Robert Branch and Camila Christian in The Mountaintop at Kent State University

In the many press accounts of director Michael Oatman casting a white man to play Dr. Martin Luther King in Katori Hall’s The Mountaintop, stories have all acknowledged Oatman’s original concept of splitting the role between black and white actors. His intent was, in his words:

“I truly wanted to explore the issue of racial ownership and authenticity.  I didn’t want this to be a stunt, but a true exploration of King’s wish that we all be judged by the content of our character and not the color of our skin,” said Oatman about his non-traditional cast.  “I wanted the contrast . . . I wanted to see how the words rang differently or indeed the same, coming from two different actors, with two different racial backgrounds.”

That narrative has prevailed, even when Katori Hall let it be known that she did not and would not ever approve of a white actor playing King in her play. Just as I had in my original post on this incident, she wondered why the black actor sharing the role was so little in evidence. Even after speaking with Oatman, Hall wrote:

“It’s true that Oatman only fell halfway off the ‘turn-up’ truck; the white actor was indeed sharing the role with another black actor. But the fact that this mystery actor has remained nameless further demonstrates the erasure of the black body in this experiment. Even on the school newspaper’s website, only the white actor’s name is listed.”

As it turns out, the reason this black actor is so scarce is because no black actor performed in the role of Martin Luther King at Kent State. As part of an interview with Oatman, the Akron Beacon Journal reports:

“At Kent State, Oatman originally double cast the King role, with white actor Robert Branch for three performances and a black actor for five shows. When more than one black actor dropped out due to family and other personal issues, Branch, whom Oatman described as one of the best actors he’s ever seen, assumed all eight performances.”

Even if one gives credence to Oatman’s intellectual basis for attempting to split the role, it evaporated along with the unnamed black actor, regardless of Branch’s talent. At that point, the already unjustifiable production should have been irrevocably abandoned, since the entire conceptual underpinning had come undone. What Oatman did was not a half-measure, as Hall was apparently led to believe, as we were all led to believe, but indeed the complete erasure of a black body as she had feared. There was no rationalization left, yet despite the intense press interest since Hall published her essay on TheRoot.com, Oatman at best quietly allowed a myth to be sustained, or at worst actively sought to keep the truth of the production secret to anyone interested, until this interview.

That this fact is virtually an aside in the Beacon Journal’s follow-up, which largely affords an unfettered opportunity for Oatman to advance his reasoning yet again, with nothing but quotes from Hall’s essay as pushback, seems a conscious effort to minimize the facts of the narrative. In citing supportive messages from friends on Oatman’s Facebook page, and noting that there were only a few walkouts as if that made the casting acceptable, the Beacon Journal is complicit in failing to address the willful lack of fidelity to the playwright’s intent. Where are the quotes from Hall’s friends, who were outraged. In addition, by saying at one point of Hall that “she railed,” rather than “she wrote,” there is also an implication that Hall’s thoughts on this issue were somehow not presented in an “acceptable” manner, another unfortunate choice.

So the summary of the Kent State Mountaintop story is: the creative decision was faulty to begin with, ultimately abandoned (no matter what the reason) and possibly kept secret even as scrutiny was focused on the production. Whether by omission or misdirection, Oatman has compounded his troubling creative decision immeasurably.

Though Oatman has said he wouldn’t make this particular choice again, he seems unbowed by the response from Hall and the playwriting community. He told the Journal:

“I think artists get too touchy about this kind of stuff,” he said. “I think whenever you make a controversial decision like this you have to allow the audience their space to react as they’re going to react. That’s what theater is about.”

If a director’s ethical and legal responsibility to other artists is dismissed as being “touchy,” indeed by someone who is primarily a playwright, any questions about Oatman’s judgment in this case should no longer be in question. He finds widely accepted professional practices to be a nuisance, when they are fundamental to the field he works in.

If his goal was to court controversy, Oatman has probably succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, and there may be more yet to come. But if his goal was to illuminate Katori Hall’s play for audiences, it’s quite clear that he failed, even if people applauded. He may have thought originally that what he was doing wasn’t a stunt, but in the end, that’s just what it turned out to be.

Update, November 16, 4:45 pm: In sharing my post on Facebook, Katori Hall prefaced it, in part, with the following statement:

“…When I spoke to Michael Oatman via phone October 27th, he never disclosed the fact that the black actor never went on, even when I questioned the validity of his social experiment of seeing if the ‘words rang differently or indeed the same, coming from two different actors, with two different racial backgrounds.’

I learned that the black actor never went on when Oatman was interviewed Friday night by Don Lemon on CNN. Surprise, surprise.

Howard Sherman is the interim director of the Alliance for Inclusion in the Arts and director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College of Performing Arts School of Drama.

Rehearsal for Jesus in India at Clarion University

“The students are victims,” writes playwright Lloyd Suh, regarding the events that led to his play Jesus in India being canceled a little more than a week before it was to be produced at Clarion University in Pennsylvania. Presumably, anyone learning of students who have been preparing a production for weeks, only to not be able to present it to audiences, would agree with that statement, no matter what they may think of the circumstance surrounding the cancelation, first reported in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. It is truly unfortunate. But there are larger issues and perhaps greater lessons at stake.

As many others have reported, Suh wrote earlier this week to Marilouise Michel, professor of theatre in the Department of Visual and Performing Arts at Clarion, asking that either three roles written as Indian characters but cast at Clarion with two Caucasian students and one mixed race student, either be cast with students of color or the production canceled. The university theatre department opted for the latter.

* * *

Regarding the casting of Caucasian students in specifically ethnic roles, Michel said, “I realized that the Jewish characters were from Palestine. In my mind, to truly cast them correctly they would have had to be Palestinian, I guess, and the Indian characters would have to be Indian. But I read Mr. Suh’s program notes from the production at the Magic Theatre in San Francisco, where he specifically states that the play is for anybody, the play is universal. Perhaps I misunderstood what he meant, but I thought I was taking him at his word, so I cast it without thinking what color people were at all. I would have cast a black Jesus if I had the right person for the role. I wasn’t thinking that this was a play about race. When I do plays about race, I try to be extraordinarily sensitive to those issues.”

In a statement, included below in its entirety, Suh speaks specifically to his comment, writing, “Much has been made of an interview I gave years ago in which I used the word ‘universal’ to describe the play. But universal does not and should not mean white, or the privilege of ignoring race. I wish it were not so difficult to accept that an actor of color, playing a character of color, could convey something universal. To understand that white actors should not be the default option for any role. To recognize that people of color are not simply replaceable.”

