The rise of internet culture has caused many shifts in how we consume information, with one of the more amusing side benefits being the rise of the fictional Twitter user. Disregarding spambots, the anonymity that comes so easily online has birthed such figures as @BronxZoosCobra and @ElBloombito, to name but two. In the theatre realm, the sunny cheerleading of @BroadwayGirlNYC has found adherents, but the sharper tongues (or typing) of @WestEndProducer and @Actor_Friend have launched them into real world publishing, within weeks of each other.

For those who haven’t been following them, a quick précis. West End Producer is, ostensibly, an individual on the production side of theatre in England, whose dishy asides about every aspect of the business always conclude with the simultaneously charming and condescending #dear. I have struck up a Twitter acquaintance with this person, we’ve shared a few jokes and they sent me a signed copy of their book. I’ve noticed their unwavering dedication to chronicling TV talent competitions as they air on weekend evenings (which can be bewildering, since the shows don’t play in the US) and just learned of a mutual passion for Sherlock, but this TV fixation doesn’t suggest someone at the country homes of those with bold faced names on the weekend. I’m newer to Actor Friend, whose full nom de tweet is Annoying Actor Friend, but the online persona is that of a snarky actor, seemingly more of a dedicated gypsy than an above-the-title star. While I won’t guess at gender (though WEP’s appearances in a latex mask disguise would indicate male, and in a  book blurb, one writer suggests AF is female), I’d hazard that AF is in their 20s while WEP is likely 30ish (or more).

In their books Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Acting But Were Afraid To Ask, Dear (Nick Hern Books, £10.99) and #SoBlessed: The Annoying Actor Friend’s Guide To Werking in Show Business (CreateSpace, $13.99), WEP and AF dispense pearls of wisdom in their trademark styles, freed from the chains of 140 characters at a time.  Early in each book, one gets the full force of their characters:

“Casting Directors are usually very nice people who like drinking far too much alcohol, and mostly during the day. The ones that don’t drink usually have other habits, which can’t be discussed here – but often end in them being discovered on a bench outside Waterloo Station at 5 a.m.”  – West End Producer

“Even after you’ve questionably noted your music, nervously mumbled some directions, and shakily clapped out a tempo, there will be an accompanist who has no effing clue how to play your Jason Robert Brown song. Seriously though – whenever I don’t get a callback, I usually find a way to blame the accompanist. It doesn’t matter if they played my audition flawlessly. It’s still their fault.”  – Annoying Actor Friend

“A serious actor has to approach acting in a serious way. This can be achieved by using various methods. One of the easiest ways is by not smiling – particularly if you don’t have good teeth. A serious actor should always save his smile for special occasions. However, this does not mean you can’t smirk. Smirking and smiling are two very different things indeed.”  – West End Producer

“As a performer, Annoying Actor Internet Law requires you to read anonymous online opinions about you, take them personally, and then complain about how all those people on theatre message boards are stupid, even though their comments are secretly murdering you from the inside out.”  – Annoying Actor Friend

Now you might imagine that an entire book of this arch tone would grow tiresome, let alone two, and I’d readily agree with you. That’s where both of these books turn out to be surprises. #SoBlessed, while the thinner of the pair, both literally and figuratively, pretty much drops all pretense of a character in one of its longer chapters, “On The Road,” which deals with touring. Offering a pointed critique of touring conditions and contracts, AF gets into some detail about the challenges of an actor’s life on tour. AF’s advocacy regarding compensation has taken on even greater urgency among some members of Actors Equity, with the full Twitter support and perhaps instigation of AF, has raised a stir about the pay structure of touring agreements over the holidays.

Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Acting is more comprehensive than its title suggests, ranging over many fields in the theatre, including producing itself. While the occasional Britishism may befuddle the less worldly reader, the advice dispensed among the punchlines is in fact utterly practical, simply delivered in a tone unlikely to be heard in classrooms at Yale or the Tisch School. “When you audition,” observes WEP, “there’s always a moment when you’re perfect for the role. It’s the moment before you come through the door.” WEP also wraps up the book by enumerating concerns that face the theatre, going beyond flippant remarks about Andrew Lloyd Webber to touch upon rising ticket prices, competition from the electronic media and the need for everyone in theatre “to be braver.”

They may have found their fame in the briefest of missives and gained followings with their dark and knowing wit, but in the end West End Producer and Annoying Actor Friend are both passionately dedicated to the theatre, doling out genuine wisdom and information with nearly every wisecrack. If one is on a budget and has to choose between the books, I give the edge to WEP, even though those in the US have to wait for its release here in the spring via TCG (it seemed to be a favored holiday gift in the UK, judging by my Twitter feed). But both make for irreverent supplements to more staid but perhaps equally inspiring books in theatre. And they are not annoying. Not annoying at all, dear.

For all the years I lived in Connecticut, I used to feel I was missing out, as I saw offers for advance screenings of films dropping into my inbox and plastered on various websites. But, alas, the screenings were focused on “major cities” and it hardly made sense for me to take a two hour drive to capitalize on an offer to see a film I could catch a few weeks later for all of $10. But now that I’m in New York, I’ve discovered that while these screenings are plenty convenient, the cost could be much greater – to the tune of $5 million for an inappropriate tweet.

That’s not a typo. An e-mail offer for a screening of Ron Howard’s Rush this evening, from the site previewfreemovies.com, has an extensive list of caveats about who can attend and what they’re able to say – or more accurately, everything they can’t say – if they accept such a gracious offer. I’d be out, according to their requirements, right off the bat, because they wish to prohibit anyone from the entertainment industry, market research or media from participating, since the screening is being done for market research purposes. I would say this is a pretty sloppy way to assemble a representative moviegoing sample in New York, but presumably they want “average viewers,” whoever they may be, not us media elite (what, me elite? ha!).

Now it’s worth noting that Rush screens tonight and opens Friday, so this isn’t a test screening that might result in edits and reshoots; all they can gather at this point is how the audience feels about the film. The methodology seems different than that used by Cinemascore, which one reads about, so who the results of this effort are seen by is an unanswered question. But the movie isn’t about to change in the subsequent 72 hours (now that many films debut on Thursday evenings around 9 pm).

What gets my goat about this “invitation” is the lengthy list of warnings and potential liabilities you undertake by participating. While I understand the concern about surreptitious filming (we know that bootlegs of shoddily shot screenings copntribute to movie piracy, and should be averted), the idea that a tweet or blog about a film could ruin someone’s finances is something else altogether. In this case, it’s pretty preposterous, as the film has already been screened at the Toronto Film Festival (and I’ve seen tweets about it), but this language is in place for many such advance viewing opportunities.

Frankly, I have a sneaking suspicion that if an attendee posted a few words or even a few paragraphs online that were laudatory about the film, all concerned would turn a blind eye to the praise. But if anyone of influence happened to express negative opinions, the potential for action rises. While I doubt that any company would want the negative p.r. of swooping down on some innocent Facebooker who didn’t mind the fine print, I bet they’d put the fear of god into them as an example, so they can run their marketing they way they like, with “average moviegoers” as tools to be used, rather than customers and potential supporters.

