I contemplated titling this piece “On The Objectification of Theatre Artists,” but decided against it for two primary reasons. First, because it is not my graduate thesis, and second, because people might choose to approach it more seriously than it perhaps deserves.  I will say that I do not fundamentally support the idolization of men or women for their physical appearance, however as one who works in entertainment (with a particular background in marketing and public relations), I know that for all of the enlightenment our society has achieved over the years, we are still drawn in by attractiveness — it is both celebrated and idealized throughout the media. Lecture over.

Among the deluge of tweets, updates and posts I see every day, I have been amused, and at times startled, by the comments of two young women who communicate under the unified nom de plume of The Craptacular. They are avid theatergoers, but they express their enthusiasm most emphatically when they see what I can only refer to as “a hot guy”; they deploy much more colorful expressions, I assure you. I find their slang rhapsodizing over a variety of stage heartthrobs distinctive because, for the most part, what I see otherwise are die-hard fans debating the artistic skills of various performers, say comparing and contrasting various divas (including some long dead), rather than ever speaking of earthier appeals.  Save for the ad campaign for Chicago, which has long celebrated the forms and figures of the countless performers who have done that show, I rarely see Broadway, or any theatrical production, for that matter, relying on something that we have been told, ever since the Mad Men era, is a surefire marketing tool: sex.

This certainly contrasts with the movies, which in so many cases are all about appearance. For decades, people have become screen stars based first and foremost on their physical attributes. In film and television, the emphasis on attractiveness can be a curse (I should be so stricken): actors like George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Michelle Pfeiffer and Angelina Jolie and many others have had to work extra-hard to prove that they are more than just pretty faces and bodies. But in the theatre, talent almost without fail comes first; attractiveness is sometimes the bonus. I generalize, of course, but you get the idea.

That’s why I think the women at The Craptacular are on to something (I so want to call them gals, but I’m walking on eggshells here). Maybe theatre shouldn’t be afraid of flaunting it now and again, especially if we genuinely seek to be part of the mainstream of entertainment and not relegated to the backwater known as “the arts.” The fact is, whether you are male or female, gay or straight, theatre is not just a feast for your mind and your ears, but for your eyes as well. In theatre, talent can make the unconventional unexpectedly attractive, just as it endows more conventional beauty with more depth than your average movie ingénue.

There have been a few occasions when theatre folks, usually because of their work in other mediums, have drifted into the range of media that emphasize physical appeal. I recall Kristin Chenoweth’s FHM appearance and Laura Benanti’s Playboy showcase in particular, because a) I know both women and b) I never believed I’d ever know women who appeared on the covers of those sorts of magazines.  I suspect theatre-centric actors have similarly graced female-oriented publications, but my gaze tends not to linger on that part of the newsstand; I leave it to you to recall examples that support me. Kristin and Laura may not have been chosen for these platforms primarily because of their remarkable skills as performers, but once they are put upon a pedestal, they reflect the spotlight back on the stage.

Jerry Mitchell tapped into the sex and Broadway link years ago when he created “Broadway Bares” for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS; he took an underused asset – the sexiness of so many performers – and put it to great use, raising money for an essential cause. It has become a tradition within the community; it’s frankly a shame that the annual extravaganza can’t last for more than a handful of shows and reach more of the general public, harking back to The Ziegfeld Follies, yet conceived for the age of Maxim. Certainly if Ben Brantley is to be believed, the runaway success of Hugh Jackman’s recent Broadway stand had less to do with the guy’s overwhelming talent and charm and more with his status as a figure in countless sexual fantasies.

I’m not proposing that theatre aspire to burlesque (even as that particular form of entertainment makes a comeback). All I’m suggesting is that in our relentless effort to court those attuned to higher aspirations of art and talent, we may be burying a valuable asset that was once unashamedly part of theatre’s fabric. Theatre is where the devil’s assistant Lola gets what she wants through “feminine wiles”, where Adelaide endlessly fronts a girlie show until she can settle down into domestic bliss, where Gypsy emerges from the chrysalis of Louise Hovick – and where the women who play those roles become stars. As I ponder this, I regret that the male characters who are physical ideals are all comic figures, villains or both: Miles Gloriosus, Gaston, even Kodaly. What’s up with that? Maybe some form of envy by their creators?

