I haven't written much here for a while. Thoughts on things dramatic flit past like damsel flies across a murky pond (that latter image being a simile for my mind, mostly) but life has mostly squashed them like ... what is the natural predator of a damsel fly? A frog. But I was having a conversation about need for realism in a short play, and decided to note my own view, which is: absolutely not.
When I say, realism, I don't mean in the sense of, Does that window really look like it opens on a conservatory/brothel/Parisian street?, or even Does it look like a window? the answer for which, unless you're Theatre Royal Bath or a ritzy West End theatre with the production budget of a drone squadron, the answer is almost certainly No. I'm talking about the convention of the fourth wall, which requires actors to prance before a darkened mass of largely silent onlookers, pretending their observers don't exist and the only 'reality' is the memorised words of the preordained situation they will replicate until it's time to go off stage, have a drink and a bath and go to bed before doing it all again.
Of course theatre, from 6th century Athens onwards, inevitably involves a bit of memorising and repeating situations. Otherwise it's impro, or games, or maybe a riot. To my mind the really significant element is acknowledgement of the audience, and that's what early theatre ~ and theatre in Elizabethan times ~ certainly did. I don't mean Brechtian ruthless exclusion of illusion, I mean acknowledgement that whatever the style of drama, this is an art form that occurs in real time ~ not a movie where scenes are re-shot for perfection but a shared act of human experience, and all the more precious and privileged for that. As Tim Crouch said: "the creative act is not performed by the artist alone... the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act." In other words, what is special about theatre is that the audience is NOT inert, silent in the darkness, unable to press pause and go off to put the kettle on or answer the phone. Those people are present, they are the third element in that curious triangle that starts with the playwright, moves on to the director and team, and finally completes when the audience hears the words, watches their interpretation, and responds emotionally.
So that's why when I start a short play I turn as soon as possible to the audience, addressing them directly, insisting they realise they are a key part of this journey. That's literally true ~ responses of laughter, or shuffling inattention, have huge impact on a performance. But it goes deeper than that. Picasso said the task of an artist is "to wake people up" and to me that means not hectoring them about my opinions but alerting them to become more strongly aware of their own. Stand-up comics do it by creating delighted unease amongst their audience: no one is quite sure they may not be called out to account for themselves, whether they heckle, laugh, or sit straightfaced. I think drama that breaks the fourth wall, that addresses the audience direct with an appeal to listen and believe, makes a similar though internal 'call to account'. It challenges us as audience to engage with the challenge, to wonder what would I have done, and to connect more fully with emotions, whether empathy or aversion. Theatre is about being human, and there's nothing trivial or 'merely entertaining' about that.
Image: The Globe production of Twelfth Night (at the Apollo) 2012 ~ actors dressing on stage before the play opens. I don't know how historically authentic, but very appropriate, as Shakespeare is brilliant at breaking the fourth wall abruptly after emotional scenes, demanding that we never lose touch with the immediacy and impact of the action.
When I say, realism, I don't mean in the sense of, Does that window really look like it opens on a conservatory/brothel/Parisian street?, or even Does it look like a window? the answer for which, unless you're Theatre Royal Bath or a ritzy West End theatre with the production budget of a drone squadron, the answer is almost certainly No. I'm talking about the convention of the fourth wall, which requires actors to prance before a darkened mass of largely silent onlookers, pretending their observers don't exist and the only 'reality' is the memorised words of the preordained situation they will replicate until it's time to go off stage, have a drink and a bath and go to bed before doing it all again.
Of course theatre, from 6th century Athens onwards, inevitably involves a bit of memorising and repeating situations. Otherwise it's impro, or games, or maybe a riot. To my mind the really significant element is acknowledgement of the audience, and that's what early theatre ~ and theatre in Elizabethan times ~ certainly did. I don't mean Brechtian ruthless exclusion of illusion, I mean acknowledgement that whatever the style of drama, this is an art form that occurs in real time ~ not a movie where scenes are re-shot for perfection but a shared act of human experience, and all the more precious and privileged for that. As Tim Crouch said: "the creative act is not performed by the artist alone... the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act." In other words, what is special about theatre is that the audience is NOT inert, silent in the darkness, unable to press pause and go off to put the kettle on or answer the phone. Those people are present, they are the third element in that curious triangle that starts with the playwright, moves on to the director and team, and finally completes when the audience hears the words, watches their interpretation, and responds emotionally.
So that's why when I start a short play I turn as soon as possible to the audience, addressing them directly, insisting they realise they are a key part of this journey. That's literally true ~ responses of laughter, or shuffling inattention, have huge impact on a performance. But it goes deeper than that. Picasso said the task of an artist is "to wake people up" and to me that means not hectoring them about my opinions but alerting them to become more strongly aware of their own. Stand-up comics do it by creating delighted unease amongst their audience: no one is quite sure they may not be called out to account for themselves, whether they heckle, laugh, or sit straightfaced. I think drama that breaks the fourth wall, that addresses the audience direct with an appeal to listen and believe, makes a similar though internal 'call to account'. It challenges us as audience to engage with the challenge, to wonder what would I have done, and to connect more fully with emotions, whether empathy or aversion. Theatre is about being human, and there's nothing trivial or 'merely entertaining' about that.
Image: The Globe production of Twelfth Night (at the Apollo) 2012 ~ actors dressing on stage before the play opens. I don't know how historically authentic, but very appropriate, as Shakespeare is brilliant at breaking the fourth wall abruptly after emotional scenes, demanding that we never lose touch with the immediacy and impact of the action.
