predict the future is to create it, and let others adapt to you.

3:00 PM

Next presentation is by Steve Gullans. Speaks about the wisdom of crowds; opinion of 100 people is better than opinion of one, even an expert. But when we ask opinions, we have to consider whether we have the right crowd; you need the right opinion, the right audience, and how do you find them? He reviews networks in social networks – Facebook, Twitter, etc. [I have opted not to summarize this; it’s all theories about networks, social contagions, etc.; not uninteresting, but not new and feels textbook.]

Broadway could use social media better. How do you find the right networks? How do most people get connected to Broadway for information — connections are too distant. We’re not far from “smart networks,” people like you with same interests and issues, and they will be virtual, with key influencers at the center. Privacy is an issue and will be solved. We already have networks of friends, but not enough about themes; a matter of time before two cultures merge and smart networks will grow using emerging new technology. In the future, we will see what’s in the laboratory today in the real world: voice analysis, brain waves, smart fabrics, facial analysis; we will move from active input (typing) to passive input. A portion of audiences will have passive inputs uploading information to the cloud to be analyzed in a way that informs and improves what’s out there, including Broadway.

3:20 PM

Event organizer Damian Bazadona of Situation Interactive wants us to think of Broadway as an idea factory that opens hearts and minds. To be the best in 2032 is to fill our idea factory with the greatest talent over other idea factories — innovators. Technologies will open talent pipeline: 1) means to fuel our creativity, 2) access to join collaboration and 3) perspective to support our purpose; a perfect storm for talent. How will we win? By expanding the exposure of Broadway. Why so optimistic? Innovators will want financial opportunities for growth; drama and theatre arts among professions with lowest earning potential. Must increase exposure of Broadway to expand financial opportunities for innovators. Bazadona says our talent can’t be limited solely to theatres, and believes it is starting to happen; the more distribution, the more financial opportunities, the more people will choose to work on Broadway. How do you draw talent to field with limited supply and playing at 80% capacity? Only by expanding distribution channels. There must be growth potential for innovators to impact change. Innovators will want to believe in our greater purpose. Currents auds are 83% white with average household income of $250,000 — that’s not where innovators will come from. He notes that people’s willingness to pay ever higher prices shows commitment, but it’s an impediment to getting potential innovators to see the work. There is no financial model for new audience development on Broadway in a marketplace driven by supply. By growing business, we will alleviate reliance on ticket revenue and create new ways for people to touch Broadway.

In 2032: incredible original productions, full theaters with more diverse audiences, less risk from external factors (“screw those external factors” like press attention and arts education), healthy progressive investment, expanded potential for new works and a wider platform to share our greater purpose. “I think we can win the talent war.”

3:40 PM

Due to technical problems, I have lost my contemporaneous summary of the talk by Barry Kahn. From memory, his theme was one of greater cooperation, rather than competition for ticket sales. While I have not been editorializing to date, I will say that his theme was solid, but did not seem fully cognizant of the current means of Broadway sales, in particular his repeated references to box office sales at a time when most Broadway sales occur over the internet, or the various cooperative efforts made by The Broadway League or Serino Coyne’s “Season of Savings” promotions. He spoke about how fragmentation has led to the creation of new sales channels like Groupon, StubHub and ticket brokers and said that these channels should be combined with regular sales means for a better audience experience.

4:10 PM

South Bronx public school principal Vincent Gassetto is next up, following a video about students from his school attending Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark. He believes that schools partnering with Broadway has infinite possibilities. He needs to expose students to as many things as possible to hope they make a connection or find an interest that may propel them to a positive future, creative a drive or desire for something different. Planning Broadway trips are a logistical nightmare. But impact is immeasurable: students want to be in show, create sets, play  music — discussing their future. Attending the theatre also showed students positive social interaction. So how can schools contribute to making Broadway the best it can be in 20 years? Schools offer 1.1 million students, an opportunity to reach into population of young, talented and driven people who are nearby, and that can have an impact on the industry by creating new artists and audiences. If changes are not made, students will grow up without interest in industries like Broadway and arts education is not coming back anytime, so principals want to partner with industries to create arts education.

4:20 PM

Juan Enriquez is the next speaker. Wonders why are there so few medical and science plays on Broadway? What evidence is there that anyone would be interested? All of the television programs about science and medicine (Grey’s Anatomy, ER, M*A*S*H, etc). So how to we get back to what theatre did best? Addressing fatal flaws in heroes. Stories about the gods. At Harvard Medical School, students are reading Sophocles, in order to prompt students to address their studies with heart, not just science. Should theatre remind work about Sophocles? Because art is long, but life is short. Maybe we want to revisit this on  Broadway in the next 20 years. What else can we threaten people with beyond death? Immortality. This is a theme we’re constantly considering in life, but not seeing in our stories. How are we immortal? Facebook as an electronic tattoo, a global tattoo that will likely last longer than the body. Does Google equal immortality? We are moving to the side of the Greek immortal gods, instead of the flawed hero. Are we voyeurs or narcissists? We no longer need to be an architect to become immortal in the age of Google. From immortality, we are moving to pre-reincarnation, e.g. cloning. So perhaps theatre can explore these themes. [HE Sherman comment: Enriquez continues to present medical progress, with the purpose of provoking thought among creative artists. yet I wonder how many creative artists are here today to take up this information. And progress in life and science are certainly fodder for theatrical work, but isn’t all of life, not just the science of life itself?] What happens if we don’t just preserve the species, but fundamentally change what it is to be human?

