Showing posts with label audience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label audience. Show all posts

12 June 2024

"Subscriptions Are Dead, Long Live Subscriptions"

by Rosie Brownlow-Calkin

A Supplement to the Regional Theater Series

[As most theatergoers know, the regional repertory theaters in the United States depends heavily on subscriptions for their audiences.  The programs may vary from company to company and even from season to season as marketing tactics change or someone comes up with a new concept, but some kind of subscription plan has been the mainstay for regional theater since the movement began, essentially following World War II. 

[In recent decades, however, theater audiences began to shrivel.  Potential audience members aged and younger people didn’t sign up to replace their elders.  The reasons vary, of course, but the repercussions have been a whittling-away of the base of the rep companies’ principal source of attendees and, thereby, their income base.

[The latest issue, Spring 2024, of the Theatre Communications Groups American Theatre, which has become a quarterly magazine since returning to print after going online during the pandemic shutdown, carried a couple of articles dealing with this and related issues. 

[As part of my ad hoc series on the regional theater in the U.S., focusing on its significance in our culture and the problem it currently faces, I’m republishing Rosie Brownlow-Calkin’s “Subscriptions Are Dead, Long Live Subscriptions!” on Rick On Theater.  The article originally appeared in AT in the spring issue and was posted on the website on 4 June 2024.]

Theatres are taking a hard look at a well-worn patron model, and coming to different conclusions about its usefulness.

When Amy Kaissar wrote her graduate thesis on the topic of nonprofit theatre subscriptions [“Theatre Subscriptions in a Changing World,” MFA thesis, Division of Theatre, School of the Arts, Columbia University, 2005], her basic argument was: They’re not dead; we just haven’t invested in them. Now, 19 years wiser, and after 15 years in leadership positions, Kaissar, the current co-producing director at Bristol Riverside Theatre [BRT] in Bristol, Pa., confessed, “I’m not sure I would 100 percent agree” with her earlier assessment.

The hedging is important here—it’s not that her outlook has done a 180. But so much in the intervening years has complicated her earlier certainty, including, of course, the pandemic lockdown of the past few years, which impacted every aspect of the industry. But even without that bumpy chapter and its even rockier aftermath, the outlook for subscriptions has long been multilayered. Even now, for all the public hand-wringing about the state of the theatre, artistic leaders, audiences, and a quantitative survey of 84 companies from across the U.S. conducted by American Theatre presents a remarkably multifarious picture rather than a uniformly bleak one.

The complexity begins with the very definition of subscriptions. Butts in seats is an easy number to measure (How full is the house? Down about 25-30 percent nationwide, on average), but what makes a subscription a subscription? Trinity Rep in Providence, R.I., and Shotgun Players in Berkeley, Calif., to name two examples, have embraced the flexible models that have gained traction in recent years (pay in advance for a set number of tickets and redeem for the best available seat for any performance on any day in the show’s run), while 4th Wall Theatre Company in Houston and Oregon Contemporary Theatre in Eugene are leaning into what many in the industry refer to as the “standard” or “traditional” model (pay in advance for the same seats on the second Thursday of every run, say). The REV Theatre Co. in Auburn, N.Y., has ditched flex passes entirely.

Road Less Traveled Productions in Buffalo, N.Y., and Dobama Theatre in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, like several others in the survey, are rolling out what they call “memberships,” but nearly all of these differ from flex subscriptions in name only—with the notable exception of Open Stage in Harrisburg, Pa., which offers a pay-by-the-month model patrons can cancel any time (and for the record, Open Stage says it’s doing great—subscriptions are up 296 percent since 2019). Omaha Theater Company has a new rolling membership “similar to museums” that allows patrons to jump in at any point in the calendar year. To add to the variety of the picture, Local Theater Company in Boulder, Colo., produces three shows in a season, while Sierra Rep in Sonora, Calif., produces nine, and both offer subscriptions. You’re hardly comparing apples to apples the way you can with single-ticket purchases.

So broadly speaking—if we can speak broadly at all—what are the trends? Are subscriptions in free fall, and if so, what does that mean for the continuing health of theatres? Are subscriptions still a viable model, for either audiences or companies?