Sex sells, sexiness sells, beauty sells and theatre’s got all of that. Just as Las Vegas learned a lesson when it tried to rebrand itself as a family friendly destination, maybe theatre, and Broadway in particular, needs a makeover, needs to rough up its image, needs more leather and lace — just like Sandy at the end of the movie Grease.

I have just used Google News to see how many times the odd little word ‘snub’ has been used in the past 24 hours. I came up with 2,020 articles that fit the bill (I wish I’d checked a week earlier as well, for comparison; this number will surely grow for several more hours). The articles are, based on my cursory review, almost all about the Oscars. If I were to read each of these articles, I am fairly certain they would annoy me equally in their use of this word. I believe this vocabulary choice would hold true for radio and TV coverage as well.

I have a particular disdain of ‘snub.’ My antipathy to it was honed to a fine point during my eight-year tenure as executive director of the American Theatre Wing, where my responsibilities included shared oversight of The Tony Awards. Every May and June, I was deluged with press clippings about the awards and, just as with the Oscars (and the Grammys, and the Emmys, and the Globes, and, and, and), ‘snub’ would appear with startling regularity in press coverage of every possible stripe, from before nominations until after the awards were handed out. I took it pretty personally, because while I was not a Tony nominator and only one voter among hundreds, I was one of the public faces of the Tonys. I was uncomfortable with the fact that a process meant to honor people was being subverted into one in which people were supposedly being rebuffed or insulted, as ‘snub’ implies. In some cases, friends of mine were among the ostensibly snubbed.

‘Snub’ does not mean simply to leave out, as some might have it. Let me quote two dictionaries on the word, as both my beloved Reader’s Digest Great Encyclopedic Dictionary and Dictionary.com offer the same definition: “1. To treat with contempt or disdain, especially by ignoring; slight. 2. To rebuke or check with a cutting remark.” It is, first, a verb; it can also be a noun, but there is foremost an action indicated. When you snub, it is with hurtful intent.

Now we can all list the many flaws we might find in awards processes, and surely none is perfect; you may even wish to rail against their existence. But for the purpose of this post, please accept them as a given, since I am not examining awards themselves today, but how this particular word has become so insidiously ingrained in discourse about them.

To my knowledge, all cultural awards are affirmative, in the sense that at each level, there is a process of selecting the top or best examples of the category or genre being awarded. There is no organized effort to explicitly blackball anyone or anything; by dint of rules which limit nominees and winners to certain numbers, not all in contention can pass each threshold (this is not nursery school where everyone gets a ribbon for showing up). But at no time does any group, like grown-up versions of high school jocks or mean girls, develop a consensus about who to exclude or berate. The process is about favorites to be sure; even the Golden Raspberry Awards choose films that are the best exemplars of bad films; they don’t, I suspect, spend time saying, “The Descendants? Nah, it’s a bad example of a bad film, so it’s out.”

Consequently, why is ‘snub’ so prevalent? I believe it’s because in both popular and high culture, feuds and insults are infinitely more interesting to report on than praise and achievement. We have long heard that local news broadcasts tend towards the “if it bleeds, it leads” strategy; when it comes to reporting on awards and prizes, the operant methodology appears to be, “those who lose are news.” Awards prognostication is almost its own industry, and so those who cover this aspect of the entertainment world opt to hyperbolize their reportage in order to add to the drama, essentially creating conflict for a better story. Select current examples: in The New York Times’ main story on this year’s Oscar nominations, ‘snub’ appears four times, and a separate story on their Carpetbagger blog has it in a headline.  The Hollywood Reporter headlined, “Oscar Snubs for Michael Fassbender and Tilda Swinton Spark British Frenzy” (was there rioting?). Hollywood news maven Nikki Finke headlined an article, “OSCARS – Who Got Snubbed By The Academy.” Snub is the go-to weapon of choice and it was deployed in every direction, seemingly by reporters firing on automatic.

I can’t possibly think that my little blog post is going to change the ingrained habits of the cultural media. But if you’re reading this, I urge you when you consume information about awards, substitute the correct words in place of snub: “left out,” “didn’t make the cut,” “missed their chance.” They are perhaps only marginally less negative about those who aren’t nominees or winners, but they are facts, not commentary (or representative of invented affronts). Don’t buy in to the not-so-subtle sense of insult that is deployed so often around awards, not because the awards are so pristine or perfect, but because the people who give awards aren’t doing it to demean people in the fields they recognize, only to elevate and reward through whatever means they have.