4:45 PM

Entertainment market researcher Joseph Craig is next. He suggests that Broadway doesn’t think about or talk to their audiences on a regular basis.  He reviews audience demographics of Broadway and says that we are not replenishing audiences, and in 20 years they’ll be going to theaters not suited for their physical needs and limitations. Talks about how men don’t talk about shows they see. Cites annual audience of 12 million visitors to Broadway must grow; 80% capacity is not enough. Audiences 83% white, but that’s the race with slowest growth rate over 20 years. Are we going to be inclusive or exclusive? We have to get “See a show” into the lexicon of every visitor to New York; need collaboration to get people to Broadway in general. For future, Broadway must address aging audience whose income grows more limited as prices rise, the proliferation of distractions vying for entertainment dollars, the move of the “instant gratification” generation into our market and Broadway does not make it easy for them to participate, and how do we look beyond tourism growth and grow domestic audiences. Cites example of Las Vegas losing its appeal and need to rebuild and rebrand in late 80s and early 90s; Las Vegas had become a joke. So when was the last time that kids thought going to a Broadway show was hip? Cites Disney as being smart and bringing whole new generation into to the theatre [finally, someone who praises Disney]. Vegas experience shows Broadway the dangers of being complacent. “There’s a lot of cat fighting between shows on Broadway. We need to put that pettiness aside and think about what’s best for Broadway.”

5:00 PM

Gregory Mosher opens by saying we’ve reached the point in the event where everything has been said, but not everyone has said it. His talk: “Don’t Be The Turkey,” based on story about turkey who is so happy about growing bigger and bigger…until mid-November rolls around. Keeping the avian imagery, he talks about inductive reasoning — if we only see  white swans, we conclude all swans are white but they aren’t. As we move ahead to 2032 we must build on facts, not assumptions, even though we’re in the hope business. So we have to define our business. We’re in the theatre business — but tell that to The New York Times or Kodak, whose business has changed so radically. Customer satisfaction can actually hold us back, especially when faced with disruptive technology (i.e. electric car). We have to accept that we’re good at sustaining technologies, but hard to jump into disruptive if you’re great at the other. Broadway? Remember that we’re good, but that what makes us good is the thing that makes us get not good. Don’t expect same project margins or volume with disruptive technology. Get your disruptive tech people “off somewhere” so they can be on their own to become very excited about even small things that are only at the beginning. When you have a disruptive technology, go find a new audience. Overall, accept failure. Many great things were mistakes: chocolate chip cookie, Post-It Notes, Viagra. We don’t have the luxury of a generation to find what’s new. We must commit to tinkering and failure, because that generates research and progress. We must commit to encouraging.

Mosher talks about the change in neural patterns that allow him to multitask (on a computer), but overall we can’t engage deeply, with a book or (though he has the habit) in a play. New textbooks are multimedia. It’s useless to Google in order to truly understand evil, loyalty, friendship, or a broken heart. And that’s why we need Tony Kushner and a group of great artists to show us that.

“Broadway for 30 years overlapped with the work of the greatest artists. It may once again.” But Mosher doesn’t care. Serious work will play in smaller spaces because that will return us to the way it was for thousands of years.

5:20 PM

TedX Broadway has drawn to a close. What’s above may well be irrelevant once the videos from the day are posted for all to see, but in the meantime I do hope this provides some window into what went on at the event.

The murmuring from Canada was startling, and grew louder. First Toronto Globe and Mail theatre critic J. Kelly Nestruck tweeted about the cognitive dissonance of the Canadian national anthem being sung prior to a performance of the musical American Idiot. Various tweets followed, regarding both surprise at the practice and the evident irony of hearing “O Canada” before viewing a show about disaffected and damaged U.S. youths.  Nestruck then fanned the flames by writing a sustained piece about anthem-singing as a practice, which prompted a variety of responses, including one from producer Aubrey Dan, who champions the idea. As a kneejerk reaction, I pretty much sided with Kelly (with whom I had a pleasant lunch last month, pre-uproar). But the whole thing kept nagging at me.

As someone who attends very few civic or governmental gatherings, my primary association with the national anthem these days is from sporting events, which are also infrequent for me, but not alien. I began to contemplate why it is only athletic competitions which sustain our national anthem for so many people, since there audiences gather for many other activities, the performing arts unquestionably among them. Do artists, as some might wish to suggest, disdain our national identity? Are we playing into a negative stereotype by not, when together, uniting to express our appreciation for a country founded on freedom of speech and expression, the very thing we practice?

I then began to answer my own questions – even responding with contrary questions of my own. Gee, we hate curtain speeches and cell phone warning announcements as it is – do we really want to get up and sing? The çlash between an anthem (even ours) and a show like American Idiot would surely be repeated often; can you imagine the irony of “The Star Spangled Banner” before, say, Enron, Book of Mormon, or even Albee’s The American Dream? Would the famously difficult-to-sing “Banner” really set the right tone even for the most all-American of musicals, Anything Goes or Guys and Dolls? Even if the anthem made sense artistically, perhaps before South Pacific or Of Thee I Sing, should it be used as a commentary on or accessory to art, rather than for its primary purpose, as an expression of national pride?

There is, at least for many of those of my generation and younger, some mixed feelings about the U.S. anthem, as well as for its counterpart, The Pledge of Allegiance. They feel like vestiges of our youth, as we know them primarily from school days, where we first learned them and recited or sang them often. From lack of use, they have become symbols of our childhood, unfortunately, rather than vehicles with ongoing, profound meaning. I have watched many an adult sheepishly remove their baseball cap or place their hand near their hearts, self-conscious about public displays of national affection. The children of irony, we are embarrassed by the earnestness these acts require. All of these factors contribute to the incongruousness of imagining the national anthem being sung before theatre – or dance, opera, music and other cultural endeavors.