On their face, the numbers aren’t great. Of the 66 companies responding to the survey that offer subscriptions and provided complete data, 42 percent said the numbers are way down, with 30 percent or more of their subscribers gone since the pandemic, and 21 percent of companies said they are somewhat down (between 11 and 29 percent subscriber attrition). This is almost a photonegative of numbers for audience attendance in general: As measured in a previous AT survey, many more companies are down moderately in overall attendance than are down significantly.

But the bright spots are brighter too. More companies are doing well with subscribers than are doing well with overall ticket sales: 20 percent of companies report more than a 10 percent subscriber increase since 2019, and 17 percent have held steady (which we’re defining here as staying within a 10 percent increase or decrease). Comparatively, only 26 percent of companies report steady or increased attendance numbers overall.

So more than a third of companies in our survey said they’ve weathered the pandemic lockdown and are in stable or better shape, subscriber-wise, since reopening. Burning Coal Theatre Company in Raleigh, N.C., for instance, reported subscription growth of 60 percent over the past five years.

“The subscription model is just fine,” said Burning Coal artistic director Jerome Davis. “Young people aren’t crazy about it, but the nice thing about young people is, they don’t stay young for long.”

At Actor’s Express in Atlanta, managing director Alex Scollon said he wonders if the media bias toward well-resourced institutions is the reason there’s been such one-note, sad-sack media coverage about the state of the theatre field. “Often midsize and smaller organizations are left out of these conversations in favor of doom and gloom stories from LORT [League of Resident Theatres, a professional theater association for regional, non-profit companies],” said Scollon, who said that Actor’s Express’s subscription numbers have held steady. “There is a lot that keeps me up these days, but subscription plans are not one of them.”

Added Jen Uphoff Gray, artistic director of Forward Theatre in Madison, Wisc., “Overall, I am feeling exhausted by the messaging that ‘the subscription model is dead,’ which long predated the pandemic. Any such proclamations ignore the wide differences in theatre companies across the country, and the wide variety of audiences we serve.”

Indeed, the notion that the subscription model has been on the wane isn’t supported by the data we gathered. While none of the nine LORT member theatres [of a total of 75 members] that completed our survey have grown their base significantly, and only two have held steady (both in Florida, with its never-ending stream of retirees), half of the surveyed companies said their subscriptions were on the rise in the decade preceding the pandemic, with another quarter holding steady. Though the survey didn’t directly probe whether numbers had rebounded since the slump most companies experienced in 2020 or 2021, several volunteered the news that they are now trending in the right direction.

In sum, it feels premature to make any pronouncements about whether the contraction in audiences post-pandemic-lockdown is also a death knell for the subscription model. The longer-term data doesn’t indicate a gradual or inevitable trend in that direction for the majority of companies.

Still, if you factor in theatres who consider themselves “holding steady” with subscription losses of under 10 percent, nearly two-thirds of our respondents say they’ve lost subscribers in the past five years. Kaissar’s company, Bristol Riverside, is part of this larger group, with subscriptions down 31 percent since the pre-pandemic idyll of 2019. Though they have regained some subscribers from their lowest point over the last few years, Kaissar said she “wouldn’t call it a recovery at all. The diehards are still here, and we have not succeeded in getting new people in.”

Sheldon Post is one of those diehards. He said via email that he’s stuck with BRT for 35 years because of the variety of programming, “a mix of relatively unknown plays, very well-known plays, and ‘different’ takes on familiar plays,” as well as the perks, including “the ability to change our performance date on the rare occasions that we need to,” and a benefit that “enables subscribers to return on another night to see a play again—no charge.”

That seems like a good deal (though the ability to exchange tickets has recently been extended to single-ticket buyers at several companies for free or a nominal fee). So why have so many at BRT flown the coop, and so precipitously? Kaissar was hesitant to make big pronouncements on the subject. “I worry about anyone who claims to understand the actual causes, given the lack of available high-quality research,” she said, but did recall that in conversations with subscribers, “What we hear most consistently is either age-related things, or they moved, or they didn’t like the work we’re doing anymore. They want the work of the previous generation.” She added that, for the record, her company hasn’t pivoted from feel-good musicals to the work of Sarah Kane, but that it has been more focused on attracting Gen X patrons and other recent empty nesters with titles they might recognize, like their upcoming Big The Musical. Viewed through one lens, that may seem like crowd-pleasing programming, but it all depends which crowd you mean: Baby boomers and above were not that movie’s target audience when it came out in 1988.