Please don’t moan to me, movie marketers, about how social media has ruined the preview process and upended your efforts; every industry has had to adjust to the revolution. But if you want to know what people think, it should be an all or nothing proposition – you get your info, but so do friends and family and followers of those you drag in with your offer of marginal value, unless you offer them something more valuable than the right to see a movie a few days early, while being subject to draconian penalties.  The public shouldn’t be bought so cheaply while assuming a ridiculous risk. So I just might see Rush when it opens – and say anything I darn well please about it,wherever and whenever I want.

For the record, here’s the language that appeared in the e-mail invitation itself, verbatim:

By attending this private event you agree to all of the following:

• A Photo ID or Passport is required for admittance.
• The audience at this screening may be recorded for research purposes. By attending, you give your unqualified consent to the filmmaker and its agents and licensees to use the recording of your person and appearance and your reactions for its review in any manner in connection with the purpose of this recruited screening.
• No one over or under the above-listed age group or infants will be permitted into the theater, and if you accept this invitation, you and your guest represent that our ages are BOTH within this listed age group.
• No one involved in the entertainment advertisement, market research or media industries, or anyone who writes, blogs or otherwise reports on media in any form or forum whatsoever will be admitted.
• By accepting this invitation and attending this screening, you agree not to disclose any of the contents of the screening prior to the release of the movie to the public. If you are discovered to have written about, posted or disclosed in any manner any of the contents of the screening – including but not limited to Facebook, Twitter, blogs or any other social media outlets, we will pursue all of our legal rights and remedies against you.
• The theatre is overbooked to ensure capacity and therefore you are not guaranteed a seat by showing up at this private event.
• There is no charge to attend the screening, but as a condition to admittance, audience members are required to complete a short questionnaire following the movie.
• No audio or video recording devices will be allowed into the theater, including but not limited to camera phones and PDAs. If you attempt to use a recording device you will be removed from the theater immediately, forfeit the device and you may be subject to criminal and civil liability.
• Audience members consent to a search of all bags, jackets and pockets for cameras or other recording devices. Leave any such items at home or in your car.
• All non-camera cell phones and pagers must be off or on silent mode during the screening.
• Anyone creating a disturbance or interfering with the screening enjoyment of others in the audience will be removed from the theater.

By accepting this invitation and/or attending the screening event, you acknowledge and agree that neither you nor your guest(s) are guaranteed admission to the theater, or any specific seating if you are so admitted, and that none of you are entitled to any form of compensation if you do not get admitted into the screening or if you are offered seats that you choose to decline.

And here, also verbatim, is the language that appears in a scrolling box on the actual RSVP form. This is where it gets expensive:

CONFIDENTIALITY AND NONDISCLOSURE AGREEMENT

THIS CONFIDENTIALITY AND NONDISCLOSURE AGREEMENT (“Agreement”) is made and entered into by and between Screen Engine, LLC, a California limited liability company, dba previewfreemovies.com, (“Company”) and/or its affiliated or related companies and clients, and you, the individual confirming your attendance at this event (“Individual”). For good and adequate consideration, the receipt, adequacy and sufficiency of which are hereby acknowledged, Individual hereby agrees as follows:

Individual is or will be a guest of Company at a market research event for the purpose of viewing “works-in-progress” creative content that may be associated with movies and other media (the “Creative Content”) In the course of Individual’s viewing of the Creative Content, Individual may acquire or may be exposed to information (including, without limitation, information that is written, oral, photographed or recorded on film, tape, or otherwise), as well as any as-yet unreleased creative content. Individual agrees that he/she shall not, during the term of this Agreement, or thereafter, in perpetuity, disclose or cause to be disclosed (or confirm or deny the veracity of) to any third party or use or authorize any third party to use:

(1) Any information relating to the Creative Content, the business or interests of Company, or Company’s Affiliates, that the Company and/or its Affiliates has not revealed to the general public;

(2) Any information developed by or disclosed to Individual by Company, Company’s Affiliates, or by any third party, which is confidential to Company, its Affiliates, Clients and/or which is not known to the general public;

(3) Any information that Company, or its Affiliates instruct Individual not to disclose or confirm. The information described in (1)-(3) is hereinafter referred to collectively as the “Confidential Information”

Individual acknowledges that maintaining complete privacy and avoiding disclosure of Confidential Information are critically important to Company and its Affiliates, that Individual would not be given access to Confidential Information if Individual were not willing to agree to these terms, and protect and preserve that privacy and confidentiality, and that Individual’s full and strict compliance with this Agreement is a fundamental inducement upon which Company is specifically relying in allowing Individual to view, hear or learn of the Creative Content. Confidential Information is and shall remain the sole and exclusive property of Company and its Affiliates, and, during and after the term of this Agreement, Confidential Information, even when revealed to Individual, shall be deemed to remain at all times in the sole possession and control of Company and its Affiliates.

a.) Without limiting any other provision hereof, Individual shall not give any interviews regarding or otherwise participate by any means and in any form whatsoever, including but not limited to blogs, Twitter, Facebook, You- Tube, MySpace, or any other social networking or other websites whether now existing or hereafter created, in the disclosure of any Confidential Information or any other information relating to this Agreement, the Creative Content or the business of Company or its Affiliates. If Individual is contacted by a journalist, a representative of the media or other third party who requests that Individual disclose or confirm or deny the veracity of any of the Information covered by this Agreement, Individual shall reject said request and/or issue a “no comment”, and Individual shall immediately advise Company thereof.

b.) Company shall have the right to confiscate, (including seize and destroy the contents of) cell phones, cameras, PDAs and any and all other infringing devices, and take all necessary measures to protect its rights.

c.) Individual agrees that any breach of this Agreement will cause Company and its Affiliates and Clients incalculable damages. Such damages include all costs of any nature associated with the Creative Content, as well as the incalculable management time necessary in creating and distributing the same. Accordingly, Individual agrees that in the event of breach of this paragraph, Individual shall pay Company, upon demand, as liquidated damages, the sum of Five Million Dollar ($5,000 000.00) plus any actual out-of-pocket expense, as well as any attorney fees expended in enforcing this paragraph.

The provisions of this Agreement shall be binding upon and shall inure to the benefit of Company, its successors and assigns and to the benefit of Individual and his or her successors and assigns.

I happen to follow a group of smart, funny and insightful television journalists on Twitter – among them Alyssa Rosenberg, Todd VanDerWerff, Linda Holmes, Alan Sepinwall, Kate Aurthur, Roger Catlin and June Thomas. As a result, for the last 10 days or so, my feed has been overrun with their real-time thoughts and intramural conversations about the new and returning crop of television programs, because they’ve all been together at the Television Critics Association‘s summer residency in California, where they’ve had a daily barrage of presentations by dozens of TV networks.