And yet…

In the days following the 9/11 attacks, I have heard stories of audiences both in New York and around the country who were deeply moved as they joined together for the anthem or the less-freighted “God Bless America.” Though I did not experience this myself, I cannot help but imagine that it was cathartic for performers and audience alike to unite for these songs and recitations that everyone knew, taking comfort in them as surely as they might find solace in a familiar prayer. The question is: why was this only acceptable for a short time after a national tragedy?

In countless blogs and discussions, online and off, we talk about how to build, strengthen and unify arts audiences, how to enhance the experience of attending a live event. And while I do think that the national anthem before every show, or “God Bless America” at every curtain call, would prove awkward and often undermine the aesthetic or message of many shows, I do wonder whether joining together only in laughter or applause in theatres truly builds the sense of belonging and community that are buzzwords for artistic and management folks alike these days.  Maybe we need to find a theatrical equivalent of these patriotic touchstones, lest our only shared moments at the theatre come as we chat in restroom lines with strangers or in the mega-mix sing-alongs at shows like Mamma Mia!

I do think many musicals would be the easiest place for this to occur, albeit at the “classic musical” primarily. I have this affectionate vision of audiences standing to belt out “There’s No Business Like Show Business” together, essentially warming themselves up for the entertainment yet to come with their own overture. Plays are more problematic in my musing on this subject, not least because no common text springs to mind; yet, imagine if audiences rose to intone, “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” a uniting phrase if ever there was one. You might dismiss this as a pipe dream (and it mostly is one), but even the briefest moments of audience consensus through speech or song might could a valuable addition to the live entertainment experience. Perhaps immersive theatre or “audience participation” need not be the only way to break down the barriers between the audience and the stage, or within the audience itself.

After all, even American Idiot brought out its cast for one last tune at the curtain call, with lyrics that might well serve as an anthem for all theatre: “It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right. I hope you had the time of your life.”

A blog post from the magazine Chatelaine, a publication/site heretofore unknown to me, has set Twitter abuzz with the assertion that a recent study (albeit highly unscientific) shows that people are happiest when having sex, exercising and going to the theatre.

The immediate impulse to cheer for the home team (theatre, of course; get out of the gutter and the gym) rapidly gives way to amusement about the company we keep in this investigation, and creative minds are no doubt at work pondering how to unite these diverse interests into a single happiness-generating activity to supersede all others.  It has already been suggested by others that chocolate might be added to the mix. Needless to say, I would be happy to tackle the research and development on this challenging artistic and social issue (if you know what I mean).

But I foresee a significant problem already, based on a business which has previously tried to merge several of life’s basic pleasures.

Once, perhaps 20 years ago, I dined at a Connecticut outpost of the Hooters restaurant chain, which has successfully combined pulchritude and food to the delight of many and the ire of probably just as many more. Without going into detail, I can attest to the fact that the chain’s signature attractions were in ample supply – but that the food was rather dire, and the accompanying sightseeing did not make up for it. Indeed, I have never again crossed the threshold of any of said establishments, for fear that I would develop a Pavlovian response that correlated attractive women with stomach-churning revulsion.

So even if we manage to address the not insignificant challenges of melding the top three pleasure-givers, as first identified by the respected sociological journal Marie Claire and popularized by Chateleine, I worry that we might well give rise to an entirely new set of psychosexual responses that would be our undoing. Imagine if a particularly successful coupling of sex and exercise took place, say, at a performance of a play the not-entirely-inappropriate Strindberg? The fear of a rise in Strindberg fetishists should be enough to give anyone pause (except, of course, psychanalysts, who would be jumping on their couches for joy). What if this multifaceted entertainment took on, say, O’Neill’s Strange Interlude? As the TV commercials warn us, after four hours, you should call your doctor, and that would result in a series of concurrent and perhaps amusing calls to EMTs for exhaustion and muscle cramps. Even if the theatre of choice were comedy, imagine the dysfunctions that would arise if one required activity at the farcical level of Noises Off to achieve fulfillment.

I will be setting up a think-tank/laboratory to explore this in greater detail, since success in combining these elements would surely sustain the fabulous invalid ad infinitum. But if science fiction has taught us nothing else, perhaps some elements of nature are best left untampered with, and maybe we’ll just have to stick with putting on great shows. Dammit.

On Monday evening, I posted the first transcript of a Twitter conversation between Peter Marks (@petermarksdrama) of The Washington Post and me and, as the title indicated with “Part 1,” there would be a “Part 2.” This conversation took place 10 days after the one shared in my previous post, on November 11. It began with Peter throwing some snark in my direction, by merging Hugh Jackman’s Broadway show, which had officially opened the night before, and my blog post of last week, on showing our emotions when we attend the theatre.

In prepping this transcript for posting, I have to say I found it even more rewarding a read than the first, because so many more voices joined the conversation, and because we didn’t focus so much on the role of the critic, but rather on everyone’s shared reaction to theatre, which transcends boundaries such as professional and amateur.

As before, the transcript is in reverse chronological order, so you must go to the bottom of this post and scroll upwards to track the conversation as it happened. I have taken the liberty of cleaning up a few typos and replacing some Twitter shorthand with complete words, for ease of reading.

Peter and I will finally meet face to face in four days at Arena Stage; I’m eager to see how our conversation flows, freed from the strictures of Twitter. It will irrevocably alter our Twitter conversation thereafter, since we will have met corporeally; maybe it’ll lead to yet more conversations for us all, both online and off.

With that: go to the bottom of this post and start scrolling. Enjoy.