[According to Wikipedia: “Sarah Kane [1972-99] was an English playwright, screenwriter and theatre director. She is known for her plays that deal with themes of redemptive love, sexual desire, pain, torture—both physical and psychological—and death. They are characterised by a poetic intensity, pared-down language, exploration of theatrical form and, in her earlier work, the use of extreme and violent stage action.”  Kane died by suicide at the age of 28.]

Other artistic leaders are in agreement with Kaissar, with many citing a greying of their subscriber base as a reason for declining subscription rates. The near-universal agreement is that subscribers, especially to the “standard” models, tend to be older. In the four years since Covid hit, these audience members are more likely to have passed, moved away, become infirm, or simply gotten more cautious about their health. And for whatever reason, Gen Xers and millennials tend not to make plans far in advance. Said Lauren Halvorsen [dramaturg and writer based in Washington, D.C.] of the popular theatre Substack newsletter Nothing for the Group [newsletter devoted to a conversation about pay equity in the theater], “Theatres do not embrace the spontaneity of younger generations.”

So between the thinning older audience and the last-minute-planning younger audience, it’s no wonder that traditional subscription numbers are not rising. “The word subscription scares people off post-Covid,” said Tracy Mitchell, executive director of Bay Street Theater in Sag Harbor, N.Y. “The current trend of late purchasing has become a habit. As long as there is a seat available, this is going to plague theatres for quite some time.”

Several survey respondents, like Kaissar, did say that a perceived distaste for “newer” programming contributed to the decline in numbers. Still, for all the right-wing media’s eagerness to blame “woke theatre” for this phenomenon, no respondent reported that this audience aversion had an especially political bent. Joe Miller, a one-time Bristol Riverside subscriber, said he cut the cord because he and his wife were “seeing plays that we’re just not that interested in. We like comedies, we like musicals, and some of these are plays we’ve never heard of before,” adding that he found the theatre’s programming overly heavy on drama of late.

There are countless soft or unique factors at play for subscribers who call it quits. For Lori Boswell in Portland, Ore., it wasn’t about programming but parking. She traded in her subscription to a LORT theatre for one at a non-union company in the suburbs; both make “okay” work, she said, but she was done with what she considers the inconvenience of coming downtown.

One area where there is little agreement: money. On its face, it would seem like an obvious driving factor in subscription trends, because younger people who might replace older subscribers are less likely to have the disposable income necessary for a lump sum upfront payment. Indeed, when we asked for comments on Facebook, the floodgates opened, with reflection after reflection from younger industry folks stating in one way or another that they cannot afford to subscribe. One was Kathryn Huey, former business manager for the Blue Man Group, current general manager of D.C.’s Studio Theatre, who said that subscriptions “are expensive, very true. They were nothing I could dream to do when I was younger.” Perhaps driven by necessity, the current crop of theatregoers “more than ever are looking for a deal, or a way to save,” argued Eric Pugh, director of marketing and communications of Asolo Repertory Theatre in Florida.

[Frequent theatergoers may know the name Blue Man Group, but for others: it’s a performance-art troupe, formed in 1987, known for productions incorporating many varieties of music and art. The performers, known as Blue Men, paint their skin blue, always appear in groups of three, and are mute during shows.

[Washington’s Studio Theatre is a company many of whose productions I’ve seen over the years.  See my many reports on this blog for an impression of their work.]

Chad Bauman, executive director of Milwaukee Rep, maintained that his company has retained its substantial subscriber base during the pandemic in part because they offer cheap subscription packages and avoid last-minute deals for single-ticket buyers that “undermine the value proposition of subscriptions.” Milwaukee Rep is in the minority on this point; at most companies, paying upfront doesn’t save subscribers much money in the long run. A recent AT survey found that subscribers save just $1 per ticket vs. single-ticket buyers, on average.