Regarding casting beyond the specifics of a script, Michel said, “It’s not unusual in college productions to change the gender of a character to offer opportunities to the students that are available.” Asked whether approval for such changes are sought from playwrights or their representatives, she said, “I don’t deal with the contracts. The department chair and the student association deal with the contracts. But should it seem like we’re doing something that’s against the contract, we would definitely address it. I always check with my superiors if I think that’s going to be an issue.” The superior she was referring to was department chair Bob Levy, who declined via e-mail to be interviewed for this piece.

She continued, “We’ve never done it in a play where we thought race was an important issue of the script, or the gender was an important issue of the script. Sometimes the director might address the issue in the program of why it was done. While I hesitate to connect myself to Michael Oatman [director of The Mountaintop at Kent State where a white actor was cast as Martin Luther King], it would be similar in that it’s an academic exercise of, ‘what if?’ which is what we do in acting.”

As for the issue of race in Jesus in India, Michel said, “I don’t feel like it was the focus of the play. I feel like the focus teenagers coming of age and maturing, and that’s what spoke to me about the script and led me to think this would be a wonderful opportunity for the students in my program.”

To Suh, authentic representation of race is essential. He wrote, “I could not allow the play to be performed with white actors in non-white roles before a public audience. This is not a unique position. It is not strange or radical. It is common industry practice that productions of copyrighted plays adhere to the requirements of the text. In addition, as a writer of color in a field where representation and visibility are ongoing struggles, I feel a responsibility to provide opportunities for artists of color to be seen, and to protect that work from distortion in the public eye. The practice of using white actors to portray non-white characters has deep roots in ugly racist traditions. It sends a message, intended or not, that is exclusionary at best, dehumanizing at worst.”

Michel noted that, in planning the production, “I was expecting controversy, but I wasn’t expecting this.” She explained, “In my little small, conservative community I had Jesus saying ‘fuck ‘ over and over. He’s smoking weed, he’s got a girl, he gets a girl pregnant, he screams ‘I pulled out’ at one point. He says ‘My god damn father.” All of which I’m cringing at, thinking, I have to be brave and represent this playwright’s work. We’re going to be pickets by the conservative Christians. I’m getting e-mails from conservative Christians saying their prayers have been answered, implying we got what we deserved. They’re so glad that this play is not going to be produced in our community, because it portrays Jesus as different from the Bible.”

* * *

Clarion University is a small state university in Western Pennsylvania, with a student body of approximately 5,700 students in total, 4,900 being undergraduates, according to data from the National Center for Education Statistics. The school body is 83% white, 7% black, 2% Latino or Hispanic, 2% multiracial and 1% Asian. The Pittsburgh Post Gazette reported the Asian student body as being below 1%, but in real numbers on a campus of 5,700, 1% translates to a total of 57 Asian students. How must they feel in the midst of all this? These numbers do contrast with the representation of diversity implied by the university home page (shown at right) in which the racial representation seems much more broadly spread.

In light of the protests at the University of Missouri and Yale University in recent weeks, the subject of racial representation on campuses is top of mind for many people, and it certainly should extend into performing arts programs. On the one hand, the decision of the theatre program to produce a show set in India with Indian characters is an admirable step towards addressing diversity, but the likely inability to cast roles without racial authenticity calls into question whether the choice would ultimately make students of color feel included.

After what has transpired this week, will Michel think differently when producing works in which there are characters of color? “Well of course,” she replied, “particularly with living playwrights.”

Clarion’s website outlines an array of programs to address gender, racial and disability diversity. But despite the public controversy surrounding Jesus in India, Michel says that she has not spoken with anyone in those programs about what has transpired. “No one has reached out to me at this point,” she said.

* * *

It’s important to know that the planned production of Jesus in India at Clarion transformed the play, which had a few songs, into a full-blown musical. With permission from the playwright, Michel commissioned an original score which ran to 21 songs and underscoring. The playwright and his agent approved the composer, but for this one production, did not seek approval over the material itself. However, that did not extend to other approvals, for which the contract noted that the playwright’s approval was required.

Beth Blickers, Suh’s agent, commented that while she had inquired about the racial casting early on, and was told it was too early to know, but there was considerable communication about the new score.

“I think the music change is the key factor,” said Blickers. “That’s the thing they understood. The issue about ethnicity, they were reasonably oblivious to. They acknowledged that I asked and they belatedly said it wasn’t cast yet and then they forgot.”

Michel said that she had asked several times to confer with Suh, but was told he was unavailable. She said, “I believe that a dialogue early on, it would have come clear what his priorities were, that I wasn’t seeing things the way he was. I don’t disagree with his right to feel the way he does about his work. I just wish I had known, so that either we could have had a meeting of the minds or I wouldn’t have invested my time and my students in this venture.” Blickers said that Suh was wrapped up in other productions and family issues and didn’t have the time to visit Clarion or consult with them.

There has also been considerable discussion online over the timing of Suh’s letter, which he addresses in his statement. Michel says that it is her understanding that the contract was in force as soon as the university signed it and sent a $500 payment, and that since the check was cashed, all was in place. Blickers says that the contract was never received and that while the $500 check was cashed (and is now being returned), the contract was never signed by the playwright, and therefore the contract was not in force. Suh asserts that the first time he realized the play was going into production was via a posting of rehearsal photos on Facebook.

* * *

I have advocated previously about the rights of artists, most often playwrights, to control their work, and on the heels of the controversy over Jesus in India and The Mountaintop, I feel it’s incumbent upon me to restate that university productions are not exempt from copyright law or licensing contracts. While academic exploration in a classroom of a scene from a play which allows an actor to explore a role written for someone of another race may prove valuable, once the work is presented in front of an audience, or in its entirety, whether only to a university-based audience or the general public, the playwright’s wishes must take precedence. I say that from both an ethical and legal standpoint.

As for the idea that race doesn’t always matter or isn’t central to a particular work, if the playwright has indicated characters of a certain ethnicity, that should be adhered to, permission should be sought to make a change, or another work should be chosen. While Jesus in India may be still in manuscript form, and therefore lacking in some of the details an officially published script may contain, the combination of the title and character names of “Gopal,” “Mahari/Mary,” and “Sushil” seem quite specific. To assume that this information isn’t central to the playwright’s vision and the actors chosen to portray them needn’t be specific seems a willful overlooking of the context of the work, even if the race is not explicitly stated in the script or licensing agreement. As I wrote about The Mountaintop, and Katori Hall has done and Suh will now do, this seems to require even more specificity from playwrights, to insure their wishes are followed. This is not an effort to be racially divisive, but rather to insure that roles for artists of color remain in their grasp, in part to address the ongoing inequities in racial roles and racial casting.