It’s been pretty entertaining and informative watching these folks melt when Tom Hiddleston starts quoting Shakespeare (he plays Prince Hal/Henry V in the upcoming The Hollow Crown) and get riled up when sitcoms try to defend reactionary humor about race by draping themselves in the flag of All In The Family. Even as they acknowledge their own complicity in a grand promotional scheme, they’re proving their value as cultural commentators, generating instant awareness for the upcoming TV season and no doubt stockpiling material for coverage and commentary to come.

So I ask: where’s the corollary event for American theatre?

To be sure, there are few media outlets these days that are likely to underwrite theatre journalists spending a week or more hearing comparable presentations; travel budgets are limited if they exist at all. Unlike TV, the majority of theatre is ultimately a local or regional, rather than national, event.  But it strikes me that while there are any number of conferences and convenings within the field itself (i.e. the TCG conference and Broadway League spring road conference), some of which invite the press, they are designed for “internal” field conversations, rather than focused for those who write about the field. The open-to-the-public TEDx Broadway conference is, consistent with the TED template, presentational; the annual “day after the Tony nominations” press event is a mob scene of media outlets scurrying for timely soundbites from shellshocked nominees, shuttling from booth to booth, providing brief access tied to a singular event.

The American Theatre Critics Association meets twice annually, and they regularly invite artistic guests. But by and large, content is geared towards what’s taking place in the locations they visit; their winter/spring gathering is in New York every other year, with alternate spring events and the summer locale varying. I wonder how fully the broad spectrum of American theatre is available to them each year, as a result of purely logistical and budgetary considerations.

Now maybe part of the lure of the TCA events is that it allows TV journalists to be in the same room with people they normally see only on screens, or perhaps in the occasional phone interview. Certainly there’s a thread of fandom running through their tweets when certain figures appear; in addition to the Hiddleston admiration, Sesame Street characters and one of the Bunheads also provoked enthusiasm from the TV tweeters. Theatre journalists, on the other hand, are used to being in the same room as many of the artists they cover, not least because the performances are live, not on some digital medium.

But I’ve also watched as the TV journos take the opportunity to ask questions of the various panels arrayed before them, and even comment upon each others questions, as well as the sometimes informative, sometimes evasive responses from the panelists. While it seems that the networks do their very best to control the flow of events, some of the conversations that ensue can be unexpected and even messy. Still, even after day upon day of seeming incarceration in hotel meeting rooms, the writers can get fired up about the field they’re covering, both pro and con.  That has enormous value.

So how do we foster this kind of engagement with the journalists who cover our field? They, like we, face enormous challenges, and we should be bonded together in our support for the arts. Yes, Twitter has created a platform where certain critics and select artistic leaders pursue truncated dialogues and debates, subject to the vagaries of happening to be online at the same time, but sustained interactions between the press and our field are usually limited to proscribed interviews on certain subjects, rarely lasting more than an hour. That’s pretty perfunctory for people who rely on one another for aspects of their livelihood, and we should do better.

I’m not suggesting a marathon event like the TCA’s, for practical reasons. But what if every summer (when fewer companies are in production), artists, commercial producers and not-for-profit heads, of ventures large and small, from around the country, had a platform for candid but on the record conversations with the theatre press? What if the ratio were more or less equal? What if journalists could speak with creators not just from their own community, but hear what’s going on in multiple locations from the people making the work, not just their peers who actually get to see it? Yes, I imagine the prospect might frighten many on the theatre side, since the instinct is to always try to control the story, but don’t you think that’s the case as well for the TV networks? Admittedly, showing the work itself would prove problematic (not an issue for TV or film), but properly constructed, an event of two or three days duration could do more than just hold participants’ interest, but inspire it as well.

This is not rocket science and the TCA event is only one model. Social and streaming media could actually open up such an event even more broadly, and if there’s one thing theatres and theatre journalists could use, it’s a broader platform, rather than an ever-narrowing one. Could this take place under the aegis of an existing entity or several banded together? Of course it could, so long as everyone seeks a common goal, not the singular aim of their own organization. Could this prove contentious at times, as thoughts are openly shared? Absolutely, but that’s what makes news, and disagreement isn’t always detrimental.

None of what I say here should be taken as criticism of any of the events that already exist in theatre or in the broader arts community. They are constructed with certain goals for distinct constituencies and each achieves their ends ably I’m sure. But perhaps we need one more event, one crafted specifically for the mutual needs and interests of those who make and produce work and those who help carry our news and work to a broader audience, instead of, on occasion, inviting them in to watch us talk among ourselves or to serve our immediate promotional needs – or being in a select group from our field invited in to talk with them. We are often in the same rooms at the same time at performances. What about being in a room where we actually converse?

While the arts are often notoriously slow adopters of new technology, the rapid rise of social media would seem to dictate that commercial theatre jump on the bandwagon and hold on tight.

But social media may be best suited for use by subsidised companies, rather than the shows that populate the West End and Broadway.

Certainly, every show has the basics in place, a Facebook page, a Twitter feed and so on, in addition to the now de rigeur website. But producers and their marketing teams seem to view most social media as an extension of advertising or PR, feeding out casting announcements, special ticket offers and ‘exclusive’ photos and video all directed at driving sales.

The problem is that for most productions, especially early in their runs, there aren’t necessarily enough people who have followed or liked the show to read what’s on offer, and the content is often repurposed for other uses, diluting the impact that ‘exclusivity’ might still carry.

Shows appear drawn to the media portion of this new manner of communications, when it is the social aspect that is most innovative and compelling. Social platforms offer rapid and direct communications with individuals, but the fact is that people engage most with those who actually engage with, or entertain, them. It may take place on an overwhelming scale when it comes to major celebrities, but in the theatre, it’s quite easy for fans to strike up conversations with stars, writers, designers, directors and even critics – something virtually unimaginable a decade ago. So, if shows don’t actually engage with their audiences beyond tarted-up press announcements, they’re dropping the ball.

Of course, the challenge is how creative on an ongoing basis any one show can be, since they’re a relatively fixed offering (people, on the other hand, can have remarkably varied day-to-day lives) and how much  they’re willing to invest to be socially rather than sales-oriented, focusing on the long game rather than immediate gain. Except for a very small portion of the audience,  attendance at a commercial show is a one-off event, not an ongoing commitment, seemingly at odds with the basis of social media. The building of relationships afforded by social media can create a stronger bond for an ongoing company producing an array of works over months or years.

In 2009, when social media was still working its way into public consciousness, the Broadway production of Next to Normal garnered great attention and achieved a remarkable million followers through two initiatives. It offered one night “live-tweeting” the plot of the entire show for anyone who cared to follow. Shorn of songs and even most dialogue, they were serialising an outline in real time, but it was a distinctive effort that marked the show as creative and tantalised people with the framework of a show they might then choose to see in real life.

Next to Normal also ran a campaign in which Twitter followers were encouraged to make suggestions for a new song for the show, creating a connection directly with the authors, who did indeed write a song based on suggestions. While it wasn’t added to the finished work, fans could hear it online. It’s a shame that, since the account still has 946,000 following (though it is closed), it hasn’t tweeted since April of last year, leaving a huge untapped base of potential ticket buyers for other productions.