Even theatres where subscriptions offer real savings, like Bristol Riverside, haven’t seen a boost because of it, making it unclear whether cost is really a meaningful signal or barrier. According to Kaissar, it hasn’t been “a winning message when we’ve gone hard on how cheap it is.” At Amphibian Stage in Fort Worth, Texas, said outgoing artistic director Kathleen Culebro, “Our most popular subscription package is actually not our cheapest.” Numbers would seem to side with Kaissar and Culebro, at least on a macro level; our earlier survey found no clear link between trends in audience attendance and trends in ticket pricing over the past five years.

Whatever the driving force, Kaissar understandably views Bristol Riverside’s decline in subscribers as a big problem. Fewer subscribers means that her marketing budget has ballooned; loyal subscribers need only a single email every year to remind them to re-up, but “my single ticket buyer, I need to advertise to.” Articulating a version of the reasoning that, in the decades since Danny Newman’s groundbreaking book Subscribe Now! [1977 (3rd ed., 1981)‎, Theatre Communications Group] made subscription the dominant model for many performing arts organizations, Kaissar noted that without a significant subscriber bloc ponying up for a whole season in advance, each lesser-known title becomes a massive risk. Without a strong base of subscribers, “I don’t know how we make new work. I don’t know how we push the art form forward. I don’t know how we introduce people to things they don’t know. I don’t know how we support playwrights.”

At Theater Mu in the Twin Cities [located specifically in Saint Paul, Minnesota], the subscription numbers aren’t so hot either, but Lianna McLernon, Mu’s marketing and communications director, and Wesley Mouri, the theatre’s development director, don’t see it as a problem. Mu has lost about half of their subscribers since 2019, but single tickets are up twofold. While McLernon is quick to emphasize that the theatre still does offer subscriptions and “they are important to us and we love our subscribers,” Mouri explained that “being an Asian American theatre company is unique in the sense that the Asian diaspora is the most diverse diaspora that exists.” In practical terms that means that Mu audiences are “very specifically keyed into the specific culture of each show. The Hmong audience is not necessarily going to come see the Kung Fu Zombie show [The Kung Fu Zombies Saga by Saymoukda Duangphouxay Vongsay; 22 July-13 August 2023], which was about Lao experiences.”

There are many ways to measure growth, and Mu’s recent efforts to diversify their offerings outside the East Asian community have meant a massive influx of new audiences. Their audiences tend to be younger and more economically diverse than the typical theatregoer too; Mu offers a Pay As You Are program to every performance of every play, allowing patrons to purchase tickets for as little as $10. Institutional giving to the theatre has also doubled, a rarity in recent years, which helps release the pressure on ticket revenue to foot the bills.

While a theatre like Bristol Riverside sees subscriptions as a way to subsidize risk taking, at a theatre like Mu, the opposite is true. As Mouri and McLernon put it, Mu’s “focus on the diversifying of stories and representation” wouldn’t be possible if they were catering to “the same 200 people.” As Bay Street’s Tracy Mitchell put it, “Subscriptions are valuable for some of us, and not for others.”

While some survey respondents, like Mu, still offer subscriptions but have begun to direct their marketing strategies away from retaining and gaining subscribers, Chicago’s Congo Square Theatre “shifted away from subscriptions completely” to focus on “a radical generosity model to combat high costs associated with theatre,” as artistic director Ericka Ratcliff put it. People’s Light in Malvern, Pa., has focused its efforts on engaging regular attendees who are not subscribers. Though subscribers “can be terrific brand ambassadors for us,” as former managing director Erica Ezold put it, “our overall marketing strategy has shifted from subscribers as the first priority.”

But even most theatres who have lost subscribers have not abandoned the model, at least not for now. Many companies are offering perks, like drink tickets, subscriber-only events, and parking passes, to entice people to subscribe. City Lights Theater Company in San Jose, Calif., is emphasizing the value of community and belonging as a primary benefit to subscriptions, writing tailored welcome emails to each new subscriber.