Am I naive? No. I just wish the press would do better. I was a kid who grew up being picked last at recess, eventually finding comfort, affirmation and purpose through performance. I’d like to think that those who entertain us (and those who follow their careers) shouldn’t have salt rubbed in their psychic wounds, in public, when they – fairly or unfairly – aren’t picked for the all-star team.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 22 at 4 PM

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

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

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

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

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

Session One: Turning from Past and Present Toward the Future

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

Session Two: Picture If You Will…

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

Session Three: Over the Horizon

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

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

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

MONDAY JANUARY 23 10:10 AM

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

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

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

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

MONDAY JANUARY 23 11:50 AM

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

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

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

12:05 PM

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

12:10 PM

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

12:12 PM

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

12:20 PM

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

12:22 PM

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

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

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

12:42 PM

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

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

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

1:01 PM

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

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

2:30 PM

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

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

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

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

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

2:50 PM

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

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

3:00 PM

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

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

3:20 PM

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

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

3:40 PM

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

4:10 PM

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

4:20 PM

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

4:45 PM

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

5:00 PM

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

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

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

5:20 PM

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

While I am given to pontificating, I generally avoid prognosticating. However, I am prepared to make a prediction. I suspect many of you will agree with me. Here goes: I don’t think, at whatever point in the distant future it is released for stock and amateur stagings, that The Book of Mormon will see many high school productions. It may do quite well at the college level, but high school? Nope.

The reason is obvious (to me). Namely, that Mormon’s liberal use of profanity is unlikely to be acceptable in an high school setting unless commonly accepted public discourse devolves rapidly in the decades to come. Even with significant rewrites, it’s highly unlikely that “the best musical of this century” (to quote Ben Brantley of the Times) will be part of the school repertoire. ‘So what?,’ you ask. ‘It will have made a pile of money, and while that market is lucrative, it’s not about to make or break the show’s extraordinary success.’ True, and I cite Mormon primarily for the evident absurdity of the fundamental question.

Why do I even bring this up? Because having seen every new musical on Broadway for the past eight years, I find myself musing on the shows I did in high school, the shows being done in schools today and what may be done in the future. Guess what? Some of the most popular high school shows today are shows I did: Bye Bye Birdie, You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown and The Music Man. Others date back to that time (and before), but weren’t done by my school: Grease, Guys and Dolls and Once Upon a Mattress. This is not to say that newer shows aren’t popular: Seussical, Beauty and the Beast, Thoroughly Modern Millie and Hairspray regularly rank among the 10 most produced high school musicals, but the presence and persistence of 50 and 60 year old shows is noteworthy. (For data, I am relying on the annual survey by the Educational Theatre Association, parent of the International Thespian Society, since some of the licensing houses do not release rankings or specific numbers for comparison of the shows they represent.)

Some of you might be encouraged by the fact that there aren’t a lot of newer musicals on the list. ‘Musicals have become more challenging,’ you might say; ‘isn’t it wonderful that pieces like Grey Gardens and The Light in the Piazza have been given life and who would want to see them performed by 16-year-olds’? On one level, I agree. The expansion of the range of musical theatre beyond “musical comedy” is essential and it does not allow for every major musical hit to be right for high schools, the way Fiddler on the Roof and The Pajama Game once were.

Even today’s shows closest to classic musical comedies would have to be adjusted for high school productions, if the authors permit it. Should a teenaged girl be encouraged to sing “If You’ve Got It, Flaunt It,” to fellow students and parents? Would teens get the satire of, “You won’t succeed on Broadway if you don’t have any Jews”? Shows with casts made up predominantly of young people, like Spring Awakening and American Idiot, are too challenging in their content for all but the most open-minded schools, so a youthful cast does not denote that the show is therefore “age-appropriate.”