Despite the efforts and success of Next to Normal, social media still seems an afterthought for most Broadway shows. In a survey of Broadway theatres in early May, prompts to interact with the show through social media activity (primarily Facebook, Twitter and Instagram) were on display at 15 theatres – yet a nearly equal number (14) had no such reminders in their front of theatre or box office lobby displays (a number of theatres had no tenants at the time). A few showed real initiative in advocating social media use (a photo backdrop outside the Lunt-Fontanne for Motown; a ‘photo stop’ in the upper lobby of the Gershwin for Wicked).

Unfortunately, others simply displayed social platform logos without the specific names used by the shows in those arenas, so one would have to seek them out; it’s akin to posting ‘we have a website’ instead of giving a URL.

If productions don’t feel that social media gives them sufficient bang for their buck, perhaps they shouldn’t establish a presence only to give it short shrift. On the other hand, as some shows are demonstrating, with a little thought, a show can build its profile at a proportionately low cost, amplifying the power of the ever essential word of mouth, so long as they’re willing to commit to subtly promoting their presence by offering intriguing content and damping down the urge to shout “BUY NOW”.

Yes, I brought my camera to a Broadway show with the intention of using it. And I did.

Having read that the audience was invited on stage before the start of The Testament of Mary to gaze upon an assortment of props, as well as the leading lady Fiona Shaw, I brought my camera to document the event. I figured it would make for perfect art to accompany a blog post about the wisdom of a show exploiting audience curiosity in order to seed a social media marketing campaign.

Instead, I was converted.

No, not like that.

In the 36 hours since I saw the next-to-last Broadway performance, I have come to realize that the audience ambling and photobombing of Shaw was in fact an integral part of the show, and it reveals new layers to me even as I write.

Colm Toíbín’s revisionist view of the mother of Jesus, adapted by Shaw and director Deborah Warner, gave us a most ordinary Mary, who spent much of the show in a drab tunic and pants. She was remarkably modern in her speech, talked with an Irish accent, and dangled a cigarette from her lips. The set was strewn with anachronistic props: plastic chairs, a metal pail, a bird cage – a yard sale filled mostly with items from the Bethlehem Hope Depot.

Mary’s tale might be that of any Jewish mother whose son has fallen in with the wrong crowd, less disciples or worshippers than hooligans; her skepticism about her son’s miracles is hardly veiled. She spoke of the raising of Lazarus as if he had been buried alive, of the transformation of water into wine as a show-off’s trick, and wrenchingly of the crucifixion. She described those who urged her to recount her son’s life and death in specific ways, contrary to some of her own recollections; she talked about potential threats to her own safety resulting from her familial connection. She stripped bare and submerged herself completely in a pool of water for a second or two longer than might seem safe; an auto-baptism perhaps?

But that’s the play. Or so we’re meant to think.

In hindsight, the play – or at least the production – began the moment Fiona Shaw took her place, Madonna-like, behind plexiglass walls, at roughly 7:40 pm before the announced 8 pm curtain. While it’s perhaps unfortunate that this device was used so soon after the Tilda Swinton-in-a-box stunt at the Museum of Modern Art, we were clearly watching a tableau vivant of the Virgin Mary as seen in countless religious icons, not an Oscar winner feigning sleep.

The moment the play proper, or perhaps I should say “the action,” began, the audience was shooed to their seats, cautioned against further photos, the glass case lifted, and Shaw quickly shed the fine vestments for the costume described earlier.

As I had stood among the crowd on stage, and it was indeed a crowd, I thought, ‘Why isn’t this better managed? Everyone is going in a different direction. People could trip, people could slip off the stage itself, they could taunt the live vulture, they could foul up the preset props.’ Even after I wormed my way up to the plexiglass and was ready to retake my seat, I couldn’t, such was the flow of people coming and going from two small stairways on a suddenly tiny stage.

I have come to realize that we were the modern day rabble, gawking at the remnants of Jesus’ death. There was no corpse, but the barbed wire we tiptoed around would later be a crown of thorns, Shaw as the Madonna was indeed a gazed-upon icon, making her transformation to flesh and blood all the more striking minutes later. We weren’t looking upon any of this with reverence, but with the avid curiosity of onlookers at a tragedy. Our actions were the curtain raiser, we were our own cast in a sequence of immersive theatre within the confines of a proscenium theatre.  The vulture was gone after this prologue, since we had picked the bones of the production dry under our eager gaze; Mary was vividly alive, and therefore of no interest to a animal that feeds on carrion.

Yes, I tweeted photos of the motionless Shaw; I imagine others did the same. I tried to get a good shot of the vulture, but it wasn’t much for posing and its black feathers in low light made it even more difficult a subject. I wasn’t about to use a flash, lest it trouble the seemingly imperturbable bird; others had no such compunction.

I have seen many coups de théâtre in my years of theatergoing, but this was the first time I had been a part of one. Even my tweeting served the piece; I was spreading the classic image of Mary to others, tipping them to the ability to photograph her themselves, in order to have their own actions questioned and subverted for the subsequent 90 minutes. As I did it, I felt there was something cheap in my actions; only in hindsight do I realize that Shaw and Warner had expertly suckered me into their game, as the modern day equivalent of a gawking bystander in ancient times.

Unfortunately, only another 1,000 people may have had the opportunity to respond to my small, complicit role as I exploited images of the show on social media, in the public relations of religious and theatrical iconography, since The Testament of Mary closed after its next performance. Perhaps it ran too short a time to become the stuff of legend, but it was, for me, a memorable experience, one martyred by what Broadway seems to demand.  I hope it goes to countless better places.

all photos by Howard Sherman

I was invited by the editors of the National Endowment for the Arts blog to contribute to their “blog salon” on the topic of tweeting during live performances, so this short piece was one of several that were posted by them in a week’s time. To see it in its original context, click here.

I’m not keen on “live-tweeting” at live performances. I’m not against tweeting at performances.

Equivocal enough for you?

The perpetual debate over live-tweeting, in play for at least a year, dredges up the same arguments. “When you live-tweet, you are not present.” “Can’t people put their phones down for even two hours?” “Why should I be disturbed by tapping or glowing screens?” I agree with all of these.

I am in middle-age, and remember the introduction of personal computers, portable computers, cell phones, digital music players, smart phones, and tablets, to name but a few. My patterns of consuming live entertainment were set in the era before most personal electronic communication was available, and in that, not so different from my parents, or audiences in preceding centuries.

Yet I am an avid tweeter, a moderate Facebooker, and, when there are live TV events, I often adopt the two-screen approach, shifting focus between TV and computer, looking up facts and tweeting commentary as I watch. I have live-tweeted talks and speeches in person, most recently TEDx Broadway this past week, yet I have no desire to do this during a play or concert. However, those raised in more recent years, with this technology commonplace, may find it perfectly natural. Who am I to say?

If arts groups can accommodate live tweeters in a manner where their actions in no way impinge upon other attendees or the performers, why not let these experiments play out? If we are Luddites, we risk losing future audiences, which we can ill afford, and hypocrites for saying we want to reach them, but only on our own rigid terms.

