“Upon paying for admission and entering a theater, I, the theatre activist, recognize my monetary transaction as a contract for collaboration – not the price of a nap. I expect of the performers, and I expect of myself full attention, efficient use of time, and the physical and mental labor necessary to create this individual and unreplicate piece of art.”
The common reputation of the theatre precedes it unfavorably. The general public understands it to be a tired form of art. And yet the standards to which it is compared are unfair. Theatre should never be cinematic. Cinema serves a fine purpose, but at its base level is a recorded art form, unalterable by its patrons until after the credits roll. Walking out of a film does not change the performers’, directors’ or technicians’ recorded work. It is a document; an artifact. Theatre is not. A performance only exists for one night and is alterable by the true theatre activist.
Having been disappointed greatly by the level of commitment I see in young theatre activists, let me explain in common terms: theatre is an art that is as dynamic as we are. It has moods. It can be sleepy, over-caffeinated, horny or a myriad other things. A performer looks to the theatre activist for guidance. A performer has a need to relate a story and to have an audience understand their character. To have neglected your audience is the most brash and conceited crime a performer can commit. And yet, realize that to a performer, an audience of faces bathed in blue light – the clicking of thumbs on plastic screens, each a pinprick in the majestic breath of silence – is not only deterring them from participating with an audience, but fatal to their spirit as artists.
Nic Adams
March 9, 2009