*   *   *

reduced  12:36pm   @petermarksdrama @HESherman Also (again, IMHO) critics should use 1st person more in reviews. You ARE the story – it’s your opinion.

reduced  12:36pm   @petermarksdrama @HESherman IMHO, critics in an audience ARE part of the community. Leaving early during bows, screams ‘Look at me!’

petermarksdrama  12:13pm   @GwydionS @HESherman Agreed

GwydionS  12:12pm   @petermarksdrama @HESherman I think a critic needs to be both “of” and “outside” the audience.

MariselaTOrta  12:11pm   @dloehr @HESherman at my last reading the girlfriend of the actors couldn’t stop crying. Not quite my aim, but I want aud. to feel

petermarksdrama  12:11pm   @HESherman Since I only know you by tweets and tv guest starring roles, looking forward to meeting you next week, Howard.

petermarksdrama  12:09pm   YABBA DABBA DO @MT @HESherman You are not Fred Flintstone

MariselaTOrta  12:09pm   @petermarksdrama Thank you. I mainly write, well tragedies, I think there’s something to the crucible of pain, reveals our humanity

HESherman  12:07pm   @petermarksdrama You are not Fred Flintstone sliding down the back of the dino when the whistle blows. You’re part of audience.

HESherman12:07pm   @petermarksdrama That’s often apparent. But respect for those on stage? They see people running for the doors.

petermarksdrama  12:06pm  @HESherman You leave with that swipe about critics running out? We can’t even be the first out at quittin’ time?????

HESherman  12:06pm   @petermarksdrama I wonder what kind of crowd they thought was right specifically for you and that show. Very amused

Theatreontario  12:06pm   @petermarksdrama I guess it seems to me to be an effective journalist, you would have to be a member of the community

petermarksdrama  12:05pm   Howard–we r not there to send back waves of love. MT @HESherman I watched major critics rush out during applause for Hugh. Rude

HESherman  12:05pm   I’ve gotta sign off. Have a lunch in the wilds of Park Slope. If u don’t know, @petermarksdrama meet live next Sat @arenastage

Theatreontario  12:05pm   @petermarksdrama Not a member of the community? That idea surprises me – a different obligation doesn’t negate “membership”

petermarksdrama  12:04pm   @HESherman (They’d bussed in a group and comped them, clearly were expected to LOVE it for me.)

monicabyrne13  12:04pm   @ATPvporteous I disagree. I don’t write to get emotional reactions out of people. I write my truth; how they react is up to them.

petermarksdrama  12:03pm    @HESherman Another time, I left Promenade Theater during ovation. Guy w/head mike stopped me at door & said, “Get back up there and applaud”!

ATPvporteous  12:02pm   … & all we do is try 2 elicit specific emots/reacts from receivers. RT @monicabyrne13: …whether it gets an emotional reaction, up 2 receiver.

BrookeM1109  12:01pm    @HESherman hah I know! But I wouldn’t whisper anything into critics ears as @petermarksdrama said!

HESherman  12:01pm   @petermarksdrama SOUPY SALES!! Really? How subtle. Presumably for an O’Neill play.

petermarksdrama  12:01pm    @HESherman It was a Johnny Mercer revue, called DREAM. It was pretty awful.

HESherman  12:00pm   @brookem1109 Now you’ve blown it. You’re going to have to go to @woollymammothtc press nights in disguise! 😉

petermarksdrama  12:00pm   Most enthralling theater I’ve ever experienced was just watching her. MT @HESherman So your theatre was watching your child.

Sueyellen  11:59am    @HESherman @petermarksdrama @HughOnBroadway was 1 of the best theater experiences my 8 yr old has had in her short B’way life. Gr8 memory!!

monicabyrne13  11:59am   @HESherman Tell me about it. My emotions startle people. I try to warn them!

MrSamuelFrench  11:59am     Magic of the Theatre RT @petermarksdrama: Took my 6 year old daughter to Cathy Rigby’s PETER PAN & cried, just watching her watch the show

petermarksdrama  11:59am    @BrookeM1109 @HESherman On Bway, occasionally planted people next 2 me. Soupy Sales, once. Kept whispering 2 me isn’t this great?

HESherman  11:59am   @petermarksdrama So your theatre was watching your child. Cathy Rigby didn’t enter into your experience, except thru daughter.

sophieGG  11:58am  @petermarksdrama @HESherman I cried so hard in Ruined I couldn’t speak to my husband for an hour. That’s theater.

MrSamuelFrench  11:58am   @hesherman & so we call it “Cheesy” to guard against our true reaction? (Also I think I know the coffee commercial of which you speak.)

monicabyrne13  11:58am    @petermarksdrama @HESherman Last time I cried in theater: last line in VIBRATOR PLAY, woman to man, “You’re so beautiful.”

MrSamuelFrench  11:58am     @HESherman & so we call it “Cheesy” to guard against our true reaction? (Also I think I know the coffee comm. of which you speak.)

HESherman  11:58am   @monicabyrne13 That’s what I was told in my unsuccessfully dating days. But too much emotion can startle people.

KirstinFranko  11:58am  @HESherman @petermarksdrama I have to throw in a play like RUINED. It so strongly sent me on a roller coaster of emotions. Up & down

BrookeM1109  11:57am    @HESherman @petermarksdrama I sit a few rows back from critics to watch responses & also 2 c what rest of audience vibe is on press night

ATPvporteous  11:56am   I think opposite: ’emotionality’ not primary characteristic RT @monicabyrne13: I think it’s designed to BE an emotional expression…

HESherman  11:56am   @petermarksdrama Leadership thought that was the case. I quickly learned that a smile could mean thinking of a nasty phrase.

petermarksdrama  11:56am  @monicabyrne13 @HESherman Took my 6 year old daughter to Cathy Rigby’s PETER PAN year ago and cried, just watching her watch the show.

