Audience
I saw a couple of plays this weekend; two totally different themes, venues, styles and audiences. Of course, the subject matter and performances of the plays interest me, but recently, at times, I've found myself engrossed by the audience. Who are these people sitting around me?
At certain parts in the play, I take my eyes off the performer, peel my ears to the language and watch how the audience responds. It's facsinating; I've made the art of theatre into a tennis match: up at the stage, back to the audience and so forth. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it until I catch myself staring in the dark at a stranger's head. Think about it...the audience is presented the same play, but the reactions are all different. Sometimes, watching the audience is better than the play itself.
For example, at the Ahmanson Theatre, one of the play's themes was homosexuality. The woman in front of me was quite bothered by the topic. Apparently, she missed the buzz and blurbs that were blasted on posters, reviews, and in the program for the past year. I thought she was going to tisk, cluck and shift herself to death. She got through it (at the expense of others) but she didn't leave. I was proud of her. Who am I kidding? It was the first time I had the urge to kick a fellow audience member in the head. The play was weighted in silence so every time she whispered or sighed with disgust her sound bellowed like a t-rex at dinner time. Ahhhhhhh! Over and over again. This play had no intermission. In the tiniest whisper my friend, Ron mouths, "You wanna move?" Oh great, I thought, these are the times I wish I could fly. "Ugh, I'll follow you?" I mean really, do you shimmy down a narrow aisle before the actor cries, after the breakdown or in the blackout and just say "Oh sorry for crushing your toes?" You just can't think about it...you just do it. So...we moved. I made the transfer in three large, but almost silent pitter patters. The next hour was "disgruntled weird lady in front of me" free. We were able to focus on the play and own the experience. I never thought I would still be thinking about her. So was so angry...I wonder what made her the way she is?
The next play was less presentational in style and was about coping with the loss of innocent life. We finagled our way into orchestra seats without paying full price so I was very happy. Other than the cell phone interruption and the next door ladies' "hungry lion stomach growl" things went off without a hitch. During intermission, the sweet lady to our left got to talking. It's amazing that people will come up with their own stories pertaining to you based on their assumptions. Before I knew it, my buddy and I were actually "a wonderful young couple" taking a break from "campus life." She thought we were college freshmen studying theatre. She sweetly went on about youth and art, interjecting memories about herself and her own kids. It was nice to be "nineteen" for a couple of hours...she seemed so content with what she believed us to be that I couldn't burst her bubble. Sometimes a made up truth serves more of a purpose than the actual reality. I believe this example to be the perfect situation to respectively nod, smile and agree. So I did, and I made a new friend at the Geffen.
In conclusion, while sitting in the dark with a bunch of strangers I came in contact with a t-rex, a hungry lion, and an elderly cherub. I mastered another game of "audience tennis." But most of all, I learned that as an audience member being well informed about the play's subject matter and desiring to come into the world which unfolds before you affects so many people. As for the other side, there's nothing worse than a bloated narcissistic production that's gone off the deep end leaving its audience swimming in tacky metaphors and relentless "ideas." Being a theatre patron, we put our trust in theatre professionals (ie directors, actors, writers and creative team) to reach, sometimes far, into the dark and touch a mind or heart making us different than before. I like to be somwhere in that cycle.
PS. My mother thinks this blog is "too wordy, but very insightful." Oh Mama Strom, ex-English teacher and Mother of the Year I humbly thank you for your help. Uh!
MSS, Over and Out
At certain parts in the play, I take my eyes off the performer, peel my ears to the language and watch how the audience responds. It's facsinating; I've made the art of theatre into a tennis match: up at the stage, back to the audience and so forth. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it until I catch myself staring in the dark at a stranger's head. Think about it...the audience is presented the same play, but the reactions are all different. Sometimes, watching the audience is better than the play itself.
For example, at the Ahmanson Theatre, one of the play's themes was homosexuality. The woman in front of me was quite bothered by the topic. Apparently, she missed the buzz and blurbs that were blasted on posters, reviews, and in the program for the past year. I thought she was going to tisk, cluck and shift herself to death. She got through it (at the expense of others) but she didn't leave. I was proud of her. Who am I kidding? It was the first time I had the urge to kick a fellow audience member in the head. The play was weighted in silence so every time she whispered or sighed with disgust her sound bellowed like a t-rex at dinner time. Ahhhhhhh! Over and over again. This play had no intermission. In the tiniest whisper my friend, Ron mouths, "You wanna move?" Oh great, I thought, these are the times I wish I could fly. "Ugh, I'll follow you?" I mean really, do you shimmy down a narrow aisle before the actor cries, after the breakdown or in the blackout and just say "Oh sorry for crushing your toes?" You just can't think about it...you just do it. So...we moved. I made the transfer in three large, but almost silent pitter patters. The next hour was "disgruntled weird lady in front of me" free. We were able to focus on the play and own the experience. I never thought I would still be thinking about her. So was so angry...I wonder what made her the way she is?
The next play was less presentational in style and was about coping with the loss of innocent life. We finagled our way into orchestra seats without paying full price so I was very happy. Other than the cell phone interruption and the next door ladies' "hungry lion stomach growl" things went off without a hitch. During intermission, the sweet lady to our left got to talking. It's amazing that people will come up with their own stories pertaining to you based on their assumptions. Before I knew it, my buddy and I were actually "a wonderful young couple" taking a break from "campus life." She thought we were college freshmen studying theatre. She sweetly went on about youth and art, interjecting memories about herself and her own kids. It was nice to be "nineteen" for a couple of hours...she seemed so content with what she believed us to be that I couldn't burst her bubble. Sometimes a made up truth serves more of a purpose than the actual reality. I believe this example to be the perfect situation to respectively nod, smile and agree. So I did, and I made a new friend at the Geffen.
In conclusion, while sitting in the dark with a bunch of strangers I came in contact with a t-rex, a hungry lion, and an elderly cherub. I mastered another game of "audience tennis." But most of all, I learned that as an audience member being well informed about the play's subject matter and desiring to come into the world which unfolds before you affects so many people. As for the other side, there's nothing worse than a bloated narcissistic production that's gone off the deep end leaving its audience swimming in tacky metaphors and relentless "ideas." Being a theatre patron, we put our trust in theatre professionals (ie directors, actors, writers and creative team) to reach, sometimes far, into the dark and touch a mind or heart making us different than before. I like to be somwhere in that cycle.
PS. My mother thinks this blog is "too wordy, but very insightful." Oh Mama Strom, ex-English teacher and Mother of the Year I humbly thank you for your help. Uh!
MSS, Over and Out
posted by Melissa Strom
@ 11:19 AM
0 Comments
