Hearing that the circus is coming to town usually evokes idyllic reveries of a parade of animals trouping down Main Street, the Big Top going up, the smell of sawdust and cotton candy. But when the circus in question is the multinational behemoth Cirque du Soleil, and they ditch the Big Top to stand in the reflected glare of Broadway’s lights, the effect on the Great White Way is somewhat chilling.

Cirque’s Zarkana made its debut last summer at Radio City Music Hall, just one avenue away from Mamma Mia! and Wicked. While Cirque had played New York many times over the years, they’d previously pitched their tent, literally, at the outlying Battery Park City or Randall’s Island, or occupied the unloved Theatre at Madison Square Garden with an oddity called Wintuk. But Zarkana changed the playing field, putting up to 54,000 available tickets a week on the market barely outside the Broadway district, accompanied by a marketing campaign commensurate with that capacity and a nearly four month residency.

While it’s impossible to cite any single cause for what anecdotally seemed a down summer in 2011 for shows that were less than smash hits, there was a lot of murmuring about the Cirque effect. That murmur approached a grumble when tickets were made available at TKTS, the Times Square half-price booth, vying for customers using the exact same tool as Broadway shows with available seats.

On the one hand, the presence of tickets at TKTS suggested that Zarkana was less than a smash. But it also meant that when tourists were seeking entertainment options, the widely marketed brand of Cirque was competing with shows that may have only had a couple of months to begin establishing themselves in the public consciousness. If a family was choosing between a new musical unannointed by the Tonys or the pinnacle of modern circus arts, the choice wasn’t necessarily hard. And the scale was daunting: with more than 5400 seats per performance and as many as ten shows a week, the ticket inventory in midtown Manhattan was expanded considerably; all of Broadway – if every theatre has a show on concurrently, which is rare – has just under 400,000 seats to sell each week.

The plan, it was generally known, was for Zarkana to return annually for five summers. As it turns out, Zarkana must have truly underperformed, because this year is already being advertised as the last chance to catch the show in NYC, the run was dropped from 152 to 121 performances, in June the balcony isn’t even being put on sale, the show has been trimmed from two acts to a 90 minute one-act, and more. While hardly the debacle that Cirque’s previous original Manhattan show, Banana Shpeel, had been (it was radically altered with little success during a protracted preview period at The Beacon Theatre), Zarkana is certainly one of the Montreal company’s rare misfires (although they’re hoping its fortunes will change in Las Vegas, its next home). No doubt this is a relief to Broadway producers, who are more than ready to wave goodbye to the clowns and acrobats that, for their money, can’t depart fast enough.  But Cirque may not give up: thwarted in their effort at a permanent home on 42^nd Street a few years back, they may not be ready to admit defeat in establishing, if not a year-round beachhead, at least a perennial success in such a prominent international destination.

It does raise the question of what happens to the cavernous yet elegant Radio City Music Hall now. Its management has been after a sit-down summer attraction for some time (35 years ago, they produced their own summer spectaculars, running some 150 performances as well). So do they have a back-up plan of their own– or might Cirque rotate in another show from its menu of productions? Is it possible that Radio City will return to a summer of one and two night concert stands, including the return of The Tony Awards, which were displaced in favor of a months-long booking? We know that while nature abhors a vacuum, the owner of an entertainment venue hates empty seats or an empty hall even more. Broadway may have dodged long-term Zarkana damage, but perhaps something equally threatening, or even more so, is waiting in the wings.

To begin, an exercise. Below you’ll see four groups of shows, labeled A through D. Groups A and B have a common factor, as do groups C and D. Take a moment to see whether you spot the common ground. Now imagine the Jeopardy theme playing.

Group A: Grey Gardens, Hairspray, Once, Passion, The Producers, Nine, The Light in the Piazza

Group B: Sweet Smell of Success, Big, Nick and Nora, Carrie, The Red Shoes, Footloose

Group C: Once, Jersey Boys, Movin’ Out, Contact, Fosse, Crazy for You, Ain’t Misbehavin’

Group D: Good Vibrations, Never Gonna Dance, Saturday Night Fever, Swinging on a Star, Buddy, The Look of Love

Did you get it? A and B are both lists of musicals based on movies, groups C and D are lists of musicals which came to Broadway with scores that had originally been written for other media.

If you are a fan of Broadway musicals, odds are you’d be quick to declare your affinity, or at least respect, for the shows in Groups A and C, while I imagine you’re unlikely to come out with passionate statements about the artistry of the shows in Groups B and D. Although not shown above, I also suspect that my Group E would meet with general favor – Next to Normal, The 25^th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, Urinetown, Book of Mormon, In The Heights – namely, the supposedly extinct, wholly original musical.

Why am I playing this parlor game? It’s because I hear certain assumptions about musicals, and particularly Broadway musicals, all the time and they tend to be generalizations, based on recent and often selective memory. So I set out to look at whether Broadway is being overrun by musicals based on movies, or jukebox musicals, thinking I’d look at the past 10 or 15 years, but that turned into 20, then 25, and finally I ended up studying all of the new musicals to play Broadway since the 1975-76 season.