HESherman  11:56am   @mrsamuelfrench Or are we simply afraid to admit to others that we can be so affected by “entertainment”?

Bflood28  11:56am    @petermarksdrama @HESherman I’m still against that. I was still shocked when Bway theatres started doing that. Nederlander yes?

monicabyrne13  11:55am  @petermarksdrama @HESherman I think showing vulnerability is always wonderful. 🙂 Be proud.

MrSamuelFrench  11:55am   @HESherman @petermarksdrama Maybe we perceive it “cheesy” because it’s familiar. Universality & ability 2 relate drives emotion, no?

HESherman  11:55am   @petermarksdrama I watched Frank Rich be very moved by FALSETTOS @hartfordstage. He later wrote what show meant to him him.

petermarksdrama  11:55am  @HESherman Wait–watch 4 laughing or crying crix? And what would u report back: “She’s doubled over–we’re home free!”? @pmdhes

ArtHennessey  11:54am    RT @petermarksdrama: @HESherman @monicabyrne13 Always odd as critic to be crying as lights come up. Sometimes embarrassed; sometimes proud.

KirstinFranko  11:54am  @HESherman @petermarksdrama I know exactly that coffee commercial! It gets me too! But I’m a real emotional giver, so no surprise

HESherman  11:54am   @petermarksdrama In my p.r. days, I was sometimes assigned to watch important critics for emotional reaction.

petermarksdrama  11:54am    @HESherman Jackman belong on Bway? You bet. He’s earned his solo act. wish he’d taken more risks w/ it. He’s got wattage 2 do that

HESherman  11:53am   @petermarksdrama Going back to your opening salvo, did you think Hugh doesn’t belong on Broadway?

petermarksdrama  11:52am  @HESherman @monicabyrne13 Always odd as critic to be crying as lights come up. Sometimes embarrassed; sometimes proud.

Bflood28  11:52am  @HESherman @Cirque isn’t that part of equation however? Successful Vegas shows must be flashy/sexy/relatively brief

monicabyrne13  11:51am   @petermarksdrama @HESherman @GratuitousV In my opinion, no, but response is highly variable among individual recipients. I.e. “taste.”

HESherman  11:51am   @bflood28 We were speaking more of classic 60s Vegas and current @Cirque shows, not Broadway going to Vegas.

petermarksdrama  11:51am  @Bflood28 @HESherman And used to be only in Vegas you brought your drinks to your seat! (Theaters even have cup holders!) Bway nxt?

ATPvporteous  11:50am   Could think v nothing else 4 months. Interesting: saw it on TV. @kanessie Wept at RSC’s NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. Smike. Still choke up.

HESherman  11:50am   @petermarksdrama I was thinking about Richard Maxwell’s work, but I’ve only read about, never seen (though I adore Jan).

Bflood28  11:50am  @HESherman @petermarksdrama true, but most broadway transfers to Vegas must be severely cut & shortened due to attention span deficit

petermarksdrama  11:49am    @monicabyrne13 @HESherman @GratuitousV Without emotional response, can piece be considered successful?

HESherman  11:49am   @petermarksdrama But if it hits something primal, why is it cheesy? There’s a coffee commercial every Xmas that gets to me.

petermarksdrama  11:49am   @HESherman Yes re draining emotion. And that can be effective, witty. See works of Richard Maxwell (brother of Jan)

iamJoePapp  11:48am   Boy, I hated the critics. I could have killed each and every one of them.

HESherman  11:48am   @petermarksdrama Aren’t there artists who drain emotion from work intentionally? Tho guess even that provokes emotion in auds

petermarksdrama  11:47am  @HESherman I write sparingly in first person. I think people think you’re making yourself the story.

monicabyrne13  11:47am  @HESherman @GratuitousV I think it’s designed to BE an emotional expression; whether it gets an emotional reaction is up to the receiver.

HESherman  11:46am   @petermarksdrama Do you ever speak of yourself in the first person when reviewing, and admit direct emotional impact?

petermarksdrama  11:46am  @HESherman One of hardest aspects of reviewing is examining own response: “Jeez, why am I crying? This scene is so cheesy!”

petermarksdrama  11:44am  @GratuitousV @dloehr @HESherman re all art manip. emotions. It’s not whole experience without.

petermarksdrama  11:44am   @HESherman @kanessie Wept at end of RSC’s NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. Smike. Still choke up.

HESherman  11:43am   @petermarksdrama I do wonder how show developed. Hugh spoke of how quickly it was put together for San Francisco.

Kanessie  11:42am   @petermarksdrama @HESherman Six Years by Shar White, wept openly and remembered why I love theatre.

HESherman  11:42am   @petermarksdrama I thought NEXT TO NORMAL grew enormously and I loved it when it returned to NYC, post @arenastage. But no tears.

Petermarksdrama  11:41am   @HESherman And I did see O. Fantastic.

HESherman  11:41am   @petermarksdrama When I 1st saw NEXT TO NORMAL in NY, thought about leaving at intermission. At that point, some was offensive

GratuitousV  11:41am   @petermarksdrama @dloehr @HESherman I think all art is manipulative, designed to provoke an emotional reaction. That’s the point, IMHO.

MrSamuelFrench  11:40am   @petermarksdrama But do you also enjoy those plays that aim to make you laugh and not wrench the old heart strings?

Petermarksdrama  11:40am   @HESherman Invoked Vegas cuz he resorts to such obvious material. “Over The Rainbow”? “Mack the Knife”? “Luck be a Lady” Come on!