I am no prude (although I told my then 16-year-old niece, when asked, that her mother needed to take her to see Spring Awakening during its Broadway run; I would have been too uncomfortable). But the fact is that schools, fearing parental and community backlash, are forced to protect themselves and that sends them running for the cover of The Wizard of Oz (another high school perennial, believe it or not). They cannot afford to offend and there are copious sensitivities: earlier this year a Pennsylvania high school had to cancel a production of Kismet due to its favorable portrayal of Muslim characters. The list of popular plays, by the way, proves even more cautious and antique, with Our Town and The Crucible (admittedly great plays), as well as You Can’t Take It With You and Arsenic and Old Lace in the Top 10 for each of the past three years; I wrote a year ago of a school that was almost prevented from doing a play by August Wilson.

Political and social pressures narrow the field of what can be done in high schools today. Is that the sole reason why hit musicals and musicals that teens can perform are diverging?

As I acknowledge, there’s the expansion of the “musical” umbrella, which benefits artists and audiences alike, so it’s counterproductive to the art form to argue against that material. But there is the incursion of profanity and sexual content in certain cases on what are, essentially, stories with classic structure and messages (Avenue Q, anyone? “My Unfortunate Erection” from Spelling Bee?). Has high-profile musical theatre become like network television, pushing the boundaries to keep up with, or mimic, what’s available on pay cable or at the movies? Will that create an ever-increasing gap between our most popular musicals and what young people can undertake?

Subject and language are not the only barriers (and I should acknowledge that artists and licensing houses often prepare “school versions” so as not to miss this market, but some shows may be rendered impotent by cuts). We also face the musicals which are so bent on spectacle that they limit what many high schools can tackle; while stripping down certain shows may reveal their core strengths in some cases (I would love to see a simple Lion King or less opulent Miss Saigon), there are also shows which demand spectacle (say the magic tricks required for the upcoming Ghost or the necessity of sending carts and people flying as Titanic sinks), not so easy in these days of constrained arts budgets. Conversely, another barrier is the reduction in cast sizes in new shows (even as tech requirements may grow elsewhere); musicals like Side Show or Little Women will only appeal to small schools, or those with weak drama programs, since most high schools want big shows for the greatest inclusion of the student body.

A rare effort to craft a musical for all ages, but uniquely suited for junior high audiences, actors and musicians, Jason Robert Brown’s 13, had a short life on Broadway (I hope it lives forever in middle schools). Maybe building musicals that anticipate their future academic life isn’t economically feasible in the commercial marketplace. I think it’s not entirely a coincidence that the musicals of Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty are popular (if not always top 10) high school shows; there is a common thread of humanity and warmth that runs through Once on This Island, Seussical and Ragtime (not to mention sufficiently large cast sizes and gender and racial flexibility and opportunities). But they didn’t set out to write “high school musicals.”

I fear I’m coming off like an old man, yet I’m arguing for today’s teens to be able to explore their talent in new material by our best current musical theatre artists, not limiting them to the same chestnuts that I appeared in more than 30 years ago (even though the legacy of great musicals has real value). The question is whether the material is drying up, and whether we can do something about generating new musicals which are not bland, silly, homogenized works devised solely for school productions,  but are challenging and entertaining both in words and music, so that “family musical” need not be a euphemism for “children’s theatre” and the repertoire can benefit at both the professional and educational level. I don’t doubt that there are progressive, enlightened and adventurous high school drama programs out there, just not enough to tip the survey balance.

I have often said that there is a theatrical continuum that runs from Broadway right through to schools; fundamentally, the process of putting on a show at any level is the same, with money and experience being the key points of difference. I worry that this through-line is being lost and that unless producers and artists think about future talent and future audiences, we will be conditioning the next generation to desire and demand less on our stages, rather than more. After all, if they are exposed in their youth to only the most populist and/or timeworn musicals, if they play mostly Peanuts and Munchkins, will they ever aspire to, or have an appetite for, something greater?

Update: As a result of writing this post, I learned a great deal more about the high school repertoire, and especially school editions of shows like Avenue Q and Rent, which filter out the language and content that would be most problematic in a school setting, while retaining the core of the shows themselves. Done in collaboration with authors, or their estates, they help to bridge the content gap that concerned me. That said, I still don’t think we’re going to see The Book of Mormon in schools anytime soon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This post originally appeared on the 2amtheatre website.

Alright, I’ve had it and I’m not keeping it to myself anymore.

