July-August-ish, 2024
Lovely is not exciting.
Gman and I have been ranting recently about the current theatre scene. We are pretty done with safe, conservative, theatrey-theatre. I mean where is the danger? Where is the goddamn sex and murder and rape? Are we scared to put not nice things, or sexy things (or not-nice sexy things) on our stages?
I mean, yes of course sexual violence in any way, shape or form is abhorrent. But what happened to the theatre being a safe space to toss around and confront the world’s complexities? (Which if I am not mistaken includes the good, the bad, the complicated, the dark, the criminal and of course the ugly, thank you Clint Eastwood.)
It makes me wonder if we are afraid of being uncomfortable? Or are the theatre companies afraid of making an audience uncomfortable, for fear they won’t buy next season’s pass? Surely the subscriber-base doesn’t only want nice, safe, conservative theatre? Obviously I understand that the companies have to cater to their subscribers. I mean most of the time the only theatre Gman and I can afford to go to is Opening Nights thanks to the free tickets. Who can afford upwards of $80 on a safe, run-of-the-mill show that will have a cast of one or two actors, three if you’re lucky (cos big casts are too expensive) and a running time of 2-hours and 40 minutes? Obviously there are exceptions to these massive generalisations. I saw Uncle Vanya recently and it was spectacular. Gman saw Gaslight, at least I think that it what is was called, and said it was everything we’ve been banging on about.
Maybe the problem starts with our writers? Obviously we want to encourage and celebrate Australian writing, so of course we have to put Aussie writers on stage. As we should. But if writers write what they know best, and what they know best, I presume, is their life experience lived here in Aus which, given we live in an ostensibly peaceful time where arguably our biggest battles are inside our heads, does that translate to domestic plays that 9 times out of 10 are about angst suffered in the minds of suburban Aussie backyards and nothing more? If I see one more play where the lights come up on an actor standing on a virtually empty stage, staring wistfully off into the distance, I am going to puke. And if you want proof in the pudding, here I bloody am, writing exactly what I am railing against. Ps I just had to google that expression (the proof in the pudding one) to double check what it actually means and if I used it correctly; I did. You’re welcome.
So we saw a show recently in Melbourne of a hugely famous, brilliant play. I’m talking theatre royalty. A classic. Critically acclaimed, crazy successful, massively popular play, first performed in America in 1947 and done over and over and over and over. It’s just that good. Now first of all, this play is about sex and manipulation and male toxicity and family and poverty and delusion and yes, at the end there is rape. I gotta say, for me, this production managed to successfully remove most of the danger and all of the sex. I’m pretty sure we saw a really good PG version of an R-rated play. Quite the accomplishment when you put it like that. Clearly I’m exaggerating, I mean what theatre do you know of that is R-rated other than at strip clubs? But my point is; how can you possibly demote rape to PG?
Now don’t get me wrong, we are friends with a number of the actors in this play and they are brilliant actors. We also know the director. Gman has worked with them more than once and, on the whole, we both had a lovely night out. But is a lovely night out enough? What about an exciting night out? We constantly hear about cutbacks to the arts and theatres losing money while the football stadiums are packed and I just don’t think it boils down to us being a sport-loving nation. It’s about excitement. A game of footy can be so much fun to watch. Even a not-great game of footy can be more fun than a night in the theatre. It doesn’t ask too much of you I suppose, and yet, it pulls you in and grabs your attention, while allowing you to share it with your mates over a drink and a chat (or a yell…at the screen and the refs if that’s your jam.) Investing in the plight of the Matilda’s put Aussie women’s soccer on the map and goddamn was that a godsend after Covid? How many of us jumped on that train like it was a lifeline? It’s the same with live music. When I book tickets to a gig, I look forward to it in a completely different way than when I book theatre tickets. Am I the only one? Maybe I am. But I don’t think so. Otherwise the theatres would be packed, right?