HESherman  11:40am   @moorejohn Another critic joins us. John, can you convey to readers why they might value a difficult emotional experience?

Calindrome  11:40am   I am dead serious when I say @petermarksdrama and @HESherman should have their own show. They’re in fine form today. Follow

Petermarksdrama  11:39am   @HESherman sob every time I see NEXT TO NORMAL. Hits me in sensitive places. cry @ 110 IN SHADE ’cause I have daughter named Lizzie

HESherman  11:38am   @petermarksdrama Why did you invoke Vegas re Hugh Jackman. Even Vegas has great art now. Have u seen O or LOVE?

Moorejohn 11:38am   Makes me sad. RT @HESherman I think theaters are afraid of, and challenged by, deeply moving pieces. “Who wants to buy a ticket to be sad?”

HESherman  11:37am   @petermarksdrama It becomes a fine distinction. You must realize we’re try to “turn” you.

dloehr  11:37am   @HESherman Indeed. And pumped into the home, it can be revisited on demand. A life lived in the moment, in the room, not so much.

Petermarksdrama  11:36am   @HESherman re: presence on Twitter. No, don’t want to join community. Want to enjoy engaging with community.

HESherman  11:36am   @dloehr Emotion that comes into your living room free in very different than paying to go out in order to be shattered.

SMLois  11:36am   RT @petermarksdrama: God, they’re practically all that’s worth living for MT @HESherman I think theaters are afraid of deeply moving pieces.

Petermarksdrama  11:35am  God, they’re practically all that’s worth living for MT @HESherman I think theaters are afraid of deeply moving pieces.

HESherman  11:35am   @petermarksdrama Doesn’t your presence on Twitter suggest you want to be part of the theatre community? Isn’t isolation ending?

dloehr  11:34am   @HESherman There’s a quiet moment in the Twilight Zone episode, “In Praise of Pip,” where Jack Klugman rips my heart out.

HESherman  11:34am   @petermarksdrama I think theaters are afraid of, and challenged by, deeply moving pieces. “Who wants to buy a ticket to be sad?”

dloehr  11:33am   @HESherman Very much so. (Up till then, only Snoopy Came Home & Jim Henson’s memorial had such a powerful effect on me.)

HESherman  11:33am   @petermarksdrama You think the comedy and tragedy masks have currency today? Not vestigial?

Petermarksdrama  11:33am  @HESherman Ah because when the seams show, you feel compelled to point them out. We’re journalists, not members of theater community

dloehr  11:32am   @petermarksdrama @HESherman Plot involved the Joker kidnapping baby boys & threatening to kill them. Suddenly, that was high stakes for me.

HESherman  11:31am   @petermarksdrama Then why do critics focus on intellectual response or picking on “tribute to aboriginal culture” and just enjoy?

Petermarksdrama  11:31am    @HESherman “Play me didgeridoo, Lou…”

dloehr  11:31am   @petermarksdrama @HESherman Though, after my 1st son was born, I did start crying reading a Batman novel. I kid you not. (cont’d)

HESherman  11:30am   @dloehr I teared up writing my blog. The question is not what we evoke in ourselves, but in others.

dloehr  11:30am    @petermarksdrama @HESherman Absolutely. It’s rare for other media to affect me like that. I think it’s the shared moment in the room.

Petermarksdrama  11:30am    @HESherman But I was unclear what you were saying to theaters–that they don’t market the “emotion” in their productions?

HESherman  11:29am    @petermarksdrama You’ll laugh, but during that segment, I was hoping he’d cover “Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport.”

Petermarksdrama  11:28am   @dloehr @HESherman I think emotional content is whole point of theater–that’s why it’s represented by masks of laughter and grief

HESherman  11:28am   @petermarksdrama Yes I assess content, but I see my role in theatre ecosystem as evangelist, not critic

dloehr  11:27am   @petermarksdrama @HESherman There’s a scene in one of my scripts that always gets me, a story nearly verbatim from my grandfather.

Petermarksdrama  11:27am   @HESherman But don’t you assess the content? You bought the whole tribute to aboriginal culture?

HESherman  11:27am   @petermarksdrama I wasn’t writing advocacy piece for emotional epiphanies. But I do think profound emotion isn’t spoken of often

Petermarksdrama  11:26am    @HESherman Listen, I take your point–I cry more at theater than I do at weddings.

HESherman  11:25am   @petermarksdrama I’m not critic, so re @realhughjackman, I thought it was a terrif piece of entertainment, whatever the venue

HESherman  11:24am   @petermarksdrama I knew you would start in with me about the crying blog post, but isn’t cynicism where crix & auds diverge?

Petermarksdrama  11:23am  @HESherman So Howard — did you cry during Hugh Jackman’s show? The man’s irresistible, but wasn’t the whole thing a little bit Vegas?

Over the past 48 hours, the culture pages in England have been filled with reports which are all variants of the same story: “Walkouts abound at The Royal Shakespeare Company’s Marat/Sade.” I first spotted this on Sunday in The Daily Mail and since then, the BBC, The Guardian and The Telegraph, among many others, have all piled on.

Marat/Sade, while an acknowledged modern classic, is a challenging work with content that surely doesn’t appeal to all audiences. So it shouldn’t really surprise anyone that a play about the Marquis de Sade might provoke squirming and even early exits; I suspect that Doug Wright’s Quills, also about de Sade’s incarceration at Charenton, sent some people fleeing from assorted theatres as well. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if artists involved in various productions of both of these plays see the odd hasty retreat as a sign that they’re succeeding, a badge of honor.