It seems that not a day goes by that a news item appears one place or another announcing that someone famous is considering/acquiring rights/contemplating/dreaming about creating a Broadway show or being on Broadway. Yesterday it was Kara DioGuardi saying she was thinking about writing a musical. Today it’s the manager of The Eagles saying that they’re exploring creating a musical out of the band’s catalogue. I have little doubt that you can supply your own example of this type of evanescent project with about five seconds of not-so-deep thought.

Perhaps I should be happy about this development. After all, it suggests that well known figures in the entertainment industry see a connection to Broadway as something valuable, a charm they can embrace to legitimize their efforts in other fields. I mention Broadway specifically in this case because I do not hear people saying that they dream of writing a show for their local regional theatre.

Ironically, there are famous people who have done or are doing just that, modestly and earnestly. Jeff Daniels founded his own theatre, The Purple Rose in Michigan, and regularly writes plays for production there, despite his Hollywood fame. Bruce Hornsby wrote a musical called SCKBSTD that premiered at Virginia Stage. The estimable team of Stephen King and John Mellencamp will see their musical Ghost Brothers of Darkland County materialize at The Alliance Theatre this spring. I’m excited about these.

But it’s the unfounded announcements that worry me. Someone goes on a TV show to promote some project or product and suddenly they’re accumulating theatre cred merely for thinking about joining our community. As if that’s not bad enough, their utterance is amplified by the media, who already think putting on a show is about as tough as mounting the high school musical (abetted by Glee, where every rehearsal is pretty  much a polished performance).

There used to be a corollary to this, which a former boss of mine referred to as “producing in the column.” This referred to the practice of less-than-top-line producers announcing projects in hope of making it into the once essential, now long-gone, Friday New York Times theatre column. But many of these productions didn’t yet exist; the producer planted the item to see if people would call expressing interest, and only go forward if their call sheet was sufficiently filled. Back then, the item appeared for a day, and sank out of sight. Today, these items are endlessly repeated, and archived, via the Internet. They spread like a hardy weed, even after they’re abandoned.

I’d like to issue a simple challenge to the media, both theatre-oriented and mass appeal: every time you feel compelled to elevate a musing into a production, you must take the responsibility of checking up on that show at six month intervals. If it comes to pass, terrific, keep on covering it. But when it fades into the woodwork, write something equally as prominent as that very first mention making clear that the project is off, and in many cases, never really was. I’d also add a penance for falling for these largely transparent p.r. stunts: each time you’re gulled, write about a show by a playwright or composer you’ve never written about before, or a theatre company that has never been able to get space from you. And I’m including every outlet that simply regurgitates wire service copy.

You see, there are countless theatres and writers who are actually working at the task of making theatre every day, and they can’t get any attention for their efforts – which exist in the corporeal world. A friend just told me the tale of working at a theatre where the artistic director was nearly in tears of joy over the appearance of a local news crew, for the very first time in memory. But why were they there? Because in the recent storm Irene, a large tree had fallen and blocked entrance to the venue.

I don’t wish to seem harsh to my journalist friends, who likely resent those occasions when they are thusly ill-used. I understand that celebrity sells and that you’re often being pushed, against your own wishes, to report on those who have achieved fame, be it through talent or outrageousness. All I’m asking is that you don’t play into their p.r. machines just because they utter the words “Broadway,” “theatre,” “musical” or “play.” Wait until they write one or are cast in one. Then I don’t really begrudge them the attention. I know what sells. But don’t let these Harold Hills sell you instruments and lessons until they know how to play theselves. Write about the people who are serious about making theatre.

Trust me, there are so many stories to tell.

This post originally appeared on the 2amtheatre website.

Sometime in the 1970s, the once ubiquitous gossip columnist Rona Barrett began reporting box office grosses during her regular appearances on Good Morning America. Prior to that, such statistics were available only to readers of Variety, long the entertainment bible (and perhaps to Hollywood Reporter readers as well, though as a teen I only knew of Variety). What she unleashed was a revolution in entertainment reporting, in which the general public began hearing about weekly grosses for the movies, detailed Nielsen television ratings, volume of record albums (later CDs and later mp3) sold weekly, even the Broadway box office grosses. Across the country, what was once industry information became popular fodder, so much so that the movies manage to get press out of projected box office tallies on Monday, actual receipts on Tuesday and projected receipts on Thursday and/or Friday. Entertainment became about “the numbers.” (Ironically, in this same period, as Variety shrank, Off-Broadway and regional grosses disappeared, even for those in the industry.)