“The conversation is how far are we going to take this,” Michel said to me, “with truly understanding all points of view, to not be a part of diminishing anyone’s pain or experience. I don’t want to diminish that, I just want to know how to make it right and tell stories that aren’t just about white girls.”

Given the makeup of the student body at Clarion, I understand the challenge. But the discussion is not so granular as wondering whether only actors of Irish descent should play Irish roles, as Michel asked me rhetorically in reference to an upcoming Clarion production. Instead, it is about insuring that roles written for people of color are never diminished, or to use Katori Hall’s word, “erased.”

And despite the pictures on the school’s website, if the theatre department is to be able to do shows about more than just “white girls,” it seems the university must address broadly diversifying the student body, not just so more plays can be done authentically, but so people of color are indeed not minorities on the campus, but truly well-represented in the school community, thereby enhancing and informing every aspect of campus life.

* * *

Earlier this morning, the official Clarion University Twitter feed contained the following message: “With the cancellation of ‘Jesus in India’ we hope to reflect upon how race and culture should relate to creative works such as these.”

As painful as this experience has been for all concerned, this seems a positive step. If indeed Clarion follows through, I hope they will avail themselves of resources in the theatrical community, who I have little doubt would be willing to travel to western Pennsylvania to participate in that process in a positive and supportive manner. And I’m willing to drive the van.

* * *

FULL STATEMENT FROM LLOYD SUH

Regarding the cancellation of my play JESUS IN INDIA at Clarion University, I hope the following statement clarifies my entire position.

My first contact with Clarion was in January, when Marilouise Michel requested a copy of the play and invited me to work on it with her students. Due to other commitments, I was unable to participate, but I did express willingness to let them use the play for classroom purposes without me.

I didn’t hear anything again until late May, when I was informed they were experimenting with the piece as a musical. It is highly atypical to do such work without direct collaboration from the author, so I asked for more information. In particular, if their exploration was simply for private, in-class use, I was happy to let them do whatever they desired. Although I could not participate directly, I was certainly curious what they might discover. However, if their intention was a full production with a public audience, I asked specifically whether they would be able to honor the general ethnicity of the characters.

I did not hear anything else from anyone at Clarion again until October 30, well into the rehearsal process.

I was not informed that a production was taking place.

I was not informed about any casting activities.

I was not informed about any license agreement granting rights to perform the play. It has since been confirmed to me that while negotiations towards an agreement did occur through my agent, no agreement was ever executed, meaning Clarion’s right to perform the play was, in fact, never granted.

Instead, on October 30, I was asked whether I would be able to Skype with the actors. Usually my response would be of course. However, because I had no idea a production was even taking place, my reaction was What?

So I searched online to find out what was happening, and saw photos that seemed to show two of the Indian characters portrayed by Caucasian actors, in total disregard for my earlier query. My agent immediately wrote to Ms. Michel for clarification. Her response on November 2 acknowledged receipt of our previous question on casting, but in her words:

“When you asked, I hadn’t cast the show, and then I forgot.”

On November 9, after confirming that a fully executed license agreement did not exist, I sent an email to Ms. Michel insisting that she either recast, or cancel the production. I absolutely understand that this has caused anger, confusion and disappointment among the actors and crew that had been hard at work on the piece. I do not take that lightly. The students are victims, and the timing of this mess has raised many questions. But the timing was never in my control.

I could not allow the play to be performed with white actors in non-white roles before a public audience. This is not a unique position. It is not strange or radical. It is common industry practice that productions of copyrighted plays adhere to the requirements of the text. In addition, as a writer of color in a field where representation and visibility are ongoing struggles, I feel a responsibility to provide opportunities for artists of color to be seen, and to protect that work from distortion in the public eye. The practice of using white actors to portray non-white characters has deep roots in ugly racist traditions. It sends a message, intended or not, that is exclusionary at best, dehumanizing at worst.

This includes university theater programs, which are a crucial part of the way professional theater is born. We are witnessing a moment on multiple college campuses where racial tensions are undeniable and extremely dangerous. I cannot grant university programs an allowance on these matters that I would never grant a professional theater.

Much has been made of an interview I gave years ago in which I used the word “universal” to describe the play. But universal does not and should not mean white, or the privilege of ignoring race. I wish it were not so difficult to accept that an actor of color, playing a character of color, could convey something universal. To understand that white actors should not be the default option for any role. To recognize that people of color are not simply replaceable.

It was not my intention to debate this matter in public. I attempted to settle the issue privately, but Clarion’s insistence on involving the press and releasing my personal communication has made this statement imperative. I am now grateful for that opportunity, as I hope this clears the air on my intentions, and the circumstances under which this cancellation has taken place.

* * *

Update, November 16 at 12 pm: I wrote more about the cancelation of Jesus in India at Clarion University, and the school’s public relations campaign against such. Read that post by clicking here.

Update, November 19 at 8 am: While it is only one issue in the discussion of Jesus in India at Clarion, and in my opinion notably subordinate to the central issues of artists’ rights and racial representation, I have continued to explore the topic of whether the play had been properly licensed. After conversations with both parties, as well as licensing companies that regularly contract for non-professional productions regarding common practices, I can say that there were some factors which could have led the theatre faculty at Clarion to believe they had licensed the play.

While the totality of the agreement prepared by Suh’s agency required signatures by both parties, a phrase early in the agreement (“when signed by you” as opposed to, say, “when signed by us both”) could suggest that only an official Clarion signature and a payment was required. Clarion maintains that they nonetheless returned a signed contract and made the required payment, which was accepted; the agency acknowledges receipt of the payment but not the signed contract, which is why a countersigned agreement was never returned to Clarion. Short of legal discovery to reveal all communications between the parties, the discrepancy over the sending and receipt of the agreement cannot be sorted definitively.

It is not uncommon for licensing companies – not authors’ agents – to send agreements to non-professional producers, a term which which encompasses academic productions, that do not require a signature and returned agreement at all. An e-mailed contract is considered the legal “offer” and receipt of payment is considered “acceptance” of all terms. However, that was not the case with this specific agreement, which was never fully executed and therefore not in force.