So whether the current press frenzy is a result of an opportunity to portray theatre as transgressive and dangerous during a time when arts support is already challenged, or if it’s a case of schadenfreude to see the fortunes of the august RSC brought into question, or if the show is in fact deeply off-putting – or simply not a good production – I really can’t say. But the reports have set tongues wagging on this side of the Atlantic as well, prompting online chat about whether it’s right to walk out of a show, whether anyone has personally walked out of a show, and so on.  As this seems to be snowballing, I cannot resist sharing a few thoughts and admissions.

Let me start by saying that I have worked on shows that have prompted audience walkouts – and I mean real walkouts, during the show, not politely at intermission. Off-hand, I recall people exiting mid-scene from two productions in particular at Hartford Stage: a 1986 production of Sam Shepard’s The Tooth of Crime and a 1990 interpretation of Büchner’s Woyzeck by director Richard Foreman (which ran, in total, only 70 minutes, but some folks just couldn’t wait to escape). As staff of an institution where I was, in part, responsible for drawing in audiences, this was troubling. But given the artistic choices, it was also inevitable; we did our utmost to prepare the audience for what they would be experiencing before they went in, and then had to let the chips fall where they may.

I consider the mid-scene walk out to be a very strong statement; it is at best impolite, at worst a middle finger thrust upwards at all involved (even if the director, designers, author and company leadership aren’t there to see it first-hand in most cases). During these plays, the people I saw leave made no attempt to do so surreptitiously; they haughtily stood and marched indignantly up the aisles, determined that others would register their statement. In one instance during Tooth of Crime, actor David Patrick Kelly (who was, coincidentally, also our Woyzeck), costumed with a pistol, paused the action as one couple left loudly and prominently – and leveled his weapon at their backs until they were completely gone, to the profound amusement of all who remained, which was the majority of the audience.

If we believe theatre to be a conversation with an audience, and at times a provocative or confrontational one, then perhaps the walk-out isn’t something to look down upon. It certainly beats staying and heckling the cast for material they did not create, but only take part in interpreting. It is perhaps the one opportunity the audience has to express displeasure during a performance, beyond stony silence (which can mean just about anything); theatre audiences do not have the outlet of booing, as opera seems to, but even then the “commentary” is reserved for curtain calls.

I have never walked out of a show mid-scene, or even between scenes, but I will confess to having quietly departed at intermission a few times over the years (never during my tenure at the American Theatre Wing, where such an action, if known, could have had repercussions in connection with The Tony Awards). But there have been times when the lure of television or bed have been stronger than the appeal of a second act, though I am not proud of this; in one case, I left because I was – for perhaps the only time in my life – offended on behalf of my religion and had no desire to watch it subjected to more ridicule. I have no doubt that had I willed myself to stay for some of those second acts, my ultimate opinion of the show concerned might have shifted, but at these times, I wasn’t patient enough to wait and see.

Was I taking the coward’s way out, rather than making a statement? I don’t think so, since every actor I’ve ever spoken with tells me how acutely aware they are, from the stage, of what goes on in the house. A full house in act one followed by one dotted with empty seats in act two speaks volumes. But I bet it’s preferable to audience members fidgeting in their seats, repeatedly checking their watches or glaring at their companions from time to time.

The problem with the walk-out, be it ostentatious or subtle, is that, as I alluded to earlier, it rarely reaches the people to whom the opinion is most properly expressed. They experience it, if at all, only through a stage manager or house manager’s report, and it is the house manager, box office personnel and even volunteer ushers who absorb the displeasure first-hand. Though it feels declarative as it happens, it is a fairly impotent act.

There is a corollary act, more acceptable but no less pointless: the withholding of applause at a curtain call. I have, as I know others have, at times been so miserable at a production that I am disinclined to applaud. But if it is the story, or the production concept which dismays me, withholding applause insults only the actors, who have just spent several hours telling me a story in the manner they’ve been asked to. I may feel better, but it is ineffective – the loss of my two hands hardly register in the overall decibel level of an ovation, nor does remaining seated while the rest of the audience rises to its feet visibly alter a standing horde.

I am not writing to endorse the walkout, since it is an expression of opinion that is misdirected and often falls on deaf ears. I feel for the actors in the current Marat/Sade, since surely they are giving their all, regardless of whether they in fact feel good about the show. But I cannot help but feel that a reduced audience is better than an actively hostile one.

What would I like people to take away from this? That sometimes a walkout is just a walkout, and it can be a sign of failure or even success. It really shouldn’t rise to the level of news coverage, let alone international attention, unless the audience is so decimated after the interval that half the crowd has fled, night after night after night. If you feel you must leave, at least wait for intermission, or if you must go sooner, a scene break. You owe that courtesy to the actors and your fellow audience members; remember, this is much more than changing a channel or stopping a film midstream at home. But if you really want to let the right people know what you think, write a letter or send an e-mail to the producer or company leadership; even tweets may never reach the decision makers.

No one should feel compelled to be miserable at the theatre. Leave if you must – that’s your right. But walk, don’t run.

This post originally appeared on the 2amtheatre website.

An exaggerated example of a blue-haired senior, via “Are You Being Served?”

I suspect that, for many working in the arts, the weekday matinee is no man’s land.

I’m not suggesting that we don’t operate them, or deal with them, but I do wonder the last time any of you have had occasion to attend one as a member of the audience. After all, we’re usually too busy working in the arts to go to a Wednesday matinee, and it’s probably something we instinctively avoid, given the opportunity.

Why? I suspect it is because of our ingrained aversion to the blue hairs.

