Story of the Week: Is Theater Etiquette Dead?

A scuffle at the Palace Theatre in Manchester, England, made international headlines this week when two audience members were escorted from the house for singing loudly and refusing to stop during a performance of The Bodyguard. This local incident prompted a global debate about “theater etiquette,” with diehard theatergoers deploring the deterioration of audience behavior, while other commenters (most notably, British morning show hosts Alison Hammond and Vanessa Feltz) wondered what the big deal is.

Story of the Week will take a deep dive into the controversy and attempt to answer the question: Is theater etiquette dead?

Should people be allowed to sing at theatres? 🎭 After one theatre in Manchester banned audiences from singing along, @VanessaOnAir has her say… pic.twitter.com/NiQCEw49N7

— This Morning (@thismorning) April 6, 2023

 

What is “theater etiquette”?

The definition changes depending on time and place. The 17^th-century groundlings at Shakespeare’s Globe, who would have stood through the entire performance while consuming food and drink, had a very different idea of etiquette than a ticketholder to the Metropolitan Opera in 2023.

In 21^st-century New York, most theaters have a fairly consistent set of expectations for the audience: Take your seat, turn your cell phone off, and refrain from talking or making other noises during the performance unless it’s laughter or applause…and even that has its limits. It is not uncommon at some New York theaters to hear a loud chorus of “shhhhh” as the houselights dim. This audible reproach is almost always louder than the lingering chatter it is meant to silence and is in many ways self-defeating — manners becoming the main event rather than a tool to facilitate a pleasant playgoing experience for everyone.

I have recently noticed program inserts at certain plays (often by Black writers) explicitly giving the audience permission to laugh as loud as they want and even respond back to the stage if so moved. This seems to be an effort to put nonwhite theatergoers at ease in spaces that may feel alien (according to the latest statistics from the Broadway League, conducted during the 2018-19 season, 74 percent of seats were occupied by white butts). But it also serves as a notice to more seasoned theatergoers to think twice before admonishing a fellow patron for a breach of etiquette. Essentially, the authors are amending the code of conduct to welcome newcomers.

In the last two seasons, the protocols around masking and other anti-Covid measures have opened another front in the etiquette wars, with house staff (and other theatergoers) calling out errant noses and inadequate cloth masks. Theaters held on to these policies long after they were abandoned almost everywhere else (even my doctor’s office doesn’t require masks anymore). While profit-driven Broadway was the first to do away with them, and other big off-Broadway theaters have slowly followed suit as predicted, some smaller venues persist: Just a few weeks ago, I was told I would need to don an N95 mask (as opposed to the surgical one I was wearing) in order to attend a performance of Lunch Bunch at 122CC. For irregular theatergoers, this increasingly feels like the strange ritual of an insular church, like covering up one’s hair in an archconservative Catholic congregation. It’s a bad look for an institution that claims to want to attract new audiences.

Then there are immersive shows like Sleep No More that very much expect audiences to explore and interact. Most cabarets encourage alcohol consumption with a two-drink minimum, and some live music venues expect a certain amount of noise (clinking silverware, the din of conversation) during the performance. It really depends on what the venue is presenting and what they hope audiences will get out of it.

All of this is to say, there is no universal set of rules for attending a live performance. “Theater etiquette” is elastic, subject to constant redefinition.

Are the women in the above video in violation of theater etiquette?

 By almost any definition, yes. Even if their voices were lovely (they were not), no one paid to hear them sing and no one in the show had invited them to do so. When asked to stop, they refused. And when confronted by security staff, the one who resembles a Mancunian Angela Merkel became violent. It’s hard to think of any venue at which that would be appropriate, short of a professional wrestling ring.

It reminded me of another recent incident in which a visibly inebriated patron stopped a Broadway performance of Death of a Salesman to demand a refund, arguing with actor Wendell Pierce from the edge of the stage. The moment lasted an uncomfortably long time, perhaps in part due to a new set of manners embraced by the theater community: the unwillingness to involve the police in any dispute (although the NYPD were eventually called, and they did escort the woman from the theater).

Watching these two videos, you may be tempted to conclude that theaters are dealing with an epidemic of bad behavior fueled by liquid courage.

Should theaters ban alcohol sales to prevent this from happening?

While some commenters have suggested that theaters could stop selling alcohol altogether, this seems to me like a way to remove a source of revenue from a business while not actually solving the problem. Theaters cannot prevent patrons from tanking up at the bar down the street (although they can and should deny entry to the most conspicuously intoxicated, as bars and nightclubs do). And considering the price of drinks at most venues (a “Hogwarts Express” cocktail at Harry Potter and the Cursed Child will set you back $21, without tip) and the limited time one has to purchase them (immediately pre-show and during intermission), it would take quite an effort to get blitzed at a New York theater (it’s another story in the UK, where houses open earlier and patrons hang out in theater bars). I’m sure the bartenders at the Longacre don’t need me to tell them not to serve Jäger shots before a matinee of Leopoldstadt, so we in the chattering class ought to leave this matter to the discretion of professionals.

The truth is there are inconsiderate assholes in the world, and any public accommodation is bound to encounter a few if it stays open long enough. The delicate art of front of house management is limiting the impact of disruptive audience members without creating a stifling atmosphere for the well-behaved majority, who may be tempted to spend their entertainment dollars elsewhere if they feel overly policed. Theater is still a leisure (and in the case of Broadway, luxury) activity in a time when consumers have a surplus of options. It really shouldn’t be up to those whose tickets are generally comped to determine how this business competes in that environment.

Is it time to toss out “theater etiquette” altogether?

My colleague in London, Alex Wood, has persuasively argued that the term “etiquette” has a musty aroma about it. It’s a mothballed throwback to Emily Post that is increasingly incompatible with the kind of theater a new generation of artists is interested in creating. Even worse, it suggests a form of gatekeeping and social control. So it is probably time to retire the term “theater etiquette.”

That doesn’t mean anarchy in the seats: Call it what you will, but there will always be a set of rules and expectations for any space in which humans gather. These rules should facilitate the safe enjoyment of the largest number of people. And like any social contract, they should be subject to regular renegotiation to remove customs that are arbitrary and antiquated (for an excellent play on this subject, read Philip Dawkins’s Charm). Ideally, the rules around theatergoing would be specific to each production and clearly articulated to the audience from the moment they step into the building.

Theatermakers can do a lot to make their expectations known (the aforementioned program notes are an excellent example). Directors should consider the role of the audience with the same care one takes with a choice about set or costume design, and that work extends beyond the stage. Producers and directors should absolutely treat house and security staff as vital collaborators in the storytelling process, rather than just crowd control. They are the people who set the tone in the lobby and the line outside, and that makes them part of the performance.

Audiences can do their part by approaching the theater with an open mind and a sense of generosity when it comes to our fellow theatergoers, who may experience a play or musical differently than we do. For the vast majority of reasonable, curious, kind theatergoers, this is a small ask.

Of course, there will always be a belligerent few who insist on ruining the experience for others and won’t be reasoned with. In such rare instances, what can one do but throw the bums out?