* * *

Howard Sherman is interim director of the Alliance for Inclusion in the Arts and director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College of Performing Arts School of Drama.

Vandalized “Women of Purpose” (photo courtesy of Kate Czaplinski, Trumbull Times)

Last night, a painting hanging in the town library in Trumbull, Connecticut was defaced, while in the same building, the library board was holding a meeting about the display of said painting. I wish I could say I was surprised that this happened, but to be honest, I’m not. I’ve been expecting it. I believe this was the inevitable result of a series of events that broke into public awareness two weeks ago, when the town’s First Selectman ordered the painting removed.

Let’s review the timeline:

• A collection of paintings entitled “The Great Minds Collection,” commissioned by Trumbull residents Richard and Joan Resnick has been on display at the Trumbull Library since the fall of 2014. It had previously been on display at nearby Fairfield University.
• In mid-February, the Bridgeport Archdiocese made it known publicly that they were displeased about one painting in the collection, “Women of Purpose,” because it included in its depiction of influential women both Mother Teresa and Margaret Sanger. The library itself received eight calls of complaint and a religious order in India notified the town that any use of Mother Teresa’s image was a copyright violation.
• In response to the copyright claim, which experts – save for the town attorney – agreed was specious, the First Selectman Timothy M. Herbst ordered the librarian to remove the painting to protect the town. He said he required an indemnification from the Resnicks against any copyright claims that might arise from the painting, which the Resnicks had already provided verbally and were happy to commemorate in writing. This action generated significant press attention throughout the state.
• When the First Selectman then said he required indemnification against any claims that might arise from possible damage to the collection while in the town’s care, publicly chastised the librarian and library board for not having secured one previously, and accused the librarian of ethics violations in her dealings with the Resnicks.
• The Resnicks agreed to sign an indemnification agreement against damage to the collection, but balked when the town reportedly proffered language that could have made them responsible for such instances as one of the paintings falling off the wall and causing damage or injury, as well as requiring that the Resnicks foot the bill for repairing and repainting library walls when the exhibition concluded.
• On Friday, March 6, the town added a rider to its own insurance policy covering the paintings and “Women of Purpose” was rehung at the library.
• Five days later, someone defaced the image of Margaret Sanger.

As quoted in the Trumbull Times, First Selectman Herbst responded to last night’s vandalism by saying, “I think this proves exactly what we have been saying for the last three weeks.”

Here’s what’s faulty with Herbst’s argument: this wasn’t a public issue until he made it one. By demanding the removal of the painting, by sending a barrage of communications to the Resnicks and others and by simultaneously releasing them to the local press, he elevated dispute into controversy, all the while saying he was doing it to protect the town. His tactics likely led to the painting becoming a target, in a way it hadn’t been before.

Why didn’t Mr. Herbst simply ask the Resnicks for indemnification, working through the established channels of their relationship with the library? Why, if the town had such language ready for works that might be displayed in town hall, wasn’t that immediately offered to the Resnicks? Why did Herbst accept the sole legal opinion that encouraged removal of the painting, instead of seeking further guidance from an intellectual property lawyer? Why if the concern was for the safety of the paintings while in the possession of the town did he demand only that the single painting, the one which had been the subject of complaints, be removed, when surely his liability concerns pertained to all of them?

While I don’t deny that some of the responses from the Resnicks and their attorney were part of the escalation of tensions, the fact is this could have all been handled quickly and quietly as part of an administrative process. Instead, by selectively removing the one painting that had received some complaints – an act of censorship, not protection – this was transformed into a culture war: of art, of ideas, of expression and of religion.

In all of the discussion of the painting itself – and I respect the beliefs and opinions of all of those who are distressed by it – I haven’t seen anyone make the argument about the fact that in this work, Mother Teresa and Margaret Sanger are at the opposite ends of the frame. I’m not art critic, but one could validly say that while all contained are influential women, the great nun and the family planning pioneer are literally as far apart as they can get, opposite ends of the spectrum. Might that not reflect their divergent views? It’s one simplistic interpretation, I know, but might it not be a valid one? Does their mere presence in the same image declare that one endorses the tenets of another?

I am impressed that Dr. Resnick has stated that he will not press charges if the vandal is caught, which is a generous statement that shows his desire to return the conversation to one of ideas, not vindictiveness. That said, Mr. Herbst must be held to his statement to the Connecticut Post that, “”We’re going to nail the person who did this and Police Chief (Michael) Lombardo and I are mutually committed to holding the person who did this accountable.” Without that investigation, without someone held responsible, the town sends the message that vandalism is an acceptable form of debate anywhere in the town of Trumbull, let alone inside a town property.

It’s unfortunate and infuriating that we’re seeing the many faces of censorship in Trumbull. It’s also unfortunate that the actions of town officials set it in motion on the pretext of municipal protection, rather than handling what was obviously a potentially charged situation with finesse and with care for the protection of open public discourse and the expression of ideas through art.

 Howard Sherman is Director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at the New School for Drama.

Note: crude or ad hominem attacks in comments will be removed at my discretion. This is not censorship, but my right as the author of this blog to insure that conversation remains civil. Comments will not be removed simply because we disagree.

When Randy Newman’s Faust receives a one-night concert presentation this week as part of City Center’s Encores! Off Center series, its NYC debut could be the end of the road or a new beginning for this two decade old musical conceived by the prolific songwriter, whose early 70s songwriting fame has been eclipsed in many peoples’ minds by his popular film scores. Having started as a 1993 concept album featuring Newman, James Taylor, Linda Ronstadt, Elton John and others, the show, co-written by David Mamet, made it to the stage of the La Jolla Playhouse in 1995 and then to Chicago’s Goodman Theatre in 1996, under the direction of Michael Greif, in the same period that saw the launch of the Greif-directed Rent.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1OPPi9e6LU

Over the years, there have been countless musicals created by or utilizing the music of rock and pop stars, from Paul Simon and Trey Anastasio to Abba and Elton John. But a handful of projects tied to popular recording artists have been launched around the U.S. and in England that, like Faust, never made it to New York. Here’s a quick rundown of some you may not know about.