Over the years, I can recall disdainful and exclusionary complaints about the introduction of supertitles at operas, sign-language interpreted and open captioned performances, and other such “intrusions.” Thirty years ago, people were startled when I wore jeans to the theater; now shorts are not uncommon in warmer months. Times change.

I will always hold the performance paramount and I hope I will also welcome innovation. Technology will soon make the crude method of live-tweeting obsolete, with elegant, unobtrusive interactivity flawlessly executed, in ways we can’t yet imagine. So for now, as long it doesn’t affect others, I choose to support exploration.

I would rather have people at live performances dividing their attention if they must, instead of not being there at all.

“She nailed it! She nailed it! What a spectacular pirouette, Biff, wouldn’t you agree?”

While the idea of all-arts talk radio, modeled on sports talk radio, may strike one upon first thought as rather absurd, I think my friend Pia Catton is really on to something in her enthusiastic pitches for just such a thing both this week and last week in her “Culture City” column at The Wall Street Journal.

Frankly, whether it’s sports, politics or, for that matter, car repair, we’ve been shown time and time again that there are people who are drawn to listen to, and participate in, audio conversations for hours on end. NPR’s Car Talk managed to attract listeners who didn’t even own cars, because the program was simply so entertaining. Now, while the Magliozzi brothers weren’t on a 24-hour car talk network (they had to make room for things like Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me and All Things Considered), their 30 year run is a testament to the idea that good talk makes for compelling listening, no matter what the subject.

So even as yet another arts television network heads towards rocky shoals (Ovation just lost the significant access to the pool of Time Warner Cable subscribers), maybe it’s time to realize that arts TV may be too expensive to sustain. But talking is considerably cheaper to produce, even when done truly well, and if Twitter, Facebook, chat rooms and the like are any evidence, there’s an audience for talking about the arts.

Certainly one fear is that it would quickly devolve into debates about which recording of La Boheme is best, or whose Mama Rose was definitive. I wouldn’t have much patience with such circular argument. But shrewd hosts could prevent repetitive (and insoluble) contretemps in favor of variety, and daily topics and special guests could focus the discourse. This is a little trick known as producing, and while it seems invisible when it comes to talk radio, it’s essential. They’re rarely just turning on a mike and letting some personality do whatever they want, which explains why Keith Olbermann keeps getting fired – he doesn’t want to be produced, but let free to roam wherever he sees fit and get paid for it.

One hurdle to be conquered by arts talk radio is the hyperlocal nature of the performing arts. While the entire country can share movies, recorded music and books, even the most successful Broadway show might be seen by say 500,000 people in a year, meaning that if an arts show is national, you may have trouble finding enough people who have seen any given piece to fuel a great conversation. Though there may be original sports talk radio in many markets, I suspect it corresponds with those markets which have major league teams, even though thanks to broadcast, cable, satellite and the web, sports are accessible across the country as never before.

Because of Pia’s ambition, I’m not prepared to theorize about arts talk radio that only serves New York, Chicago and London even at the start; its greatest service to the arts would be if it was national or international, connecting often disparate arts communities into a single conversation. Where I would moderate her vision is length. A daily show or weekend programming block would be a good place to start and test things out, without round-the-clock pressure and expense.

Another staple of most talk radio is opinion, which can fall somewhere between loud argument over the holiday dinner table and outright character assassination. That worries me. I would have trouble listening to people, whether host or caller, tearing down any artist, even when I agree that their work is negligible. That, of course, is because I come from inside the field. Perhaps, just as with many people’s reactions to the Bros on Broadway on Theatremania, it’s the reflex of the dedicated arts aficionado, protecting the artists and the art, and if arts talk radio is to attract an audience beyond the already-converted, maybe some feelings will have to get hurt, beyond bad reviews.

A number of years ago, I read a fascinating speech given at an arts journalism conference in which the speaker/writer said that if the performing arts want more coverage, more attention and perhaps more acceptance, they need to – to use the sports analogy – let the arts media into the locker room. We are, as a rule, profoundly careful about access to artists and process, so we should be surprised if our coverage is limited to one feature story and one review per outlet. While post-game interviews and sports press conferences are remarkable for their ability to say very little, they create the veneer of connection; if they didn’t, they’d have been axed by editors and producers long ago.  Even in film, there are both prepackaged behind the scenes featurettes and set-visits for select outlets, whether high-brow (Vanity Fair) or low (Access Hollywood and the like). Maybe arts talk radio can open up those avenues.

Yes, social media has been used creatively by some celebrities to build the bond with their fans, but most theatre folk don’t manage to reach a critical mass or approach social media all that creatively (on Twitter, Lin-Manuel Miranda offers a great template for artist-fan interaction). They need a platform that goes beyond their own efforts.

Would I have called into arts talk radio when I was 20? Probably so often that I’d have gotten a nickname and become a recurring voice (or gag). Would I do it now? Probably only to play a similar role to that which I play on Twitter: fact-checker, conversation starter, and mild wit. Of course, at this stage, after seven years helming “Downstage Center,” I’d apply for a hosting job in a flash. Frankly, I think Pia and I would make a great duo. And with Car Talk off the air, maybe an arts talk call-in show is just what’s needed. Hmmm.

So I’ve gotta go. Need to find the number for the heads of programming for some radio outlets. NPR, WNYC, WBEZ and WGBH, you’re on the top of the list. Go arts, go arts, gooooo arts!

Over there, on my bookshelf, sits the biography of my friend Alan. In its index, you can find an entry, “infidelities and romantic liaisons,” which directs you to pages 97-98, as well as page 209. This is, for me, rather disconcerting.

It is perhaps inevitable that if you work in the entertainment field long enough, you will encounter people about whom books have been written, even books that people have written about themselves. Because we tend to know such people at a remove, we are onlookers, and we end up with the clamor of Entertainment Tonight and talk shows, or the ironic whimsy of Celebrity Autobiography, a stage show in which actors and celebrities read with profoundly satiric intent from the fulsome memoirs of other actors and celebrities, although the texts are typically drawn from such eminences as Joan Collins and David Hasselhoff.

But when a book, be it biography, autobiography or memoir, is about someone with whom you have some genuine connection, I can assure you that your reaction and perception of these works, whether ghost-written, scholarly or deeply personal, changes radically.

In the case of Alan’s biography, which was “authorized,” I found it very strange to be reading details about my friend’s (who is 23 years my senior) early marriage, his somewhat unorthodox childhood, and so on.  One the one hand, I suppose I could have just asked him these things, but our time together is usually spent genially discussing theatre and our present lives over meals; while I have interviewed him in formal settings, those occasions have been focused on his creative work, rather than the particulars of his personal life. Reading that biography, I felt as if I was crossing a line, since, even in our Google-saturated age, it’s sort of creepy to research one’s friends.

This is hardly the only time that biographies have held secrets about people I know and work with, and each and every time I dip into such books, I feel I’m going behind their backs. In several cases, the books haven’t been about my friends, but their parents. I learned of one’s early and brief marriage (disapproved of by her hugely famous mother); in another I learned of a sister, institutionalized since birth and never spoken of to me. I’ve never brought these topics up, and I feel that it’s somehow wrong for me to know them. We typically learn about friends’ lives from sharing moments with them, or from conversation where we each choose what to reveal.