Why 75-76? Because just as Oklahoma! was seen as a watershed in the development of musical theatre, I feel I can argue that the next (and to date, perhaps only other) watershed musical was A Chorus Line. While a look all the way back to the season of Oklahoma! might be edifying, both Broadway and society in general have changed radically in that time; without undertaking a master’s thesis (or without an intern to wrangle data for me), this more modern era seemed manageable.

To get right to the first headline: yes, there are more musicals based on movies than there used to be; there were four this year and five last year. The year A Chorus Line debuted, there wasn’t a single movie-based musical, so that might send you running to proclaim how great things used to be. In fact, you’d be further buoyed when I told you that season saw musicals based on classic Greek literature, Shakespeare and U.S. and world history. But I’d deflate you when I told you those shows were the major flops Home Sweet Homer, Rockabye Hamlet, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and Rex. A pedigreed source isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.

What we did see more of back in the 70s were musicals based on books or plays which had also been made into movies, although the source cited for the musical was usually the original material; some examples of this are Chicago (a play, later the film Roxie Hart),  The Grand Tour (the play Jacobowsky and the Colonel, later the Danny Kaye film Me and the Colonel), and Sarava (the book and film Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands).  But what’s worth noting as well is that these weren’t books or films which were hugely well known and, in those pre-VCR days, they weren’t easily found either.  For audiences and critics alike, they may have felt fairly new overall, successful source or not.

Though most think it of as a recent phenomenon, the jukebox musical was also already prevalent. Existing musical materials were frequently drafted into Broadway duty, although the early tendency was to do so in the form of a revue (Ain’t Misbehavin’, Eubie); in 79-80, a Cole Porter score was grafted (albeit unsuccessfully) onto Philip Barry’s Holiday as Happy New Year. In this era, perhaps the first major book-based jukebox musical was My One and Only, a troubled production that came out on top with a Gershwin score, following efforts by young avant-gardist Peter Sellars to crossbreed the songs with a Gorky play.

Sources in the 80s ranged from novels to comic books to plays to original stories to U.S. history, and movie-based musicals typically had literary antecedents, such as La Cage aux Folles and Carrie. The first shows I spotted in my sample that were based on original screenplays were from the 78-79 season: King of Hearts and Ballroom, the latter from a TV movie (although musical from movies certainly predated that; Promises Promises, from Billy Wilder’s The Apartment, is merely one prior example).  Because films may also have their own source material, it’s sometimes hard to tease out when the movie in musical pattern really took hold (or if it was in fact something new), but the mid 90s seem to be a point at which they became more persistently present.

Yet now I’ll venture my first strong opinion on this, which is that, as Group A up at the top reveals, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with musicals based on movies. When it is done with enough craft, with care and talent, no one begrudges a show its origins, although there is a tendency to now judge the source even before the show is produced. It would also appear that, in many cases, the more successful examples of this genre are shows drawn from lesser-known films; the rush to translate recent hit films hasn’t necessarily meant greater box office success. Barreling ahead, I’ll say that while I think we need original scores lest the craft of musical theatre songwriting be lost, there have been terrifically entertaining and creative shows based on music cobbled together from other sources, whether it be earlier musicals, pop radio or a songwriter’s catalogue. Again, the only question is whether it’s done artfully.

My rather wide spreadsheet built for this overview ended up showing me some things I did not expect, which play into our perception of Broadway being “overrun” with jukebox musicals and musicals based on movies. By looking at Broadway seasons, shorn of all plays (new and classic), concert bookings (which used to be quite frequent) and revivals, an interesting picture of new musicals in the post-Chorus Line age emerges. A rather small picture.

Based on my research, there were 322 new musicals on Broadway in the past 37 years – which works out to an average of nearly nine a year. That is a startlingly small number when you consider that musical theatre is considered to be one of the major art forms that is innately American, and Broadway, whether we like it or not, remains the prime showcase for that work and the engine for its economic success.  Yes, my time period covered the dark days of the eighties and early 90s, when Times Square was supposedly at its lowest. That didn’t keep critical and popular successes from arriving: A Chorus Line, Sweeney Todd, Dreamgirls, Big River, Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon, The Secret Garden, Tommy and more. What was happening was that fewer new shows were opening – coming off an already small number.

We’re not talking about a vast gap; in the late 70s, an average of 12 new shows opened each season, as already mentioned, the 37-year average is 9 (8.7 exactly). There were some truly dark years, but they’re not so long ago: 94-95 (2 new musicals), 2000-01 (five) and 01-02 (six).  As the number of new shows dropped, the scales tipped even more disproportionately to movie-based and jukebox musicals. But there’s no clear pattern which demonstrates these type of shows having usurped or corrupted Broadway; without them, the number of musicals might be even lower. There simply aren’t other musicals being produced to fill out the roster.