Now don’t pretend you don’t know the term. We’ve all used it. I can’t even remember how long I’ve known it, or where I learned it. But for those who are in denial, “blue hairs” refers to the senior audience that frequents matinees, named for a hair coloring with a bluish tinge popular a long time ago. I suspect that even the blue hairs look disparagingly at blue hair, and that the term is vestigial of an earlier time. But it is, no matter how you slice it, a form of disparagement, not endearment.

Over the past couple of months, I have had the occasion to attend two weekday matinees: one in New York, one at a regional theatre; one in the company of a senior citizen in his 80s, one by myself. Because of the ingrained prejudices, I expected an audience of candy-wrapper-crinkling, hearing-aid-feedbacking, loudly-speaking-during-the-show-so-they-could-be-heard-by-everyone patrons.  Isn’t that your image?

Well I can report that none of the above were true, at least no more so than at any other performance I’ve attended lately. What did not happen, I should report, is that no one’s cell phone rang during the show, and certainly no one initiated or accepted a call at any time during the performance.

Now in some quarters, the weekday matinee is a thing of the past. The rise of the working woman in the 70s dissipated one of the core constituencies for these performances, leaving retirees and student groups (which makes for a fascinating mix when equally balanced, with revelatory post-show discussions). Many shows both commercial and non-profit opt for two-show days on Saturdays and Sundays in order to bypass the weekday matinee. But they persist – and so do their loyal audiences.

So why are these performances merely tolerated by those on the inside? Yes, it’s an audience that may be less computer and internet savvy than others; they still need to speak to a human being to buy their tickets. Yes, they may move more slowly than other audiences, but that’s a physical issue, not an intentional one. Is their pre-show chatter louder than some audiences? Sure, but that’s because hearing loss is a natural progression in our lives, not some voluntary game played by the old upon the young for sport.

My recent matinee attendance was eye-opening precisely because I haven’t had the experience in so very long (weekday matinees were staples of school vacations in high school and college, but that’s almost three decades ago) and because the experience was only marginally different than any other performance I ever attend (save, indeed, for the hair coloring, which tends to white, or baldness, where I fit right in). Adding to my sensitivity is the fact that I had, unusually for someone my age, cataract surgery on both eyes in May, and because my wife and I both suffer from chronic neck and shoulder pain which can make sitting in the theatre profoundly uncomfortable. And surely this is just a taste of things to come.

I have every intention of going to the theatre as long as I am able (perhaps another three or four decades if I’m lucky) and as I find myself poised between theatergoing novice and lifelong veteran, I know that I may someday be relegated to the ranks of the once blue-haired, perhaps by virtue of failing eyesight (making it difficult to drive or even be out at night), reliance on civic or private transportation when I can no longer drive myself, or even the tyranny of the early dinner schedule at an assisted living facility. But so long as I’m breathing and mobile, I’ll go to theatre.

Will I deserve anyone’s condescension, let alone scorn, at that point in my life? Surely not. Will my wide-ranging aesthetic suddenly lapse into “just wanting to be entertained,” causing me to seek less challenging work? I hope not, and I doubt it. Might I need a larger print program, or be challenged by steps, or even need audio amplification or audio described performances? It’s entirely possible, and I certainly hope they’ll be available to me without stigma.

I write of these issues because in this era of voluminous blogs about audience development and the cultivation of new audiences, our senior audience seems to be absent. Let me make absolutely clear: the necessity of finding new theatergoers and insuring the long-term health of the form is essential, as is arts education in our schools; nothing in this essay should suggest otherwise. But I fear that an important constituency is being largely ignored, at least in our rhetoric these days, and that we do so out of short-sightedness.

Those who attend our weekday matinees (and often make up a significant percentage of weekend matinee audiences as well) are the same people who have been attending and supporting theatre throughout their lives. They do not suddenly appear at our box offices at age 70 simply because they have nothing else to do, but rather because they value what we do. Indeed, they may have vast knowledge of theatrical work dating back a half-century or more. Instead of being vestiges themselves, they may in fact be untapped resources, not simply fans to be shunted into our volunteer usher or docent corps. And to be perfectly honest, if we have and continue to play meaningful roles in their lives, we may receive their support even after they can no longer sit in our seats.

While I suspect that those inside theatres are indulgent of their senior audiences even when such indulgence might drift into being patronizing, I see evidence of this arts ageism in my forays on the web. Not long ago, one Twitter wit asked where theatre today would be without Social Security, only to have another wag double down by making the jibe specific to a particular theatre here in New York. A British website focused on “A Younger Theatre” questioned the repertoire at one of that country’s subsidized theatres for one work which was deemed insufficiently appealing to, well, a younger audience. In Washington DC, discounting tickets for seniors (and students) is under investigation for being a discriminatory practice.

In the creation of art, we celebrate and support the new, the different, the challenging, the innovative. But let’s remember that it was ever thus, and the audience that frequents our matinees may have once been early supporters of the theatres they attend, or the audience for fringe theatre before even such a term was common, whether in Greenwich Village or Seattle.

As someone who has begun to mark my life by how many revivals I now see of work which I saw in its premiere, as I prepare to leave the demographic designated by ratings services and ad agencies as desirable, as I move from the era of weddings and births to, sadly, the era of funerals, theatre will remain my joy and my refuge, and I believe it should be that for every patron. We need to nurture and support all of our audiences for the many things that we can bring to them and they can bring to us, including standing by us when some would marginalize our importance and even our existence in an ever-changing economic and social reality.

Because, dammit, I expect theatre to be there for me in another quarter century, and whatever my falterings and failings, I want to be part of an audience, and not as a special interest to be tolerated. Or else I will truly be blue.

This post originally appeared on the 2amtheatre website.