A successor to this awareness came courtesy of Amazon.com, which hourly updates every book’s sales rank, and while the number is based on relative sales and does not reveal the actual count of books sold, it has proven fascinating as well. For authors of newly released books, it’s like crack. Ask anyone you know who’s had a book published. If they don’t admit to checking their Amazon numbers frequently, they’re lying.

But “the numbers” have taken an interesting turn in these burgeoning days of social media. First, it was simply how many friends we have on Facebook (thereby diluting the true meaning of the word ‘friend’ for much of the world), then how many followers we have on Twitter. Most social media platforms provide some comparable measure, and in doing so, set up a competition among users.

We’ve learned just today that the numbers can be gamed, for a while at least: Newt Gingrich’s million Twitter followers turned out to be highly inflated, as the vast majority of them proved to be fictitious accounts created solely to aid those who were collecting numbers across Twitter; others were bots that automatically follow people, often in an effort to get them to click on highly suspect or even dangerous links.

The next step in social media numbers has been the emergence of services that seek to rank users influence in social media across platforms. Klout may be the best known, Peer Index is gaining recognition, and they’re proliferating: Twitsdaq, Twitalyzer, TwentyFeet and Tweetstats are among the many seeking to rank you (and get you to subscribe to their “premium,” paid analytical services). There are also reports that in some industries, employers are beginning to look at these rankings when considering candidates for jobs.

Why do I recount all of this? Because while we may not yet have bar codes tattooed on our arms or the backs of our necks (choose your own dystopian vision) , we are ourselves being reduced to numbers, our worth being determined by our online activity, with little leeway for vacation, illness, or simply the demands of everyday life.

I’m being hyperbolic, I hear you cry. Yes, of course I am. But once out of college and past the arbiter of class rank, we have been judged solely on our achievements. Perhaps those on Wall Street could be judged by earnings, or film stars on their quoted payday per movie, but the people and organizations involved in creating art were judged qualitatively and subjectively, not quantitatively by some unknown algorithm.

I have fallen prey to this insidious practice and its lure of achievement by rank. I am weaning myself from it, although only two weeks ago I took part in a series of e-mails with PeerIndex because I was convinced that their data on me was wrong (in fact, it was, and my ranking has been rapidly rising ever since). I shudder to think that, had I not caught this and some prospective employer decided to check up on me, I’d be viewed as a social media failure. But I’m now controlling the impulse to check my rank on all of these services daily, or to seek new tools of measurement, though I’m not about to forgo them completely (hey, Klout is sending me a $10 coupon because I’m influential enough to sample a sandwich company’s new pulled pork offering).

But I worry about numerical assessments of effectiveness, especially if social media becomes truly ingrained in the national psyche, and it’s certainly well on its way to being lodged there. Having worked in a field where the primary goal is qualitative (read artistic) achievement, albeit with budgetary and audience measures, we may begin to be judged not just on what we put on our stages or produce as individuals, but as influencers or the influenced, those who lead and those who follow.  Now we don’t just hope for a maximum number of stars from a critic for our shows, or the greatest amount of money we can raise, we are being personally quantified, compared and scored.

During my years at the American Theatre Wing, I would often, when discussing The Tony Awards and its peers in film, TV and music, make reference to a fascinating book entitled The Economy of Prestige by James F. English. Boiling the book’s thesis down with utter simplicity, it explores the process of awards-giving for artistic achievement, and how that process will always be imperfect because by comparing, ranking and choosing a “best” among works of art, we are forcing those works out of the creative realm and into the language of the marketplace. So it is with social media ranking.

Klout, PeerIndex and their cohorts now dispassionately judge our organizations and ourselves daily, and their wider acceptance can only diminish our creative achievements. As a longtime fan of science fiction on the page and on film, I see these rankings and I fight against them like so many revolutionaries who fought (will fight?) futuristic totalitarian societies, and I want to shout, “I am a human being. I am a man of the theatre. I am not a number.”

Like all speculative fiction, we’re not going to know for a while what this all means, but maybe we can prevent SkyNet from becoming self-aware, stop the crystal in our palm from turning black, rebel against Big Brother. But it all depends. Are you keeping score?

This post originally appeared on the 2amtheatre website.