American Conservatory Theater in San Francisco is focused first on bringing in single-ticket buyers, then on converting them to subscribers; similarly, ZACH Theatre in Austin waits until the first show of each season has closed to roll out one of their packages. Cadence Theatre Company in Richmond, Va., is offering early-bird discounts; Amphibian Stage has launched an under-40 package. Weston Theater Company in Vermont said they’re “streamlining” the subscription process. Penobscot Theatre Company in Bangor, Maine, is experimenting with a “three-tiered approach,” including a $20-per-seat package for first-time subscribers and a premium-level “true cost of the ticket” package. TheatreWorks Silicon Valley [Palo Alto, California] is seeing success with smaller packages. Main Street Theater in Houston is rebranding subscriptions as “season tickets,” because “subscriptions is what the monthly charge for streaming is called,” reasoned executive artistic director Rebecca Greene Udden.

Clive Worsley, executive director of Cal Shakes [California Shakespeare Theater] in Orinda, Calif., said he believes that the “days are numbered for the single-entity subscription model,” and thinks the answer lies in “offering membership packages that could get you in the door to multiple locations, like a passport.”

The sheer multiplicity of opinions and data trends is both exhausting and exhilarating. As there is no clear picture on the state of subscriptions, they are a bit of a black box: They can be a financial barrier or a democratic opportunity. They can be flexible or rigid. They can stifle or empower. They can be a massive financial engine, an ancillary benefit, or a distraction. And there is no clear crystal ball about where they’re headed: Many are up, twice as many are down, plenty are recovering. Amid the dizzying variety of approaches, one universal truth is that every company is moving somewhere on this issue; no one is meeting this extraordinary moment by standing still.

As she struggles to figure out what’s driving the drop in subscriptions, Kaissar said, “The model, whether subscriptions or anything else, is outmoded, and we’ve got to get it up to speed, fast. Long term, people clearly want to come together to hear stories; 10 years from now it will look better than it did before.” Pausing on that bit of hopeful thinking, she added, “In the short term, how we get there is terrifying.”

[Rosie Brownlow-Calkin is an Actors' Equity Association actor and assistant professor of theater at the University of Nevada, Reno.  She has written extensively about the economics of the theater industry.]

 

18 March 2024

"Audiences Are Back, More or Less"


A Supplement to the Regional Theater Series

[The following omnibus report on the lingering effects of the coronavirus pandemic and shutdown on attendance at public events and venues such as plays, concerts, and museums appeared in the “Arts” section of the New York Times on 13 March 2024.  It’s a collection of mini-reports by Times writers who cover the various areas of arts, culture, and entertainment.

[Over the past few months, I’ve published several articles on Rick On Theater related to the state and background of the regional theater in the United States: “A Crisis In America’s Theaters” on 13 September 2023, “The Regional Theater: Change or Die” on 3 October 2023, and “Regional Theater: History” on 8 October 2023.  In November and December, I ran an 11-part series on “A History of the National Endowment for the Arts” because the NEA had a huge influence on the development and growth of the regional theater in the U.S. 

[Because of the seriousness of this subject, I said when I started this coverage that I’d post on it from various perspectives from time to time.  Below is my fifth report in that occasional series.]

With shutdowns over, pop concerts crowds are up, but Broadway is still a bit down.

It was four years ago — on March 12, 2020 — that the coronavirus brought the curtain down on Broadway for what was initially supposed to be a monthlong shutdown, but which wound up lasting a year and a half.

The pandemic brought live events and big gatherings to a halt, silencing orchestras, shutting museums and movie theaters and leaving sports teams playing to empty stadiums dotted with cardboard cutouts.

Now, four years later, audiences are coming back, but the recovery has been uneven. Here is a snapshot of where things stand from reporters of The New York Times.

Broadway audiences are still down 17 percent from prepandemic levels.

On Broadway, overall attendance is still down about 17 percent: 9.3 million seats have been filled in the current season as of March 3, down from 11.1 million at the same point in 2020. Box office grosses are down, too: Broadway shows have grossed $1.2 billion so far this season, 14 percent below the level in early March of 2020.

Broadway has always had more flops than successes, and the post-pandemic period has been challenging for producers and investors, especially those involved in new musicals. Three pop productions that have opened since the pandemic — “Six,” about the wives of King Henry VIII, “MJ,” about Michael Jackson and “& Juliet,” which imagines an alternate history for Shakespeare’s tragic heroine — are ongoing hits, but far more musicals have flamed out. The industry is looking with some trepidation toward next month, when a large crop of new shows is set to open.