It is true that without celebrities, and there are few bankable musical stars these days, producers are looking for titles or music with built in marketing pull, because when you’re raising $10 or $12 million for one show, you’re looking to mitigate risk. That said, look at my B and D lists and you know that there’s no sure thing. Yet that doesn’t stop people from trying to maximize potential, and that same rationale speaks to the affinity for revivals as well (although I’ve not studied whether there’s been a commensurate increase in musical revivals to balance out the loss of new shows). I will note that Broadway did once seem even more musical, as the 70s and 80s saw a plethora of short-run concerts, with a roster of performers that resembled those of Vegas showrooms, including Engelbert Humperdinck, Bing Crosby, Shirley Bassey, Peter Allen, and Patti LaBelle, as well as the occasional dance company, ice show (!) and three editions of Oba Oba.

The success of the major long-running shows, ushered in by A Chorus Line, has also served to hold down the potential for new musicals on Broadway, marketing and financing aside. With shows settling in for 10, 15, 20 year runs, there simply aren’t enough of the big musical houses available, and so fewer shows get on. There are only 40 Broadway theatres, and many are too small to sensibly house a musical. The Broadway musical is a victim of its present day success and a finite amount of space.

Although I can now speak only anecdotally, I daresay there are more people than ever studying and writing new musicals. In contrast to the golden age of the 40s and 50s, when the skill of writing musicals was learned on the job or through mentorships, we now have undergraduate and graduate programs in musical theatre; the regional theatre network, founded primarily to mount plays, has discovered the artistic and economic appeal of musicals; and there are countless developmental opportunities under a variety of auspices. Yet with rare exceptions, truly successful musicals are made on Broadway, the opportunities there have diminished, and every hit new musical suppresses the potential for other shows for years at a time. The musical development complex runs counterintuitively to the chances for major production.

Musicals made from movies will not kill the American musical, as they only succeed when they’re done well. Jukebox musicals will not eliminate new musical scores, because only the shrewdest interpolations yield a successful show. What will keep the American musical at low ebb is: a) a risk-averse mindset among some producers that opts for the familiar over the unknown, despite the great success in the recent past of wholly original work, b) the almost single-minded focus on Broadway as the locus of all musical success when it is only the most lucrative market for musicals; c) the inability of Broadway to provide sufficient berths for a higher number of new musicals annually; and d) the perpetual generation of more and more musical writers into a field that can encourage many of them, but sustain few.  We need new avenues for the success of musicals that don’t require passing through Times Square and we need to eradicate the notion of Broadway and New York as the sole arbiter of a musical’s success. There are organizations attempting to do this, but the iconic nature of Broadway and its potentially considerable rewards still dominate.

The problem, however, is not Broadway; Broadway is an expensive and risky though potent option. The problem is that we have made Broadway the only hope. But we can’t. The numbers don’t lie: 8.5 new musicals a year, and fewer of those that run, is not enough to be the flagship for and to sustain an entire field of creative endeavor.

*    *    *    *

Notes on process: Counts were based on information from Theatre World and Playbill Vault, both invaluable, but not completely consistent on records and which theatres were indeed Broadway houses, especially in the early years covered. Whenever possible, I erred on the side of inclusion, but someone else might count slightly differently depending upon their methodology and judgment.  I considered new musicals to be newly constructed shows, using both new and existing scores, which could reasonably considered to be musical theatre; song revues like Ain’t Misbehavin’ or Swing I considered new musicals, while something like Tango Argentino or solo concerts, even when by impeccable artists such as Barbara Cook, were ruled out. I did not follow the Tony designations for “special theatrical events” during the decade that award existed, but judged each show on its own merits consistent with what I said previously. I would be the first to say don’t take my 309 count as written-in-stone gospel, but I’m confident that the trends and averages will hold up to scrutiny.

Update July 10: In preparing a follow-up to this piece, I re-reviewed the seasons in question using only the Playbill Vault for consistency’s sake. The post as it now appears reflects adjustments in numbers based upon that re-review, which reflect marginal changes which but do, as expected, maintain the ratios as originally determined.

The lesson of our journey, the moral of our story.

Just as Clybourne Park (premiered at Playwrights Horizons) and Once (workshopped at American Reportory Theatre, premiered by New York Theatre Workshop), with victories at The Tony Awards, prominently reaffirmed how central this country’s not-for-profit theatres are to new theatrical work, we learned that The Goodman Theatre’s production of O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh  (not a new work) will not be brought to New York by producer Scott Rudin (though others may yet step in). Just as I confess to being pleased about the first two works being anointed last night, I also confess that I am not disappointed by the prospect of Iceman remaining a Chicago phenomenon (even though those involved in the production may be).

Now perhaps it’s easy for me to say that about Iceman because I went to Chicago to see it, and therefore its potential inability to transfer doesn’t leave me out in the cold. But I wouldn’t mind it being seen only in Chicago because it further reinforces the notion that superb theatre exists around this country and that a transfer to New York should in no way be the sole arbiter of artistic success.