Biography poses one type of social unease, but the memoir – not a formal autobiography, but recollections of one’s own past – is even thornier. A decade ago, Cynthia Kaplan, my college roommate’s sister, long a surrogate sibling of mine, published a book of personal essays, Why I’m Like This. While to most readers, the people in the book were characters, to me they were all-but-in-blood family; I knew most everyone whose photos adorned the inside covers. I laughed in recognition over the chapter about her father’s eternal quest for the perfect Thermos (I have owned several that he has designated superior); I puzzled over the near invisibility of her brother in her tales (prompting me to say to him, “Gee, I never realized your sister was an only child”). Of course I read the book the moment it appeared; I wanted to support Cindy. But I’m still not sure I should know quite so much about her romantic life as she revealed, just as I still feel it was wrong for me to have seen her naked in a bathtub in an independent film screened at MOMA, even if her grandmother was by my side. But she gave me, and thousand who don’t know her at all, leave to do so.

A just-published memoir, Chanel Bonfire, casts yet another light on my biographical quandary. In this case, it is a book by an actress named Wendy Lawless, who I knew causally for nine weeks in 1988 when she played Helena in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at Hartford Stage, where I was the press rep. In her book, she details the somewhat harrowing story of her childhood with her glamorous, erratic, manipulative, alcoholic mother; the book concludes a couple of years before the time I met her. Because her father, who I also met years back, was an actor at The Guthrie Theatre, there are many peripheral characters in the book to whom I am also tangentially connected. There are very few degrees of separation here. On the one hand, as I read the book, my reaction was, “If I’d only known,” but on the other hand, what would I have done? She’d had a difficult life, and at times an exotic one, but would I have interacted with her differently? Would I have cultivated a friendship with Wendy, out of sympathy, instead of mere acquaintance? Did I ever say or do something that could have been construed as insensitive? This book forced a new perspective on a tiny bit of my life.

Perhaps due to the run-up to the book’s publication, Wendy and I became mutual Twitter followers. Unsurprisingly, when I reached out privately, she had not made any connection to our briefly shared past, and perhaps I am still, at best, a vague recollection (I remember every actor who worked at Hartford Stage during my tenure, a by-product of collecting and editing bios and headshots for the show programs).  I imagine we may meet once again, but we are essentially strangers, save for the fact that she has told me, and anyone else who chooses to read her revealing book, intimate details of her first 20 years. All she would know of me, should she care to look, are my biographical details, my opinions on theatre (via blog), and my social media meanderings. The relationship, should one be renewed, is unbalanced, and surely she’ll never solicit stories of my own childhood, which pale next to hers.

Social media has added yet another layer of complication to the issue of privacy and revelation, since we often know a great deal about some people without ever having met them. While I make an effort to meet in real life those with whom I correspond with some frequency, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever get to know all of these new friends.

Just last week, I was chatting back and forth with an actress whose name I know from assorted TV credits, and I’m aware we have some friends in common. She seems just like the sort of person I’d like to know; at least on Twitter, she comes across as smart and warm-hearted, as well as committed to theatre. But it was nagging at me whether I’d seen her on stage, so I did stoop to internet snooping. It turns out that my online friend, Christina Haag, published her own memoir, Come to the Edge, almost two years ago. Its focus: her five year relationship with John Kennedy Jr.

If Christina and I meet, that fact is just going to be sitting there in my frontal lobe and, while I have never been transfixed by the saga of the Kennedys, this connection would surely bring me closer to that family’s sad tragedies that we all know about. While I am to young to recall where I was when President Kennedy was shot, I recall precisely where I was when I heard that John Jr.’s plane was lost mid-flight. It’s one thing when memoir follows acquaintance or friendship, but it’s yet another twist when life details precede meeting.

Spending decades among artists, as well as journalists, it’s safe to assume that there will be more biographies and memoirs from which I am only one degree removed (in her second book, Leave The Building Quickly, Cindy Kaplan twice refers to her brother’s best friend, but I remain frustratingly unnamed). Indeed, as our information era makes personal data ever more accessible, perhaps my comparatively singular experiences will become commonplace for everyone, no matter who they are or what they do. If that comes to pass, then the dissonance I feel at having lives of those I know – or may soon meet – so readily available will dissipate. That’s when, to imbue a cliché with new meaning, everyone’s life becomes an open book.

Ha! Made you look!

Let’s face it, we click on tweets, or posts, with a headlines like this one all the time. Shrewd folks playing in the fields of social media know that to get your attention, they need a grabber. It’s what sold newspapers once upon a time and it lures you to all kinds of content on a daily basis, even if the content doesn’t always support the sensational come-on. As with every infomercial, we can’t help wonder if what’s promised isn’t actually as good as we’re told; as with every con game, we’re willing to be lulled by the belief that some people have a secret that has long eluded most of us. In an era when a highly trafficked source of news and information rigorously chronicles “side boob” photos, the title above is downright dull in its allure. Although not to the right readers.

Since you’re here, let’s take a few minutes and dissect that headline, and consider what makes it tick, o.k.?

1. Numbers: Apparently, people like to know what they’re getting into, so quantification helps them make a decision to explore. If I’d said 100, you might have thought that you didn’t have time. If I’d said three, you’d figure there’s nothing really there. 10 is a reasonable number —  high enough to avoid the appearance of simplicity, low enough to appeal to a generation that now calls in-depth reportage “longreads.”

This isn’t necessarily new. A number of popular religions subscribe to The Ten Commandments (the stone tablets, not the DeMille film), so Top Ten lists are fairly ingrained in the consciousness of many, reinforced by Letterman’s nightly humor by numbers. That’s right: I blame God, Moses and Dave for this redictive approach.

We also seem to be drawn to round numbers, even though I would argue they should make one suspect from the get-go. How can rules, guides, what have you, always manage to work out to multiples of five? Sure, if it’s choosing the 25 Best Side Boob Photos, you can impose an arbitrary limit, but neat numbers setting forth ideas suggest to me that there’s always been a stretch to make things align, so they’re padded, and not all equally of value.

2. Guaranteed: Nothing in life is guaranteed, and that’s abundantly true in social media. Don’t we all get a chuckle every time someone talks about just having shot a “viral video”? “Viral” videos happen, we don’t create them, they’re viral only in hindsight. If anyone knew the perfect formula for widespread attention in social media, we’d all be doing it, just as if there was a right way to put on shows every one would be a roaring success. There’s no question that if you claim to have nude pictures of Prince Harry, and actually do, you’re going to garner a lot of attention, but even a nude photo of your artistic director is going to have limited appeal in just about every case (exception: Spacey).