Many nonprofit theaters around the country are also struggling [see “Theater in America Is Facing a Crisis as Many Stages Go Dark” by Michael Paulson (New York Times, 24 July 2023), posted on ROT in “A Crisis In America’s Theaters”] — attracting fewer subscribers and producing fewer shows — and some have closed. One bright spot has been the touring Broadway market, which has been booming.

michael paulson

Sales for the biggest pop concerts increased by 65 percent.

After a fitful recovery, the pop touring industry has now reached record highs, enabled by superstar tours, pent-up fan demand and ever-higher ticket prices.

The top 100 tours around the world generated $9.2 billion in ticket sales last year — a record by far, according to the trade publication Pollstar, which tracks touring data. That was up an astonishing 65 percent from 2019. The average ticket price last year was $131, up 23 percent from 2022, which accounts for some of the jump. Concert attendance climbed about 18 percent last year, to 70 million.

Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour was the biggest of many success stories, estimated at just over $1 billion in ticket sales, a new high (with dozens of dates still to come in 2024). According to numbers crunched by Pollstar, Swifties paid an average of $239 per ticket to see her show.

Not every artist is celebrating the post-pandemic touring boom, though. Those who operate below the level of arenas and amphitheaters — and lack the promotional apparatus of a Swift or a Beyoncé — have been sounding an alarm about skyrocketing costs, and continuing supply-chain issues, that have eroded profit margins and made touring riskier and more expensive for non-superstars.

ben sisario

There are 4,800 fewer movie screens.

Thanks to “Barbie,” “The Super Mario Bros. Movie” and “Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse,” the 2023 domestic box office, which includes the United States and Canada, took in close to $9 billion. That’s a marked increase from 2022 but still not at prepandemic levels, when theaters reliably sold $11 billion in tickets annually.

Fewer films were released in 2023: There were 125 wide releases, down from 138 in 2019, said David A. Gross, a film consultant who publishes a newsletter [FranchiseRe (https://franchisere.substack.com/)] on box office numbers. Some films were delayed by the writers’ and actors’ strikes, which shut down Hollywood for close to six months [2 May-27 September 2023 and 14 July-9 November 2023, respectively.]

The number of screens across the country has also declined. Some independent theater chains like Pacific Theaters and ArcLight Cinemas went out of business. And the top three U.S. chains, AMC, Regal and Cinemark, shut about 1,000 screens collectively, according to David Hancock, the chief analyst for cinema at Omdia, a London-based research company. He said that at the end of 2023, there were 36,369 screens in the country, down 12 percent from the 41,172 screens before the shutdown.

nicole sperling

Orchestra ticket sales are up 2 percent, yet some opera companies struggle.

Many orchestras are beginning to return to, or even exceed, prepandemic levels. The number of tickets that orchestras sold increased by 2 percent in 2023 compared with 2019, according to a study of 42 medium- and large-size orchestras by TRG Arts, an analytics firm, in partnership with the League of American Orchestras. Some continue to struggle, though, and some are giving fewer performances than they used to.

The Philadelphia Orchestra is averaging 78 percent attendance so far this season, compared with 63 percent before the pandemic. The New York Philharmonic, which completed a $550 million renovation of its hall in 2022 that made it more audience-friendly and reduced its seating capacity, is averaging 85 percent attendance this season compared with 74 percent before the pandemic. The San Francisco Symphony has had 74 percent attendance so far this season, slightly ahead of where it was before the shutdown, but it has fewer performances. The Los Angeles Philharmonic is now averaging 89 percent attendance, back where it was before the pandemic, even as the number of subscribers has fallen to 6,409 from 8,791.

But the Detroit Symphony Orchestra said that its attendance had fallen to 59 percent through March this season, down from 74 percent in the same period during the 2019-20 season, a drop it attributed to a loss of subscribers who have yet to return.

Many opera companies have had a hard time, as the cost of staging live opera — which requires sets, costumes, singers, chorus members and large orchestras — has risen. Ticket revenues at opera houses across the nation were down by about 22 percent last season compared with 2018-19, according to a recent study by Opera America, a nonprofit group, which said that so far this season, revenues are up.