Despite protestations to the contrary, America does have a national theatre. We simply don’t restrict it to the work of a single company. America’s national theatre exists across the country and a centralized company or facility would, by necessity, be insufficient. Unlike Europe, where the dimensions of the major countries are simply smaller than the U.S., and therefore it is possible to have a National Theatre that is theoretically available to all, any such venue here would be inaccessible to most of the population. Iceman is a production of America’s national theatre, as was the other show I saw on my jaunt, Timon of Athens at Chicago Shakespeare.

The Iceman phenomenon put me in mind of Hartford Stage’s Peer Gynt in the late 80s, for which I was the publicist. This was a rare full-length Gynt, in a new translation that retained Ibsen’s rhyming verse; it ran six hours in two parts and while the audience was wary at first, it became a smash, running eight weeks (the longest run at that theatre before that time and, I believe, ever since). There was talk of a New York transfer, with particular interest from then-prolific producer Roger Stevens, but it was not to be. Yet despite lasting only eight weeks in Hartford, without New York imprimatur, it is a show still spoken of in artistic and audience circles. I continue to meet people who tell me of their travels to see it, and its enormous impact on them. It too was a beacon of America’s national theatre.

What if Jordan Roth had not rescued Clybourne Park when the Broadway production faltered? Would New Yorkers have been deprived, since only a relative few had been able to see it at Playwrights Horizons? Yes. But would America have been deprived? No, because the play had already been seen at numerous regional theatres and had begun international production. Our national theatre had embraced it.

I could cite example after example. But the juxtaposition of the Tonys and the recent news about Iceman (which, again, is hardly the last word on the topic) prompts me to proclaim my own credo about theatre in America and about my theatre going: there is great theatre everywhere in this country and countless opportunities to see it. We may not always gather in vast numbers in stadiums or arenas for our entertainment, but we gather constantly for our theatre.  We gather on Broadway, in storefronts, in resident theatres and in school auditoriums. No one can see all of it; we will always be disappointed in that which we can’t see, but only in the very smallest of communities, only from economic limitations or distress, might we have to go entirely without.

Yes, despite living in one of the world’s theatre capitals, I am driven to seek work in other cities (a topic I hope to explore in greater length one day soon); I am the exception. As we heard as children, at the end of a beloved film, sometimes what we’re looking for is right in our own backyard. We only need to appreciate it for what it is and know that while there may be magic and grandeur elsewhere, there’s plenty to satisfy us in America’s national theatre, which is located wherever you live.

Gender and racial diversity in the arts has been a topic of discussion for as long as I can remember. But the ongoing inequities in the American theatre have been simmering for a long time. Intermittent signs of progress – Garry Hynes and Julie Taymor winning Tonys in 1997, dual firsts for women; the rich cycle of plays by August Wilson that brought a black voice to Broadway and stages across the country; the current Broadway season which featured two new plays by black female writers – are received with attention and even acclaim. Yet overall, there is general consensus that these constituencies are profoundly underrepresented.

While dissatisfaction can be directed at the commercial theatre, it is decentralized; each production is its own corporate entity and producers do not consult with all of the other producers. When it comes to new plays, as it happens, a majority of the work seen on Broadway (if not from England) has emerged from not-for-profit companies. Consequently, the publicly-funded resident theatres have become the locus of attention on these issues and, accelerated by social media, the continuing lack of meaningful process may be coming to a head.

The underrepresentation of women and racially-diverse authors on our stages has come into sharp relief recently as a result of the season announcement by The Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis, one of our oldest and largest companies. In announcing a season of 11 productions thus far, there are no plays by female playwrights (although a Goldoni adaptation is by Constance Congdon), no plays by any writers of color, and only one project with a female director (more accurately, a co-director, with Mark Rylance). In the outcry that ensued, it was noted that almost 10 years ago, while rallying support and funding for The Guthrie’s new home, Dowling had specifically said the new venue would allow for a greater variety of voices; responding to current criticism, he stoked the flames by invoking and decrying “tokenism.”

This prominent example generated press coverage beyond the Minneapolis-St. Paul market, let alone an ongoing rumble of dismay across blogs and Twitter. Perhaps it was Dowling’s defensiveness that made The Guthrie situation so volatile. After all, this past season, Chicago’s acclaimed Steppenwolf Theatre mainstage season featured plays only by men (one an African American), and this from a theatre with a female artistic director; I don’t remember comparable outcry. Was this tempered by the season including several female directors? Or has the Guthrie flap made it easier to raise these issues?

Now each new season announcement is being held up to an accounting, not necessarily in its own board room, staff meeting or local press, but by activists seeking to lay bare this congenital issue. In 2012-13? Arizona Theatre Company: Six plays, all by white males. Seattle Rep: Eight plays, two by women, one of them African American. Alley Theatre in Houston: 11 productions, 2 by women (one of them Agatha Christie) and one by an Asian American man. Kansas City Rep: seven shows, six by men and one developed by an ensemble. Obviously I cannot go theatre by theatre, and I think more detailed data will be gathered, but underrepresentation of works by women and writers of color (of any gender) prevails. What of Steppenwolf? Their next five play season includes plays by one woman and one African-American man.