The Education of Randy Newman/Harps & Angels

The lure of Randy Newman’s music has tempted many to want to bring it to the stage, and there have been two other efforts that didn’t get to NYC. The Education of Randy Newman played at South Coast Rep in 2000 and resurfaced at ACT in Seattle in 2002. Harps and Angels played at the Center Theatre Group’s Mark Taper Forum in 2010. The first show was an attempt to tell the story of Newman’s musical family, conceived by Michael Roth, Jerry Patch and Newman. At South Coast, it was directed by Myron Johnson and the cast included Alison Smith, Scott Waara, Jennifer Leigh Warren; in Seattle it was directed by Gordon Edelstein and Johnson and the cast included Daniel Jenkins and William Katt. Harps & Angels was conceived by Jack Viertel and directed by Jerry Zaks; the cast included Storm Large, Michael McKean and Katey Sagal.

What’s most surprising about these two attempts at a Newman revue is that there had already been a moderately successful one that did play New York long before either of the others were developed, back in 1982. First seen in NYC at the Astor Place Theatre, Maybe I’m Doing It Wrong was conceived and directed by Joan Micklin Silver, and the cast included Mark Linn-Baker and Deborah Rush. It was subsequently produced at the La Jolla Playhouse in 1984 in a revised production that featured Melanie Chartoff, Dann Florek, Dee Hoty and Paul McCrane under the direction of Susan Cox.

Zapata

For roughly a decade from the mid-60s to mid-70s, Harry Nilsson was at the top of his game as a singer songwriter, with multiple hit albums and chart-topping songs both for himself and other artists. He even created a made for television children’s cartoon, The Point, with a musical score that is indelibly remembered by those watching TV in the early 70s and now licensed for stage production. He also wrote the charming songs for the otherwise problematic Popeye movie with Robin Williams. But as chronicled in the recent documentary Who Is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talking About Him)?, he was also an alcoholic who sabotaged his voice, his career and his health. His one stage effort, Zapata, about the famed Mexican revolutionary, never made it past a tryout run at the Goodspeed Opera House in 1980. Of course, part of the problem may have been Nilsson and his friend Ringo Starr spending more time at the Gelston House bar next door to Goodspeed than in the theatre itself. And in one of its more incongruous quirks, Zapata had its genesis in an idea from musical comedy star and game show host Bert Convy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cbm4w5IsGE

80 Days

A jukebox musical about the early days of The Kinks, Sunny Afternoon, is headed into the West End after a successful run at the Hampstead Theatre in London, but it’s not the first musical to feature songs by Ray Davies. 80 Days, an adaptation of Jules Verne’s Around The World In 80 Days by Davies and playwright Snoo Wilson (who replaced Barrie Keeffe) was offered up by the La Jolla Playhouse back in 1988; it trod a path forged decades earlier by no less than Orson Welles and Cole Porter, whose Broadway Around The World managed 75 performances in 1946. In La Jolla, 80 Days featured Timothy Landfield and Stephen Bogardus under Des McAnuff’s direction.

Our House

Among the leading lights of ska music for decades, the band Madness’s catalogue of hits were the basis for the musical Our House, an Ayckbournian musical that showed how one man’s life could go in two very different directions (long before If/Then). With a book by Tim Firth and directed by Matthew Warchus, the show was the surprise winner of the Olivier Award for Best Musical in 2003, beating out Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Bombay Dreams and Taboo. It wasn’t a long-running West End smash, but it has proven popular enough that its tenth anniversary was marked by a West End concert that reunited many of the original cast members and also featured Madness frontman Suggs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndnxGlGVxZM

We Will Rock You

We Will Rock You may well be the most successful rock musical to never play New York. Despite being critically reviled, it chalked up an 11-year West End run based on the popularity of the Queen catalogue, despite Ben Elton’s outlandish sci-fi storyline. It’s worth noting that the show has also toured the U.S. and played an extended run in Las Vegas, so New York may be one of the only major U.S. cities to have not been rocked by the show. Presumably it will also never see the sequel, which is reportedly in the works.

Yentl

Isaac Bashevis Singer’s cross-dressing heroine may have been heard by her Poppa over 30 years ago on film, but just last year she sang on stage at the Asolo Repertory Theatre in Florida using a score by Jill Sobule, of “I Kissed A Girl Fame.” No word on whether there’s any future life for the project, which used Leah Napolin’s non-musical play for its book and was directed by Gordon Greenberg.

Girlfriend

You might want to say I’m cheating because it did make it to Joe’s Pub, but Todd Almond’s reworking of Matthew Sweet songs into a coming of age romance hasn’t had a major outing in NYC on a legit stage. First seen at Berkeley Rep in 2012 and then in 2013 at Actors Theatre of Louisville, Almond took Sweet’s rocking and plaintive songs of alternately angry and mournful romance (the album included a love song to Winona Ryder) and made it a two-character musical for two young men.

Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots

This column would have been vastly briefer if it hadn’t been for the La Jolla Playhouse, which could lay claim to being the American theatre that sits most squarely and the intersection of musical theatre and popular music (let’s not forget two of their successes, including Jersey Boys and Tommy). Former artistic director Des McAnuff collaborated with Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne on this futuristic tale using songs by the Lips; the theatre’s website synopsized the show thusly: “Yoshimi must choose between two boyfriends, but first she’s got to take down an army of pink robots. This magical tale of love and the struggle for survival is a poignant and humanistic story.” No word on whether our robot overlords will reach Manhattan.

The Ghost Brothers of Darkland County

The idea of Stephen King and John Mellencamp collaborating on a musical sounded pretty exciting when it was first announced, but after their show debuted at Atlanta’s Alliance Theater Company in 2012, many people realized that a musical created by people who had no experience writing a musical, or for that matter, for the stage, might be somewhat problematic. The following year, the show went out of tour in a pared down concert version, reversing the route of shows that showcase their wares in concerts before moving to full production. It suggests that the Ghost Brothers will be confined in little pink houses under a dome for the foreseeable future.

*   *   *

I have no doubt that this rundown is incomplete. By all means, add other examples, including video links whenever possible, in the comments section below.

Position 1: a stage production that is recorded, filmed or actually broadcast live ceases to be theatre. It may be considered television or film, but it is a record of theatre, not the thing itself. True theatre is experienced in the flesh, so to speak.

Position 2: for people who have no means to see any theatre, or a specific production, a recording or live transmission of the event, whether it occurs in a movie theatre or on a computer, is better than not seeing it at all, provided it is at least competently produced.

Position 3: even though it means I don’t get to see some things that really interest me, I don’t enjoy recorded theatre, no matter how artfully done, and I’m lucky enough to have access to lots of great theatre live, so after a few tries, I now don’t go. But that shouldn’t stop anyone else.