As someone who shares a great deal of content on Twitter and Facebook, I can tell you that my most popular content has proven the most surprising. The most retweeted items I’ve shared were a late 1960s music video of a singing Leonard Nimoy with Spock-eared go-go girls (554 RT’s) and a mock apology to England for Sherlock’s losses at The Emmys (429 RT’s). My most popular blog was about my wish for greater respect for community theatre; under the title “Theatre The Theatre Community Disdains,” it has been viewed 300% more than my next most popular post. Yet these are all small potatoes compared to what can be achieved by celebrities, or cute animals. They’re not viral; they’re the common cold.

3. Social Media: There is no singular, unified social media. Social media is now a pretty broad category of sites and apps that seek to connect people, known to each other and strangers alike, though some manner of electronic communication. Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Foursquare, Pinterest, Myspace (heh, heh), Instagram and countless others can all be easily categorized as social media, along with plenty of up-and-comers and also-rans (Google+, cough cough). So, unless you are actively engaged on every significant social media platform (and as an individual or small arts group, I suspect you don’t have time for that), it’s quite possible that some or all of the vaunted advice doesn’t even pertain to something you use, even if it is on target.

4. Hacks: While this word can mean everything from cabs & their drivers to incompetent, in this instance it’s derived from “hackers,” those greasy-haired, t-shirt wearing, basement-dwelling computer geniuses* that do everything from foul up corporate websites to reprogram the Kobayashi Maru scenario, exerting their will precisely where no one wants them to be. So “hacks” promise some illicit secret that will give you a competitive advantage in the dog-eat-dog social media jungle.

There’s only one problem. If it’s in a headline on a publicly available site, it’s hardly a secret, and therefore not much of a hack. It surely doesn’t involve fiddling with code or hardware like a real hacker. Use a rule of thumb I was once told about investing: by the time a great stock tip is featured on the front of a magazine, you’re too late. It may not be a complete waste, but you’re way late to the party.

You can’t hack social media. It takes goals, strategy, and a good deal of time to build an effective online community. Can you buy “friends”? Can you give them incentive to “like” you?Apparently, yes. But as in life, it’s not about the number of friends, but the strength of relationships. That can’t be bought.

5. The Arts: Exactly what does “the arts” cover, anyway? If you follow the editorial leadership of Sunday’s New York Times, it could be movies, TV, theatre, dance, rock music, classical music, opera, painting, sculpture. Although on Friday, they make a point of breaking out “fine arts” from the rest of the pack, so it’s not a one size fits all term – just like social media. The generality draws you in, often to find specificity irrelevant to your needs and interests.

But let me now turn that around, and suggest that if you’re only drawn to posts and tweets about the arts, or sharing those same items, you’re probably being too narrow. The social media practices of in other fields might be perfectly adaptable for your purposes; while there are wonderfully innovative people in the arts, there are also great ideas in other professions, and if you only stop for items about the arts, you could be missing out on a lot of great thinking that hasn’t yet trickled into the arts sector.

*   *   *

Now that I’ve dissected this common come-hither construction, you have two choices. You can use it to save time by not reading every bit of ostensible wisdom you come across and looking at some things that may seem off-topic but intriguing. Or you can use its fiendishly clever ruses to draw more attention to your own work and ideas. It’s up to you.

* This is the stereotypical depiction of hackers as portrayed in works of popular fiction. My apologies to all fashion-conscious and hygienic hackers with elegant workspaces.

*   *   *

Update 11/5/12 2:30 pm  Just hours after posting this piece, I learned of a brilliant, deadpan, satirical video produced by the Canadian ad agency John St., promoting a mythical service called Buyral, which purports to allow you hire clickers to give your online video the appearance of going viral. It’s quite superb. I hope it never comes true.

Oh, it won’t be so bad!

At Christmas time last year I found, a poem doth make a pleasing sound

Among tweeps with whom I chat all year, and kindhearted kudos did appear.

But lest I fall back and just repeat, I set myself a different feat

So without much sense or reason, I celebrate many in a diff’rent season.

If your name’s not here, please don’t feel snubbed, I forgot, or simply flubbed;

I ran out of time, or rhyme — imagine I’ve rendered you in mime.

As you read, remember that, this symbol is silent, it’s called @.

Last but not least I must admit, the meter’s not perfect, though I worked to fit.

So I say to those who would note a wrong, “Hey dude, it’s for fun, and it’s not a song.”

*    *    *

As the leaves begin to fall, and shortened days do cast their pall,

Many frightening sights are seen as we prepare for Halloween.

You drift asleep and start to snore, then glimpse e’er-present tweep @DLoehr,

And as your thoughts begin to rage, from the dark leaps @ShentonStage.

While you descend through levels quartzy, you wonder whether good @BenSchwartzy

Will stop your fall, but then there’s pains. Some voodoo plot from that @MattCaines?

Your plunge unchecked, you’re moved to fret, as you drop faster than @Hudsonette.

Plummeting past other friends too, you wonder, “What offense did @JoesView do?

Am I nuts, an addle-pated boobie?” “You’re not,” you’re told by @CassandraKubi,

“And if you complain a bit too hard? Well here’s what we did to @TravisBedard.”

“This is the price I pay?,” you ask of @Beebea. “No, it’s on us. Call it a freebie.”

Aghast you turn to spooky @SimsJames, to see him burst into blazing flames,

No sight of heaven, you head below, to the wails of @JakeyOh;

The temperature enflames your hair, to naught but laughs from @LindsayAbaire.

The heat doth rise, you start to burn, under baleful gaze of @JennaStern;

Who’s laughing all the way to Hell? That rhyming imp, once called @HuntBell.

And who awaits on Satan’s veranda? Hip-hopping @Lin_Manuel Miranda,

Beside him, reduced to quivering wreck? The snarky wit @DavidYazbek.

@WarrenLeightTV waves hi to you, inured to shock by SVU;

And who’s espied in that spectral lobby? The damned-by-Mormon @LopezBobby.

Seated hard by to record this tale, there’s Ph.dead @DERagsdale;

Also chronicling profound trauma, is chuckling critic @PeterMarksDrama.

Avoid fiery spheres, skillfully flung, by eagle-eyed targeter, quick @LFung.

For help, you rightly try to reach out, but there’s no assist from @TerryTeachout.

In one corner, don’t you scoff, or you’ll be singed by @DItzkoff,

With him, singing “Helter Skelter,” media maven @BrianStelter;

Viewing this, you start to swoon, discovering that it’s no @Carr2n.

Used to cold, so sheer out of luck, is Torontonian Kelly @Nestruck.

Iniquities first are small you see, explained by @NPRMonkeySee

“There’s no cable”; you grumble “ick,” but learn of dispatches from @Poniewozik

Nor @Netflix either, that’s upon us, but still: reports from @Slate‘s @JuneThomas.

Then passing by, pushing bloody gurney, now-soulless songstress @JuliaMurney

Carting bodies to the devil’s bower, attended to by dark @DDower

Surrounded by assaulting sound, the banshee voice long named @HowlRound.

Controlled only by @PollyKCarl, cruel Cerberus does start to growl

He’s agitated in these parts by optimism from @NancyArts,

Who’ll soon learn she is no longer human like fellow journo, fierce @matttrueman.