Is it fair to apply what some might call a quota system in assessing the diversity work on American stages? I would have to say, as so many of our resident theatres are on the verge of celebrating their 50^th anniversaries in the next few years, that a public declaration of these figures is not only fair, but necessary. Theatres have been asked by foundations, by corporations, by government funders to break down their staffs and boards by gender and race for years, and knowing that they were under scrutiny may have caused many companies to diversify internally more, or more quickly, than they might have otherwise. Actors Equity has conducted surveys of seasonal hiring, broken down for gender and race, for a number of years – another watchful eye. Now the focus must shift to the writers of the work on our stages if progress is to be made.

It is ironic that the civil rights movement in America is perhaps most associated with the 1960s, followed closely by the feminist movement — the very same period that coincidentally also saw the bourgeoning of the American resident theatre movement. How unfortunate that some of the language associated, for good or ill, with the first two efforts (tokenism, quotas) are even relevant in discussion of artistic breadth of the latter half a century later.

It’s a word that is thrown about with abandon. “Flop.” It is synonymous with failure and it’s one of those words that sounds like what it means: short, blunt, unimpressive; the sound of a leaden landing or even the puncturing of expectation.

It is used profligately in the theatre, and indeed aficionados revel in tales of famed flops on Broadway: vampire musicals, Shogun, Carrie, Enron, On The Waterfront, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Even as you read this, you’re adding your own to the list. Theatrical dining spot Joe Allen reserves space on its walls for posters of famous flops (also accessible online); I have to imagine it has either driven away those who were involved in these shows, or at least induces a bit of indigestion as they dine.

There’s a certain grandeur and folly to the theatrical flop. There are countless shows that over the decades have opened, often with big stars and advance anticipation, only to sink quickly out of sight. But to be a truly legendary flop, there seems to be a unique and ever changing set of guidelines that lifts this show or that one into the pantheon; certainly hubris seems to play a role. The more godawful, the better they are for gossip and chatter, years after the fact. Even Shakespeare can flop on Broadway, despite the long-established reputation of the work; living down to its cursed reputation, separate Macbeths featuring Kelsey Grammer and Christopher Plummer come to mind.

Yet for some, notably journalists of a certain vintage, “flop” is not merely a pejorative, but an economic distinction, propagated by the much diminished show biz bible Variety. Any commercial production that does not recoup its initial investment during its Broadway run, even if only shy by five or ten per percent of the capitalization, is a flop. Any show which recoups or exceeds is a hit. This rigidly binary criteria permits no flexibility, so some of Stephen Sondheim’s most admired work takes its place alongside travesties in the Variety annals; flop is an economic distinction, not an artistic one.

I have no doubt that this terminology, part of the distinctive patois that made Variety such a pleasure to read (and commemorated by Animaniacs as “Variety Speak”) dates back many decades, to a time when all major new work debuted on Broadway and the not-for-profit theatre system in America was not yet formed (most agree it launched in earnest in the early 1960s). So does – and should – “flop” retain any power today? There’s certainly no eradicating the word (any more than the failure to nominate certain artists and works for awards will cease to be called “snubs”), but perhaps we can all agree that there’s a benefit to discussing the success or failure of theatre with something approaching nuance.

On a purely economic level, the failure of a show to return its entire investment during its Broadway run does not mean that the show is necessarily unprofitable. Yes, shows that lose their entire investment or return only 30% of the capitalization have a very long road, especially musicals produced for $10-15 million. But what of those shows that get to 85% or 90% recoupment? They are likely to tour; to be licensed to regional theatres, amateur companies and schools; to sell cast recordings even if they didn’t quite snatch the brass ring in the commercial incarnation. Maybe they’ll even be sold to the movies. As a result (and I’m not going to break down how investment income is returned to investors and producers in this post), they may enter profit a year or several years after they’ve shuttered on Broadway. But the public books have already been closed, the rubber stamp of flop already impressed upon their public file; no one issues press releases about recoupment on closed shows (though perhaps they might do well to start).

This isn’t as much of a problem for the not-for-profits that produce on Broadway, or for that matter, Off-Broadway. Since their expenses for any show are part of a larger institutional budget, the issue of recoupment isn’t germane; in their immediate wake, an unpopular show may be branded a flop, but over time that distinction seems to fade in a way it does not for commercial work. This doesn’t stop the media from trying to intimate the dreaded branding iron of flop when discussing not for profit work; witness The New York Times’ “autopsy” for MCC Theatre’s Carrie revival, which wishfully applies the paper’s own commercial expectations for the show in order to support its thesis.