Why have I laid out these positions so baldly, rather than making a case for them? Because I want to talk about an aspect of the growing appetite for cinecasts, NT Live, the home delivery Digital Theatre and the like that isn’t about the viewing experience at all. That’s a matter of opportunity and preference and I leave it to everyone else to hash out those issues. My interest in this trend is about how it is branding certain cultural events and producers ­– and how U.S. theatre is quickly losing ground.

In general, people attend commercial theatre based upon the appeal of a production – cast, creative team, author, reviews, word of mouth, etc. Who produced a show is pretty much irrelevant, and only theatre insiders can usually tell you who produced any given work.  In institutional theatre, the producer has more impact, as people may attend because they have enjoyed a company’s work previously, because it conveys a certain level of quality. This is true in major cities and regionally, and while the name of the theatre alone isn’t sufficient for sales, it is a factor in a way it isn’t in the West End or on Broadway.

As a result, what is happening with theatrecasts is that the reach of the companies utilizing this opportunity is vastly extended, and the brands of the companies travel far beyond those who sit in their seats or regularly read or hear about their work. There’s long been prestige attached to The Royal Shakespeare Company, the Metropolitan Opera and the National Theatre; now their presence in movie theatres has served to increase access and awareness.  These longstanding brands are being burnished anew now that more people can actually see their work. The relatively young Shakespeare’s Globe, even as it makes its Broadway debut, is also gaining recognition thanks to recordings of their shows.

It should be noted that for UK companies, “live” is a misnomer when it comes to North American showings. We’re always seeing the work after the fact, given the time difference, so in many ways it’s no different than a pre-recorded stage work on PBS. But the connotation of live is a valuable imprimatur, and few seem to mind it, even when there are “encore” presentations of shows from prior years. The scale of a movie screen, the quality of a cinema sound system appear to be the true lure, along with the fact that these are not extended engagements, but carefully limited opportunities that don’t compete with actual movie releases.

MEMPHIS, one of the rare U.S. originated cinecasts

Regretfully, by and large, American theatre (and theatres) are missing the boat on this great opportunity for exposure, for revenue, for branding. There have been the occasional cinecasts (Memphis The Musical; Roundabout’s Importance of Being Earnest, imported from Canada’s Stratford Festival) but they’re few and far between.  We’re about to get a live national television broadcast of the stage version of The Sound of Music, but it’s an original production for television, not a stage work being shared beyond its geographic limitations.  Long gone are the days when Joseph Papp productions of Much Ado About Nothing and Sticks And Bones were seen in primetime on CBS; when Bernard Pomerance’s The Elephant Man was produced for ABC with much of the original Broadway cast; when Nicholas Nickleby ran in its entirety on broadcast TV; when PBS produced Theatre in America, showcasing regional productions, when Richard Burton’s Hamlet was filmed on Broadway for movie theatre showings 50 years ago.

London MERRILY rolled across the Atlantic

Most often, when this topic comes up in conversations I’ve been party to, there’s grumbling about prohibitive union costs as a roadblock. Perhaps the costs have changed since the days of many of the examples I just cited, yet somehow Memphis and Earnest surmounted them. Even as someone who doesn’t particularly care to see these recorded stage works, I worry that American theatre is lagging our British counterparts in showcasing work nationally and internationally, in taking advantage of technology to advance the awareness of our many achievements.  Seeing an NT Live screening has become an event unto itself – this week the National’s Frankenstein is back just in time for Halloween; the enthusiasm last week for the cinecast of Merrily We Roll Along (from the West End by way of the Menier Chocolate Factory) was significant, at least according to my Twitter and Facebook feeds.  The appetite is also attested to by an online poll from The Telegraph in London, with 90% of respondents favoring theatre at the movies (concurrent with an article about the successful British efforts in this area).  I’d like to see this same enthusiasm used not just to bring U.S. theatre overseas, but to bring Los Angeles theatre to Chicago, Philadelphia theatre to San Francisco, Seattle theatre to New York, and so on – and not just when a show is deemed commercially viable for a Broadway transfer or national tour.

I’m not trying to position this as a competition, because I think there’s room for theatre to travel in all directions, both at home and abroad. But without viable and consistent American participation in the burgeoning world of theatre on screen, we run the risk of failing to build both individual brands and our national theatre brand, of having our work diminished as other theatre proliferates in our backyards, while ours remains contained within the same four walls that have always been its boundaries and its limitations.  Somebody needs to start removing the obstacles, or we’re going to be left behind.

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.

If supply and demand is a fundamental tenet of economics, then the tweet offer last summer from New York’s Soho Rep, during its sold-out run of Uncle Vanya, made no sense – “99¢ Sunday performance tonight at 7.30pm”. Why would it undermine something so desired as a seat to this show? Why wasn’t the price for this heretofore unavailable cache of seats $299.99?

As explained on its website: “Soho Rep is thrilled to offer 99¢ Sundays on selected Sunday performances to make our shows accessible to the widest audiences possible.”

The catch was that one could only buy the tickets, in person, an hour before the show. While admiring the gesture, I had visions of hundreds of people showing up and most being disappointed, because Soho Rep seats only 75.

Certainly one could look at this offer and think it is great value. That is true for those who were able to buy a seat. For those who were turned away, it was a disappointment and loss of time. And time, to use another basic economic tenet, is money. These days, however, the cost-value equation in theatre is vastly more complicated than ever before. As price has become fluid, it is hard to determine where true value lies.

When people wait in line, sometimes overnight, for the Public Theater’s free Shakespeare in Central Park, the ticket they get is indeed gratis. But if seven or eight hours sleeping among strangers outdoors results in attendance at a disappointing show, which can happen, then there was a high cost for little value (or, with a great show, a cashless bargain), calculable only by a subjective assessment of the worth of each individual’s time (although the overnight experience is its own type of participatory theatre).

While the time commitment necessary for acquiring tickets for Shakespeare in the Park is likely much greater than that required for 99¢ Sunday at Soho Rep (unless one is lucky enough to secure a ticket through the ‘virtual line’ online), the odds are also more favourable, since the open-air Delacorte seats some 2,000 per performance and every single performance is free, although the commitment to acquire a ticket carries risk through the final curtain – should it begin to rain ten minutes into the performance, the show may have to stop and all value is lost.

