I’ve just returned from the Stratford Shakespeare Festival in Canada. We traveled up there to meet a long-time colleague and artistic collaborator who goes to the festival every first week in August. He had been asking me to go up for a number of years now, and I finally had the time to take him up on the standing offer.
It was a pleasant enough weekend. We did not see shows together due to conflicting schedules, but we had dinner together two nights in a row. The weather was mostly cooperative. We saw wonderful productions of H.M.S. Pinafore and Guys and Dolls, good productions of The Bacchae and The Changeling, and a rather unsatisfactory production of Tartuffe. And yet, by the conclusion of the weekend, a vague feeling that I’ve been having about theatre seemed to become more concrete. I was uncomfortable for most of the trip, as if I were in a foreign country (well, I was in Canada, but that’s not precisely foreign). I found myself surrounded mostly by highly educated, well-off white people, and that unsettled me. By the end of the weekend, I had come to a pretty firm decision — it’s time for me to give up theatre as an active part of my life.
In many ways this is a difficult notion with which to come to grips, as I have been actively doing theatre since I was about 8 years old in one form or another. My path to the theatre was in some ways unintentional, but nonetheless it has formed a very large part of who I am and has taken up a great deal of my time over the years. Everyone who knows me knows me as a professional theatre performer. I don’t have many skills beyond creating theatre. People continually ask me if I’m going to pursue more acting and directing opportunities now that I’ve retired from teaching acting and directing for 35 years. Giving up theatre means more than simply giving up an activity — it means giving up an identity.
My reasons for giving up theatre lie primarily in the fact that theatre, as I have come to know and love it, has changed, and I have not kept up with those changes. Nor do I see those changes as beneficial. I do not accuse theatre of “being wrong” for changing, nor do I intend to rail and fight against these changes. An art form reflects its times, and in many ways the changes in theatre are a reflection of changing times. I am just not prepared emotionally or psychologically to move with these changes, and so it’s best, I think, just to step out of the way.
Of course, I have a number of reasons why I am doing this. Many of them are interrelated. I’ve broken them down as follows:
Cultural irrelevancy — Theatre is now a niche art form that has no significant relevancy to the culture at large. Its only use to society is as another form of entertainment. While I have nothing specifically against entertainment, I did not get into the art form simply to entertain. I got into the art form to help enlighten the culture and to help people get a better understanding of themselves and the society in which they live; in other words, to “hold the mirror up to nature,” let society see itself, and perhaps, in the process, improve. This is not what is happening. The National Endowment for the Arts has been tracking public participation in the arts since 1982, and despite all the glowing reports concerning record-breaking attendances at Broadway shows, the decline as documented by the NEA is steep. In 2002, the percentage of US adults attending one musical over a 12-month period was 17.1%. By 2012, the last year for which data exists, the percentage was 15.2%. For non-musical plays, the percentages for the same years went from 12.3% to 8.3%. I should note that “attending one event” could be anything from a high school musical to a Broadway show. These kinds of declines hold true for almost all of the arts. Americans simply do not care much about attending live arts events. There is no general audience to engage.
The Echo Chamber Effect — As a niche product, theatre now appeals primarily to a niche audience composed primarily of upper-middle-class, white, female, older people. This demographic primarily holds liberal views; most would have voted for Hilary Clinton in the last US presidential election. Because of this demographic, theatre creators now tailor their work to this demographic; indeed, many of them come from it. For all the push for diversity in the theatre, the one area where there is no concerted push is ideological. Whether it be that conservatives simply don’t like theatre, or don’t view theatre as welcoming to them or their ideologies, the fact is that there are almost no conservative points of view to be found in American theatre. You would not be able to find a play that was pro-life being performed at any theatre in the country, even under the premise that all points of view should have the opportunity for theatrical expression. I would love for theatre to be able to engage Trump voters as well as Hilary voters, as I think theatre offers a way for Trump voters to tell their story, and I’d like to go see and hear their stories. As a side note, it’s interesting that Lynn Nottage’s Sweat, which featured Trump-voting characters, managed only 105 performances at Studio 54 despite winning three Tony nominations and the 2017 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Even a play as artistically celebrated as this could not find an audience to keep it running.
Lack of audience diversity — As much progress as theatre is making and trying to make in diversifying its creative artists, it’s making no headway at all in diversifying its audience. The audiences for all the shows I saw at Stratford were overwhelmingly white and old (full disclosure: I am 65, half Irish, half Hispanic, a retired college professor. I fit right into this demographic). We paid about $US770.00 for 10 tickets to five shows, sitting in the cheaper seats as available. Stratford’s attempts at diversifying its acting companies is laudable, but apparently that’s having no effect on diversifying its audience. One might observe that the cost of attending theatre is a notable barrier, but I also notice this same situation at a theatre I have spent much time at both as performance and audience member — Shakespeare in Delaware Park in Buffalo NY. Despite being outdoors and absolutely free to attend (the hat is passed at intermission), the audience is still composed of predominantly white, upper-middle-class, older people. It’s been around for 41 years, which negates the idea that it might be obscure. I guess I’m just sort of tired of playing constantly to these same people.
Identity Politics — The struggles in theatre today center a great deal around identity politics. Plays today are written more about causes and less about characters. I’ve always believed that theatre should deal with universal truths situated in particular circumstances, rather than the politics of the moment. And I’ve always felt that theatre should embrace all points of view, not just those of a select few. When I go to the theatre today, I can’t help but feel I’m in the company of the select few, particularly the select few who can afford it, and that makes me feel uncomfortable.
I’ve other specific reasons, but I think I can best sum it up by saying that I know longer really see the point of continuing to do or attend theatre. Nor do I think the theatre wants my talents or viewpoints any longer; they’re too old-fashioned. I see too many issues with theatre that I think are making it more and more irrelevant by the year, and I don’t have time anymore to work to make it more relevant. At this point in history, theatre is a niche art form for a certain small demographic, and while I fit that demographic, I don’t feel a part of its value structure. So I think it’s best for me to walk away.
Why do I say I am “mostly” giving up theatre? Well, I would like to leave the door open to the possibility of someday doing theatre that would and does make a difference, and that speaks to a different demographic. And being honest, there are certain roles that, if someone gave me a chance to play them, I’d do so, for no other reason than my own self-satisfaction. If those opportunities came my way, perhaps I’d take them, but I have little intention of seeking them.
One of the things I have always taught in my acting classes is the importance of letting things go. You can’t move on to the new until you let go of the old, of what’s past. For me at this point in my life, theatre is mostly the past. I may not know what’s in front of me that’s new, but I am pretty sure I won’t be prepared to meet it if I continue to hold on to my life in the theatre. It’s not you, theatre — it’s me. Time to let go. -twl