“Flop” strikes me as particularly debilitating when it comes to work that is recognized as having artistic value, even if it fails in the marketplace. As far as I’m concerned, Sondheim’s score for Merrily We Roll Along is one of his finest and while the overall piece proves problematic in reworking after revival after resuscitation, I challenge anyone who would claim that it is an utter failure creatively, even if it is not an unqualified success. By Variety’s yardstick, the original Merrily was a flop, and it’s hard to argue given its brief run, but that fails to do the work justice. If one is allowed more than a single word in judgment, it is an ambitious, flawed work by one of the geniuses of musical theatre; it does not deserve dismissal in a column that codifies only hits and flops. Works of art shouldn’t be “guilty” or “not guilty.”

“Flop” is so associated with theatrical ventures that Dictionary.com goes so far as to help define its meaning by specifically linking it to works on the stage; I can’t compete with that. But perhaps in our conversations in the field, commercial or not for profit, we can bring shadings to assessments of productions. For economics, we must take the long view, and remember that a show’s life does not end the moment it closes in New York. For creativity, I recommend that The Scottsboro Boys, Caroline or Change and Passing Strange shouldn’t be lumped together on any extant list with In My Life and Metro. We would serve work better – even when money is lost, sometimes significant sums – if our collective focused on the succès d’estime, rather than the success of an accountant’s pen. It won’t necessarily cushion financial losses, however they’re calculated, but it will put emphasis back on the work, not just on its bottom line.

Having had a hand in The Tony Awards from 2004 through 2011, awards show-watching has been more than a pastime for me. But I’m a latecomer to The Olivier Awards. Two years ago I sat at home, watching the livestream in a window on my laptop. Last year, I finally accepted my annual invitation from the Society of London Theatres to attend in person. Earlier today, I spent four hours in the Jazz at Lincoln Center facility, where the livefeed of the Oliviers was shown on a large screen in Rose Hall, perhaps the city’s most unique venue, with views of Columbus Circle and Central Park behind the stage and, in this case, screen.  Today’s experience felt like an amalgam of my prior two: I was watching on a screen, but a big one which often brought the event to larger than life size; instead of calling out the winners to my wife in the other room, I was surrounded by several hundred theatre professionals and other guests.  This was the “NT Live” version of The Oliviers, so to speak.

I had expected the crowd to resemble “the usual suspects” seen at most opening nights, but it was an eclectic mix, with many folks I didn’t know. I spotted producers (Michael David of Jersey Boys, Sue Frost & Randy Adams of Memphis, Jed Bernstein of Driving Miss Daisy and Hal Luftig of Evita), some not-for-profit leaders (Teresa Eyring of the Theatre Communications Group and Victoria Bailey from the Theatre Development Fund), and a smattering of press (The New York Times, Playbill, Theatermania and AM New York). There was a large contingent from One Man, Two Guvnors there up through intermission (they had to depart for a 3 pm matinee), I don’t know how many from Ghost, Paulo Szot of South Pacific, and James Earl Jones.

It is impossible to know how many attendees had seen some, or any, of the nominated shows (I had seen only four), so an obvious question was whether one would feel any “rooting interest” in the room. Certainly the Guvnors crowd applauded heartily as their nominations were announced, but that was the only apparent partisanship in the room (and completely appropriate). What pleasantly surprised me was that the audience did respond as if at a live show, instead of a cinema; there was applause at the end of every musical number performed, all of which came off well on the big screen. If not the same as being there, there was the unifying effect that experiencing entertainment in a large group can bring; there was definitely a frisson of excitement when Matthew Warchus accepted his award live in New York – made even more exciting by it taking place just seconds after the briefly interrupted video feed came back online.

Andre Ptasyzynski’s opening remarks playfully hinted at rivalry between Broadway and the West End – he cited 14 million London admissions last year vs. Broadway’s 12.5, but also noted $1 billion in New York revenues against London’s $800 million, and also differentiated between voting rules for The Oliviers and The Tonys. But the prevailing spirit was of a carefree spring afternoon in London (even if it was nighttime there). The U.S. audience might have benefited from a few annotations by voice or on screen (Collaborators author John Hodge was never identified by name), and it was my sense that even with an introduction, the crowd neither understood who Ronan Keating and Kimberley Walsh were or why they were dropped into the middle of the event’s second act. Presenters from Downton Abbey needed no such identification.

Too often, in the press surrounding both The Oliviers and The Tonys, there’s an effort to stoke the fires of national competition. I’ve always thought it a false construct. This initial large scale opportunity for the New York theatre to join together for the Oliviers was a good first step and reinforced what I have always found to be true: the underlying unity of all theatre communities, wherever they may be and whoever wins their awards.

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

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.

With “10 Best” lists filed, it won’t be long before we start seeing another seasonal staple of theatre coverage in New York: the stories about how a spate of January closings marks one of the direst winters on Broadway in recent memory. These stories come as regularly as stories about the turkey hotline do in November. They are, simply put, a staple of theatre journalism. So before anyone starts panicking over this year’s inevitable doom and gloom tales, which ironically get the greatest play in media that cover the arts least (I’m looking at you, business news outlets), let me attempt to debunk them, because apparently my memory for these recurring alerts is greater than that of those who propagate them.