I look forward to a gig with, well, less dread. Dread of a night out that is taxing. Dread that it’ll demand my attention and zap my energy. Dread of not really having much fun. Maybe cos it feels like I’ll have to work for it. It’s like that dinner with an old friend that you feel obliged to go to, to keep up appearances, cos they’re visiting Sydney and you postponed the last one, so you have to go this time, you know? And don’t get me wrong, you have a lovely time at dinner with your old friend. It’s actually really nice to catch up and afterwards you’re always really glad that you went and wonder what all the dread was about. Really. It’s just that lovely is sometimes, well, boring. And no one ever used the word lovely to describe something fun and exciting.
How’s the juxtaposition of what I am talking about though? You would think a lovely night in the theatre would be easier and more relaxing to watch than some high-stakes, excitement-packed extravaganza. But well, you would be wrong. I want to be sucked into drama and action, so that time flies and I get taken out of my everyday life and thrown into something else, something other. I don’t want to watch another over-earnest attempt to make me cry for the catharsis of it and I especially don’t want to watch an actor earnestly trying to cry for the catharsis of it. Isn’t that was therapy is for? A place where you can talk incessantly about yourself, cry your heart out and shove your opinions at a therapist who is obligated to listen to you, in a professional setting, so it feels less like whingeing and more like trying to help yourself? By the way if that sounded like I am anti-therapy, I most definitely am not. That was written somewhat tongue-in-cheek, you just can’t see my tongue in my cheek. Side note; I had to google that expression too and the good news is, that’s two for two baby. I’m on a roll.
Anyway, I just walked out of that play wondering how on earth they managed to make it so…safe. So not-challenging. So unexciting. I can’t help wondering that our theatre companies underestimate us as an audience. Or maybe I really am just not the ticket holder they are catering to. Or maybe everything I am ranting about is a moot point, cos I just haven’t seen the kinds of shows I want to see because I am too poor, or too much of a cheapskate, to see them. That’s a very real possibility. But for the sake of the argument we, as a species, are naturally drawn to watching attractive humans are we not? It’s exciting and fun to watch attractive people. It’s inherent in the word attractive for god’s sake, so you know I am not making this shit up. We live in a society that puts certain people up on pedestals. People who are beautiful or smart or charming or super talented or whatever it is that we put them up on pedestals for, but who might also be terrible people. Or might not be terrible people, but who do terrible things, and yet we are still attracted to them for one reason or another. If we put those people and those dangerous circumstances up on stage, rather than shying away from it, and we are confronted with having to reconcile our thoughts and feelings of people doing god-awful things, doesn’t that ask more interesting questions of ourselves rather than watching people be civil? Like how inclined people are to forgive terrible acts, or demote terrible acts to not-so-terrible acts because we are blinded by attraction? I feel I have somehow gotten off track and am now arguing something else, so what the fuck is my point? What am I even talking about?
My point is that I want exciting theatre and I think exciting means big and bold and dangerous or sexy or violent and yes, it can mean uncomfortable, but it is, in the least, something that demands a response from me. Cos watching safe, unsexy, thoughtful and conservative theatre just doesn’t do it. I would much prefer to watch a show that goes for something big and either succeeds gloriously or fails spectacularly, rather than a show that plays-it-safe. You know when you leave the theatre having seen something that you absolutely loved, or totally hated, and you have a visceral response that has your blood pumping? (Or boiling, depending on whether it’s the love or hate version.) Isn’t that more fun than walking out feeling like what you saw was kinda fine, but do you wanna grab a drink somewhere and maybe catch up with some friends, or just go home to bed? Because when theatre is ‘fine’, you just forget about its existence by the time your head has hit the pillow. In which case, what’s the point?
So, just to recap, I think we have established that bland, mediocre theatre is a waste of time? Yes? Good. In fact, I would go so far as to say theatre that is ‘fine’, is actually the worst kind of theatre there is. And don’t worry, it is not lost on me that my very own writing, if staged, would be yet another mediocre, one-woman show that is more or less; fine. But hey, if it has been staged then I sure hope you are, as we speak, having a lovely night out in the theatre. You’re welcome.