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few years ago, I had the misfortune to attend a matinee performance of Macbeth, a GCSE text studied by many local schools, where, despite the best efforts of the teachers on duty, the behaviour of quite a proportion of the students ruined the show. As the lights went down, the ironic cheering began, accompanied by the snap of ring–pulls being lifted on a dozen or so cans of pop. Twenty minutes in, the toilet trips started and continued throughout the rest of the performance, despite the twenty minute interval. As some of the staff were now required to supervise in the toilets, those remaining in the auditorium found it even harder to quell the intermittent bouts of irrelevant chatter, despite standing in the aisles for easier disciplinary access. What’s more, the rustle of sweet wrappers and crisp packets added little to the evocation of a dark and brooding medieval Scotland. Each murder was greeted with riotous cheers worthy of the Roman Colosseum at Christian baiting time, these cheers laced with just a touch of teenage cynicism. The famous “Tomorrow and tomorrow” speech was to be delivered on a stage enrobed in theatrical smoke so naturally Macbeth struck an appropriate theatrical pose – “embittered” if I remember rightly- and waited for the fake coughing to subside. It didn’t. And then something wonderful happened. The actor playing Macbeth, with no regard to fourth wall conventions, moved downstage, fixed his attention on the worst offenders and in clear street Glaswegian tones launched into a bit of the script that seemed somewhat unfamiliar: “We’ve been working for weeks on this play. If you dunnae shut the **** up , yu’ll feel the back o’my hand!” The coughing stopped, the play continued (with only one further interruption when Macduff asked people to stop talking just before he dispatched Macbeth), but there was a sense that battle lines had been drawn not between the Scots and the English but between the cast and the audience. I never really believed all the nonsense about the curse of “the Scottish play” but years later, at the fabulous Library Theatre/Out of Joint production staged in an Ancoats warehouse, the same soliloquy was interrupted by a mobile phone. Which rang. And rang. And rang. With not a school party in sight as this promenade performance had an age limit and restricted seating , the audience began to cast surreptitious glances from side to side as if to prompt the offender to turn the damned thing off. The phone rang. And rang. Embarrassed coughing and 38
Out, damned sprogs! An evening at the theatre is not like a night in front of the telly. Actors and audience members expect a standard of behaviour that does not come naturally to all children. Arts Editor Nicki Thornhill lays down a few ground rules and warns of what can happen when an actor roars at his crowd awkward shuffling around heralded the onset of the breaking of the tension so carefully built up by the company and then...Macbeth sighed and said “I’m sorry. You’re going to have to turn that off” before walking off stage to get ready to give it another go. The offender? A well to do, middle aged Jeffery Archer lookalike who should have known better. And then there was a time I had to look daggers at a bunch of elderly ladies who talked their way through a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream – wasn’t he off Emmerdale, do you fancy a chocolate brazil, that kind of thing. And the time a local theatre thought it would be a good idea to sell kids glow in the dark three foot long
Theatre visits: the rules For younger children, try to create a sense of occasion. Lively discussion and an enthusiastic approach will set the right mood. Discuss proper behaviour before arrival. Explain that unlike a film, you're seeing a live performance. Quiet is encouraged out of respect for the performers and fellow audience members. Try to play down a sense of occasion with teenagers. If they feel more comfortable with their ripped jeans and piercings, so be it! Phones should be switched off however. They can pick up
swords which made an authentic clashing sound. And the parents who thought it would be fun to allow their twin sons to have sword fights throughout the show. (This was the family who added an extra dimension to my sensory experience by bringing in a KFC bargain bucket which they shared noisily through the first few scenes). Now, I’m not completely intolerant (!) but some people just do not seem to appreciate the difference between watching a live performance and something on the telly at home, the main difference being of course that we all have to suspend our disbelief to make the show work – like the cast, the audience have a part to play in creating the magic. And children their social life at the interval. Once in the auditorium children should know they have to remain in their seat. If your child can't see, place them in your lap. This will also help calm down children who become antsy. Don't allow food and drink into the theatre – although you may wish to soften this restriction when “training” little ones. The upside of not eating during the performance is that you can let them have staggered treats – before, afterwards and during the interval. Insist they visit the loo prior to the show. It's very