Yes, many shows will close in the next four to six weeks. A number of these are not unexpected: they were genuine limited runs planned so they would not be plying their trade in the tourist-depleted Manhattan of mid-winter, or they were shows at institutional theatres which have to clear out for the next production. There are also those shows which opened in October and November and didn’t catch on, whether due to critical response, poor marketing, the oft-cited “crowded marketplace,” a generically-evoked “economy,” or ingrained audience indifference to the product.  These are the shows without the cash to survive the fallow months, even with the range of discounts that will be offered to induce audiences to attend as a savings, rather than necessarily a true value, proposition. (Now that prices appear in lobbies on video screens, some may be entertained by watching the ticket tariffs drop, like an old stock ticker.) There will also be the occasional long runner, which has simply run out of steam.

But none of this is terribly new and given that a good percentage of Broadway’s roughly 40 theatres are occupied by long-runners that aren’t going anywhere, the winter closings rarely vary by more than a few productions from year to year. The numbers game is stacked for doomsaying when every theatre represents 2.5% of the total pool. This is one of those times when numbers can be employed completely accurately, but also misleadingly.

The first snowflake of this particular blizzard fell when Private Lives announced that its limited run would end five weeks early. This is not good news and I feel for those involved (I mention it by name only because their situation is public; I will not prognosticate on the fate of shows that may be on the bubble, despite abundant indicators of their ill health). But that news prompted none other than The New York Times to list some other shows that were also closing soon as part of the burgeoning January trend, and they opted to include one limited run show which had actually extended by a week, all to fit the perennial story template.

Look, this is a field in which the popularly held generalization says that perhaps one in five shows ever recoups its investment, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that for many shows, closings follow openings quickly, as few shows run for a long time at or barely above their breakeven point. For fall shows, this is accelerated by the desire of theatre owners not to have a show operate just above its “stop clause” (part of the theatre agreement which allows owners to close shows that aren’t generating high enough revenue), only to have them falter in March. Why the worry? Because a March closing means there’s not enough time to get a new show in before the Tony deadline, and that may result in an empty theatre until the fall. A January or February closing allows time for another production to open by late April, so there’s a chance that the real estate known as Broadway theatres is filled with revenue-generating tenants who may well stick around longer than their autumnal counterparts. Indeed, it is not unheard of for shows to be offered financial incentives to close up shop around this time, when the stop clause itself can’t be invoked.

If this seasonal winnowing did not occur, if the fall shows were all big successes, we’d end up with spring theatre coverage bemoaning the lack of new material to accompany the crocuses and daffodils. Keep in mind, the only reason 35 to 40 shows compete at the Tonys each year is because so many close from the fall, whether by intent or fortune; the relatively small number of venues, less the number of theatres occupied by those long-running hits, would not allow for that many new shows if there was not a culling of the herd.

Despite “the economy,” there remains heated competition for Broadway’s theatres. The dark years of the 80s when houses sat empty for months at a time has not returned, even though a decrease in production was anticipated (and reported on) each year since the crisis of 2008. Shows close, other shows open, this is the circle of Broadway life. So when the seasonal horror stories start to appear, chalk them up to weak memory and/or journalistic laziness, because it isn’t news, just something to fill space on a slow day, and bad news is so much more enticing than the positive.

As sure as the president will pardon a turkey, just as we’ll all be forced to ponder the meteorological skills of a groundhog, Broadway will – we are told – be under a black cloud very soon. But the sun will indeed come out tomorrow (March and April, to be exact) and the cycle renews itself again. Perhaps if you see these stories, you’ll now take them for what they are, or better still, if you’re called for a comment, you’ll use this as a template for debunking the perennial premise, as the winter’s chill ostensibly threatens the health of the remarkably resilient fabulous invalid.

P.S. This post, with minor emendations, will also be applicable in early May and mid- June, when closings will be blamed on the lack of Tony nominations and/or wins, and again on Labor Day when theatres must be cleared for new fall shows. I will not, however, rewrite this and post variations of it at those times. I hope I’ll have new ideas then.

They come, with startling regularity, on Monday and Tuesday each week. “The Grosses.” The Broadway League aggregates and releases the gross sales and attendance for every Broadway show on Monday afternoons (Tuesdays when there’s been a holiday), and a wide range of outlets dutifully report on the biggest hits, the biggest losers, and prognosticate on a show’s future based on their own analyses, some informed, some less so. For a few thousand people who work in professional theatre, this is valuable information  (I touched upon this earlier this year in another post, “Scoring“). For most people, however, The Grosses have become the new arbiter of quality, since a review runs but once, while The Grosses appear week in and week out.