Now you’re ferried cross flaming lake, by sepulchral @PlaybillBlake

Who’s aided by a skeletal fella, her friend in life: that’s @FDilella.

“That scent in the air, perhaps its cinnamon?” “No, it’s brimstone,” says J. @Zinoman.

Despair creeps in, you start to cry, “No sympathy!” shouts @BarbaraChai

“You should have known you’d take this fall,” hisses visionary @KatoriHall;

“But all I did was make fun of a witch.” That’s your mistake,” declares @ClydeFitch.

“You never should have been so glib,” adds shape-shifting @ChrisJonesTrib.

“Indeed,” whispers @GeorgeHunka, “That’s something that you shoulda thunk-a.”

“Enough!,” you cry, “I’m already spent!” “You’ve seen nothing yet,” intones @RobKendt

“I was good,” you plead, “That’s what I thought.” “Not good enough,” chirps @DiepThought.”

@_PlainKate_ directs this fiendish din, while dramturged by @AnikaChapin

Who thought this up? It’s hardly a shocker, it sprang from the brain of @Kockenlocker.

@Ouijum stokes the intense fire, aided by evil @KrisVire;

Can terror be @reduced by @AustinTichenor, presiding o’er this ghoulish kitchen, or

Will the pain simply go on? “’Fraid so,” confides @MCahalane.

Perhaps you’ll rise from ash, like @LindaInPhoenix? “Nope,” bellows @LynnBrooklyn, “So get your kicks.

There’s those who party before turned to jelly, like astute @EVincentelli,

@TheCraptacular found ways to have their fun, by ranking trolls before they’re done;

Directors @LloydJamie and @JerHerrin, chose to enhance this massive scare-in

By throwing an electric heater, into the bath of @NewYorkTheater;

And @MarthaPlimpton got all culty, she sacrificed @CharlesMcNulty.

@KwameKweiArmah and @DavidHenryHwang, boy did they like doing wrong,

Gave @MrJasonRBrown a fit, by dangling his bride @GeorgiaStitt

Over our giant sulfurous lake, tended by @ElissaBlake.”

“Is there no appeal? You have a quorum?” “What, is this @TheShakesForum?

You seek judgment wondrous fair? This ain’t no democracy,” sneered @JimHebert.

“In any event, you’re a total loss, you’ll not be saved by @TylerJMoss

And though compassionate once was she, there’s no reprieve from @WhitneyJE.”

“Now, on one foot, begin to hop,” says beetle-browed @ArtDecoStop,

“Perhaps 100 years of that, and you’ll be joined by @ProductionKat,

As well as @Tim_Mik and fair @NoPlain, they all will share that constant pain

And if you dare to stop for breath, I’ll give you to @KChenoweth,

For though she may be small in size, she likes to sup on juicy eyes.”

Is that another tormentor coming on? Yes! You quake, seeing @MooreJohn

Joined in his perpetual torture biz, by that dastardly @ShowRiz,

They’re jokesters, see, they’re tying a frog on to the face of @AlisonCroggon

And they’ve transformed to a flamingo, the good-hearted @ColmanDomingo.

Another subject of their clever fun is @RobertFalls201

Who’s joined to Ireland’s @GarryHynes by pricking quills of porcupines.

As your body wracks with sobs, do you spy good friend @BackstageJobs

Why yes, look, there’s a hellish theatre, with @TeresaEyring as its greeter

The show, you hear, has good report, from vigilant @KenDavenport,

You buy a ticket from @GoldstarJim, who proffers discounts by his whim.

Dead-tweeting snarky japes and snipes, former good gal one @Spinstripes;

The space is narrow but your starved body fits, right next to critic @KennedyTwits.

It must be press night, for you see @PatrickHealyNYT,

@TheJoeDShow and @FeldmanAdam, all waiting for actors, to get at ‘em.

Will a comedy deflect their scorn? No, it’s a dark play by A. @Ayckbourn.

There’s also a musical by @ValerieVigoda and @BrendanMilburn, they wrote a

Paean to the fiend who’d serve us, on a platter (he’s played by @Cerveris).

If actors exhibit any sloth, they’re poked with a trident by @Jordan_Roth;

Aiding in prompting all to play, is multi-faceted @Kimberly_Kaye.

While chastising late-comers, those foolish slink-ins, is the not-to-be messed-with @TonyaPinkins.

It’s a remarkable cast. Did you suppose you’d see @AnikaNoniRose?

Or that from runic texts, you’d hear a lick, sung by @AudraEqualityMc?

@SFosterNYC shred buns, of her fellow castmates, the young ‘uns,

You find that in life @JeremyShamos had sold his soul to get real famous,

And @JimmyJindo, @MJMcKean, they play out a zombie see-in

Of graphic horror, things filled with pus. You whisper to @JulieHennrikus,

“I just can’t bear this, can you, pardner?” “Well, “she says, “If @LynGardner

Manages to keep her seat, I’ll have to watch them turn to meat

@Dramagirl and @GBenAharon, without revealing I’ve got my scare on.”

What would @nymag make of this culture, subject it to some scorn from @vulture?

Even when you were alive, you could be flayed by @scottstagedive.

The bodies rendered, @NPRScottSimon, digs some graves and then pours lime on

@KristofferDiaz and @MRBplus, as the crowd round you murmurs, “One of us.”

You flee the theatre and in heat feel hail, a favorite prank of @YouveCottMail.

@BroadwayGirlNYC, delighted, tweets joy in a place so cruelly blighted,

You wonder if there is a fix in, some bribe all give to @AndyDickson?

“Is there some favor he can do me?,” you inquire of @GlennSumi.

“No,” he sighs, “Not on heaven or earth, even commended by @AlliHouseworth

Will not make torment remotely fair, just suffer like @TheStage’s @SmithAlistair.”

At long last you come to learn, there’s no escape. Says @SherryStern:

“Your soul has long been placed in hock, with @NPRMelissaBlock,

Be very careful, don’t abandon your wits, or you’ll end up like @AdamSymkowicz

He thought he could be one of hell’s comedians, but that berth’s been given to scribe @Gwydions.”

Then @Antoni_ssf bursts in, joined by @WTFest’s @JGersten

Shouting, “Go! It’s your time now, man, you have to see the cruel @ChadBauman.”

This gives you such a chilling start, you cry to be saved by @TheatreSmart

Or @DevonVSmith, digital maven, can she construct some private haven?

Anything to block this world so harrowing, perhaps @markcaro

Or @PiaCatton, she can be tough, and fight for succor, just enough

So that brutish @HellerNYT won’t assail you, and if not free

Some music might be heard all over, a bit perhaps from @RyanScottOliver.

Then all at once, in this damned place, clouds of smoke obscure your face,

You drop to the ground, start to scuttle, defying this ruse by wily @AShuttl,

Or perhaps it’s more cruel games, devised by @BrianDarcyJames.

The ground it continues hard to shake – and with that, you bolt awake.

You are no Scrooge, what you’ve just seen, is merely brought by Halloween.

So go and give to children candy, and everything will be just dandy.