To go to the opposite end of the spectrum, take Book of Mormon, arguably the hottest ticket on Broadway. The least expensive ticket is priced at $69, but if you can secure one, it may well be for a performance months away. If you do not want to wait so long, you can, if you can afford it, buy a VIP seat for up to $500. This is a pure case of supply and demand, but it is not new. Eleven years ago, The Producers began offering premium seating at $488 per ticket. There were, then as now, various expressions of dismay, but desire trumps thrift.

Some might argue that the scarcity and cost of Mormon serves to make the experience even more valuable, as price can be an expression of worth. Having seen the show becomes a status symbol. In a unique move, perhaps an effort to diffuse frustration on the part of thwarted or economically constrained would-be ticket buyers, Mormon periodically holds ‘fan appreciation day’ performances, distributing tickets for free, akin to the Shakespeare in the Park model.

What falls between these scenarios? Rush tickets, sold on the day of the show or shortly before curtain, have been common in regional theatre fordecades. Somewhat newer ‘pay what you can’ performances are offered by some companies at early previews. Broadway shows have adopted the ‘ticket lottery’ model, holding back front-row seats at young-skewing shows such as Wicked or American Idiot, available at low price through a raffle two hours prior to curtain. In most of these cases, access to the theatre itself is essential. Every instance carries risk (will you get a ticket?), personal cost (time and effort) and value (cheap tickets).

In the UK, the Barclays Front Row scheme at the Donmar Warehouse is a lottery-rush hybrid, guaranteeing 42 low-priced seats at each performance, sold Monday mornings for the coming week (with a website clock counting down to the moment of release).

Discounting is rife on Broadway. All but the biggest hits usually have discount offers, sometimes as much as 40% off the declared value, that can be uncovered with an internet search, or in your mailbox if you are a regular theatregoer. Discounts not only allow, but also encourage, advance sales, with no great time investment. Producers trade savings for guaranteed money in the till.

The TKTS booth in Times Square may yield a 50% off price, only day-ofshow and it requires your time and presence, as lines can be long and subject buyers to the vagaries of weather (in contrast to the Leicester Square booth in London, where I have never waited more than five minutes). Both the UK and US TKTS booths have partially reduced potential disappointment by listing available shows online or by mobile app. The actual discount can be variable.

In another iteration of price/value matrix for theatre tickets, dynamic pricing seems the most clear-cut exemplar of supply and demand. I say ‘seems’ because those who employ such systems, in which prices shift according to popularity, tend only to shift prices upward opportunistically, such as increases during holiday weeks, or as a limited run approaches capacity. Price reductions are not usually found at the box office. Price charts in Broadway theatres are now all displayed on video monitors, the easier to alter as needed. Dynamic pricing is not employed only by commercial productions – subsidized theatres use it as well, raising for some the question of whether not-for-profit theatres are now pursuing profits, or simply maximising their income to support ongoing artistic and community efforts.

There is one more model of the theatrical price-value challenge, seen in the £12 Travelex season at the National Theatre in London and the $25 price for all seats, thanks to Time Warner, at New York’s Signature Theatre. These both offer great value at a most reasonable cost, as both are exceptional companies. The sponsors that make such programmes possible, as well as the theatre staff who secure the funds, are to be applauded. But with the stated goal of making theatre accessible to everyone, it is interesting to consider what both the short-term and long-term implications will be. When top-notch theatre is offered at an artificially low price, does it make the challenge of selling tickets for every competing organization that much more difficult? Could these prices simply be providing those who can afford market price a discount they never sought? Will patrons forgo comparable theatre devoid of subsidy?

In the jungle of discounts and rising costs, we have to look at the National, Donmar and Signature efforts, and others like them, as the start of admirable and essential long-term experiments. Since low-priced tickets are not being offered simply to fill houses, but to make tickets more generally accessible, they are bellwethers that can tell us if price is indeed a barrier to theatre attendance, and if, by removing that impediment, theatre can draw in new and younger audiences.

Signature’s can only be studied at some point in the future, as every ticket is low-priced, flat rate and subsidised for years to come. The National reports that annually, 22% of the Travelex tickets are sold to first time attendees. The very early weeks of the Donmar plan shows some 40% of the Front Row seats going to patrons new to their customer rolls.

As the means of selling and acquiring tickets mirror conventional marketplace practices, while at the same time initiatives rise up to spur sales to more demographically and economically differentiated audiences, the matrix of price and value becomes ever more complex. For producers, there is flexibility to adapt as never before. For patrons, the price points can become advantageous or prohibitive. Hopefully, in this new and perpetually evolving world, theatregoing will not be predicated and expanded solely on the cheapest access possible, but on the fundamental and incalculable premise of the art of the theatre itself having meaning for those who seek to attend.

In the days before I married, in the days before the advent of mp3s and i-devices, the soundtrack of my life was provided by the radio. Primarily listened to while driving, I had an elaborate series of preset stations for my eclectic tastes, geographically diverse enough to allow me to travel between Philadelphia and Boston without searching for stations. Yet, in the wake of each romantic breakup, they all seemed to be a single station programmed specifically to torment me. Every time a relationship ended, popular music seemed a conspiracy – every song was either about the desire for love, the thrill of current love or the desperation of lost love. Who, I wondered, were these sadists?

Of course, the programming was the same it had always been. What had changed was my perception of it. Bereft, expressions of love were taunts; plaints of longing or loss egged me deeper into despair. “Sylvia’s Mother” could reduce me to tears. It wasn’t good.

This effect is true in every aspect of our lives, since we are emotional creatures and view everything, especially art and entertainment, subjectively, not objectively, no matter how hard we might try. For all the talk about how theatre is different every night because of the interplay between actors and audiences, the real difference is found in what each member of the audience brings with them to the theatre: a rough day at the office, a misbehaving child, an undigested bit of beef. Theatres work very hard to create an optimal situation (excepting, for some reason, leg room) for the consumption of dramatic work, but they cannot know or in any way control the many experiences which each member of the audience brings to bear on the event.

Arthur Sherman, 1974

I share all of this by way of prologue, because the effect of the day to day on theatergoing has been much on my mind for the past few weeks. Why that time period? Because three and a half weeks ago, my elderly father fell and sustained a traumatic brain injury (believe it or not, this had happened once before, just a year earlier, and he came back from it beautifully). As a result, I have been spending roughly every other day waking early, departing New York for the hospital in New Haven at about 6:45 am, arriving by 9 to speak with the attending physician during rounds, and heading back to New York by noon. Then I nap and, given the time of year, see a show in the evening.