The Grosses are followed, and sometimes preceded, by a bevy of press releases from individual shows announcing their most recent box office achievements: “Highest grossing week ever in x theatre,” “Highest grossing week for x show,” “Biggest one day box office gross at x theatre,” and so on. Because there is now an industry of websites and bloggers who regurgitate this information largely unremarked-upon, this has become the new currency of achievement on Broadway. “SRO” just doesn’t mean the same thing as “$$$.”

What no one stops to point out is that these ever-higher box office achievements are taking place with the same number of seats in each theatre, meaning only one thing: people are paying more and more for tickets, or records wouldn’t be set. Since the introduction of premium seats 10 years ago, the pace has accelerated; the ability of shows to put tickets at the TKTS booth at varying discount rates has also allowed seats to be filled more strategically, so shows with excess inventory at the last minute need not be bound to a 50% discount, but can use a sliding scale. Box office prices are not even fixed any longer; displayed on video screens in lobbies, I am told they can be adjusted a couple of times each week based on demand.

So the fact is, yes, Broadway is setting records, but it’s doing so by generating more money per seat, or in layman’s terms, raising prices. If you thought it odd when Broadway shows said they were playing to 101.6% of capacity (meaning they’re selling standing room), now we can marvel at how shows can gross hundreds of thousands of dollars more than their declared weekly potential.

Before you start shouting “Occupy Broadway” and running with your hastily but tastefully made signage to camp out in Shubert Alley, let’s take a breath.

The majority of productions on Broadway are commercial enterprises. Each show is its own corporation and it has a responsibility, like any business, to maximize its revenue. Famously, only one in five shows supposedly turns a profit; many of the limited runs on Broadway are fortunate to simply return their capitalization.  Finding investors is difficult, costs are escalating from a variety of sources (labor, advertising rates, etc.) and the entire business model is called into question by many. Can we blame producers for seeking to keep Broadway alive, and shouldn’t we accept that the hits need to be ever more remunerative in order to keep more investors interested in participating in Broadway shows and mitigating their losses elsewhere? I think these are all valid considerations and should not be ignored in favor of simple populist rhetoric.

But at what point do we reach, or have we passed, the tipping point where, to echo some of the Occupy Wall Street rhetoric, the top 1% of the country’s theatregoers can afford and secure 99% of the tickets, and every effort to popularize theatre and insure future audiences is negated by economic reality? Just as people have begun to ask about banks and brokerages, is it possibly unethical to make “too much money” with the arts, whether commercial or non-profit?

Yes, I know that many people don’t pay the “rack rate” for Broadway. There’s the aforementioned TKTS booth, the wide range of discounting practiced by all but the most successful shows, the $20 lotteries for front row seats held at 6 pm nightly in front of many theatres. Frankly, Broadway has developed a balkanized pricing system, with the hit shows charging ever higher amounts while shows with less broad-based appeal forced into a cycle of discounting from which they can rarely escape. But the rack rate keeps increasing, so even the discount seats increase in price.

I shouldn’t pick on Broadway alone, as recent news reports have indicated that premium pricing has infiltrated Off-Broadway, both commercial and non-profit. One New York non-profit that famously gives away tickets to several productions for free each year will also let you acquire reserved seats for a pre-set donation amount, perhaps the most pronounced example of price disparity that allows the “haves” to simply pay in advance for what others must seek out for free at the expense of considerable waiting time. Also, while Off-Broadway’s rack rate may be half of that on Broadway, the Broadway discounts equalize the prices – forcing Off-Broadway to then discount its own seats to a point where the production can’t meet its weekly costs, giving rise, in part, to the reduction in commercial activity Off-Broadway in recent years.

“Load management,” pioneered by the airlines, is the original term for what the arts now politely call “dynamic pricing” and it’s not just a New York phenomenon, as both presenting houses around the country and resident theatres attempt to maximize revenue, although perhaps in a less pronounced manner than what we’ve seen thus far in New York. In the case of airlines, they actually can control seating capacity by running greater or fewer flights on various routes, sometimes limiting seating to maximize the price per seat. Theatre doesn’t have this option, but even as one who years ago pondered how to adopt load management at a not-for-profit, I now look to the public’s low opinion of airlines and air travel and worry that the arts could drive themselves into a similarly unpopular consensus. To top things off, this comes at a time when a recent report has informed us that charitable giving to the arts disproportionately benefits the upper echelons of arts audiences.

There is a theatrical ecosystem and it includes professional theatres from small communities to Broadway; I am sure the same is true for symphonies, museums and all of the arts as well. There is absolutely a case of trickle-down economics, but not in any positive way: it is the negative of the upward price and expense cycle that rolls downhill to everyone’s detriment, but most especially to undermine everyone’s supposed shared goal of attracting new audiences and introducing future generations to the arts, if not out of altruism, then out of self-preservation.

Do we need a movement? Perhaps not yet. But do we need pronounced change we can believe in when it comes to access and pricing for the arts? Absolutely. Otherwise, things will just get grosser.

This post originally appeared on the 2amtheatre website.