Why did I keep up my theatergoing? Simply because that is what I do. I wanted to retain a sense of normalcy. My father had been seriously ill many times in my life, and always survived. I needed to do all that I could do for him, but for me, the less I broke my patterns, the better.

So the question is whether my response to the theatre I’ve seen in the past three weeks would have been different if my father had not been ill, if my days had been less complicated. Of course, I will never know. I have, to be sure, laughed in the theatre these past three weeks; I have not once cried. I have experienced joy; I have been dismayed and feel quite certain that I will never, willingly, see some of those shows again.

I also did something unprecedented: I walked out of a show mid-act. Was my anger and impatience at the story played out before me a true aesthetic appraisal, or did this show somehow become the repository of my concerns for my hospital-bound father? I really can’t say. I might have merely been exercising my own natural taste, since the kind usher who showed to me a door where my departure would be least disruptive tried to persuade me to stay. “It gets better,” she whispered, suggesting that perhaps others had made this mid-show journey. “Not for me,” I replied.

Was it fair for me to keep seeing shows at a time when so much was weighing on my mind? Perhaps, for the artists and my relationship to their work, it was not. But I was not about to sit home, passively watching TV. I was going to do, to the best of my ability, what I always do, which is go to the theatre. After all, the tickets were arranged, I couldn’t spend every minute with my father and even if I did there was little I could do for him. For me, keeping up the familiar seemed wisest. If I didn’t enjoy shows fully, if I can never enjoy those shows in the future because of those first impressions and associations, that is my loss and my error. But I have also been suffering from severe neck and shoulder pain for quite some time, recently diagnosed as bulging and herniated discs, so that has also influenced how I have perceived theatre over several years. I may have not given certain shows the fairest seeing because of physical pain, just as the emotional impact of my father’s injury may have clouded my responses more recently. My thoughts, my physical condition have always colored my theatergoing, so even at a time of extreme stress, I never really thought to stop.

As I write, it is four days since my father died and two days since his funeral. I was at a show only hours before he passed and I will return to the theatre, for a comedy, in two days time, with at least two more shows on tap in the following four days. I will carry memory of him as the lights go down, just as I carry with me the memory of others I have lost in all that I do. But because my dad was not much of a theatregoer, the environment will not specifically evoke him (though the play, or future plays, might). The interior of a theatre will instead signal to me that despite a loss, life goes on; after all, between vocation and avocation, I have spent so much of my life in theatres, they are familiar, comforting places for me to be, my refuge, my sanctuary.  I will always carry in delight and despair, happiness and worry, and countless other feelings. And the theatre may well give feelings back to me, intentionally or otherwise. But that, as it always has, depends on me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If you stand on Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, at the corner of either 44^th or 45^th Streets, and look west, you see the iconic image of brightly illuminated Broadway marquees lining both sides of the street. 14 of Broadway’s 40 houses are in view on two streets.

If you stand on the corner of 42^nd Street and Ninth Avenue looking west, you may see only a few glints of light off of display windows or subtle marquees, but there are 11 theatres in the next block: Theatre Row (with five stages), Playwrights Horizons (two stages), the Little Shubert and the newly opened Signature Center (with three). Extend your gaze almost to Eleventh Avenue and make it an even dozen, by adding in Signature’s former home.

There’s no comparison in scale or capacity between the Broadway stages on 44^th and 45^th Streets and the Off-Broadway venues that line this stretch of 42^nd Street, where the largest theatre is 499 seats and the average is probably half that. But there’s no arguing that the range of theatrical production on 42^nd Street is at least as vital creatively, especially when you consider that the Broadway theatres may be home to long running shows, while the turnover at the smaller venues will yield many more new productions annually, even if they do play to a fraction of the Broadway audience.

The emergence of West 42^nd Street is emblematic of a growth spurt among New York’s subsidized companies, and it’s not restricted to 42^nd Street; there’s other recent or planned theatrical renovation and construction going on elsewhere. In The New York Times, Charles Isherwood took note of this expansion, expressing concern that companies might be driven by a need to fill this real estate in contravention of their artistic goals or capacities; he also commented shows’ journeys from these intimate spaces to Broadway, which he sometimes finds ill-advised.

I won’t weigh in on whether certain shows should – or shouldn’t have – transferred to Broadway’s commercial arena, but I will say that such a decision is rooted in one of the most significant conundrums in New York’s theatrical ecosystem: the diminished viability of commercial Off-Broadway production of new plays and musicals. While there are long-running entertainments in New York’s smaller commercial venues (Stomp, Blue Man Group, De La Guarda) and there have been some other hits (I Love You, You’re Perfect, Now Change; Love, Loss and What I Wore), plays like Freud’s Last Session and the just opened Tribes are relative rarities. Off-Broadway is even now home to one-time Broadway successes (Million Dollar Quartet, Rent and Avenue Q) sustaining their New York lives through reduced expectations.

But when it comes to a Off-Broadway success from a non-commercial company, the only option today seems to be Broadway or bust, as the cost of producing sustained runs in these small venues under a commercial contract proves impossible for most serious-minded fare (or even intelligent comedies) because of many factors, from the limited revenue to the high cost of advertising on a small budget. This is markedly different from 15 or 20 years ago, when the work of companies like Playwrights Horizons and Manhattan Theatre Club would transfer regularly to commercial engagements. A mainstay of Off-Broadway in the 80s and 90s, playwright A.R. Gurney, used to see his shows transfer from a non-profit to commercial run almost annually; now his plays, no matter the reception, get a six-week run at Lincoln Center Theatre, Primary Stages or The Flea and are over. He’s joined by most playwrights in this limiting atmosphere. Even when long-running Off-Broadway hits from the past are revived, they go to Broadway, as recently evidenced by Driving Miss Daisy and Wit.

The great irony is that the New York productions become loss leaders, garnering press attention and respect, but achieving larger audiences and multiple productions in the country’s regional theatres, where they generate healthier royalties for playwrights. Nowhere is that more evident than with Clybourne Park which, after a couple of months at Playwrights Horizons, went on to regional runs in Los Angeles, Chicago, Washington DC and almost every U.S. major city (as well as London) before finally coming to rest after copious acclaim, at last, on Broadway.

The Off-Broadway building boom is a boon to theatre both in New York and beyond. But to benefit more theatergoers here, the challenge is to restore a healthy middleground between Off-Broadway not-for-profit runs and Broadway berths, so that work can stay at its proper scale, achieve a modicum of financial success and stick around for as long as people want to see it, while always making room for yet more new work. It’s a puzzle, but one worth solving.