At the Metropolitan Opera in New York, paid attendance is about 73 percent so far this season, compared with 71 percent at the same point in 2019-20, when fears of the pandemic were already beginning to keep operagoers away. And the Met now gives fewer performances overall. The pandemic has seriously strained the Met’s finances: The company has withdrawn about $70 million from its endowment over the past two seasons.

Many leading dance companies have largely bounced back from the disruption brought by Covid. Attendance at New York City Ballet so far this season is at 79 percent, compared with 73 percent before the pandemic, and San Francisco Ballet is at 78 percent attendance, compared with 66 percent in the 2019-20 season.

javier c. hernández

Museum attendance is mixed.

While some major museums have been able to regain lost ground, others are still seeing fewer visitors, which continues to strain their already-stretched finances.

The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York reported nearly 861,000 visitors last year, a 26 percent decline from about 1.2 million visitors before the pandemic, when its Hilma af Klint exhibition [12 October 2018-23 April 2019] set new attendance records. The Metropolitan Museum of Art has seen a 15 percent decline over the same period, to 5.8 million visitors from 6.8 million, which could be partially attributed to the loss of its Met exhibition space at the Breuer building on Madison Avenue. And the Art Institute of Chicago said that attendance had also decreased by about 15 percent since the shutdown with about 1.3 million visitors in 2023, saying that while it now has more paid local visitors than it did before the pandemic, there are still fewer international visitors.

[The Met Breuer closed in July 2020 for budgetary reasons and the building was turned over to the Frick Collection while its Upper East Side home underwent expansion. The Frick vacated the Madison Avenue building on 3 March 2024 and it will be a facility of Sotheby’s auction house in September.]

Some regional organizations — relying more on local populations than international tourists — have seen stronger comebacks. The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston said that it had experienced a 20 percent increase in visitors over the last fiscal year when compared to prepandemic levels. “We have also witnessed a change in the demographics of our audience, with a larger percentage of younger visitors, which bodes well for the future,” said Gary Tinterow, the museum’s director and chairman.

And the Hammer Museum in Los Angeles, which completed a renovation project last year, said that it attracted a record 277,882 visitors last year, up from 240,706 in 2019.

Zachary Small and Robin Pogrebin

Sports fans are back.

Sports fans are back. All four major sports leagues — the National Football League, the National Basketball Association, Major League Baseball and the National Hockey League — had bigger attendance in their most recent regular seasons than they did in 2019, according to a calculation of the leagues’ data by The Times.

The N.F.L. saw the sharpest increase: 18.9 million people in 2023, up 10.9 percent from the 17 million people in 2019. That is in part because the league added a game to the regular-season schedule in 2021 as part of a new media-rights package. That bumped the total number of games played in a season from 256 to 272.

Attendance for Major League Baseball increased 3.2 percent last season compared with its last full season before the pandemic.  The National Basketball Association had a 1.2 percent increase and the National Hockey League had a 1.1 percent increase.

Emmanuel Morgan

[This post is also the most recent entry in another ad hoc series: the effect of the COVID pandemic on the theater and the theater’s response to the crisis.  Other posts on that topic are:

•   “Theaters Go Dark Across the Nation,” 29 March and 1 April 2020

   “Suzan-Lori Parks on the Covid Pandemic,” 17 May 2020

   “Theater Online – A Preliminary Report” by Kirk Woodward and Rick, 19 May 2020

   “‘Connecting through art when a pandemic keeps us apart’” by Jeffrey Brown, 26 June 2020

   “Yo Yo Ma on the Artist’s Role in the Time of Covid-19,” 28 August 2020

   “‘Medical professionals turn to music as a tonic’” by Jeffrey Brown and Anne Azzi Davenport, 22 September 2020

   “‘At this Virginia theater, the show – and the masks – must go on’” by John Yang, et al., 18 October 2020

   “‘Despite the Pandemic, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like “Christmas Carol’” by Jerald Raymond Pierce, 27 December 2020

   “‘Waiting out a pandemic – and for our “King Lear”’” by Peter Marks, 11 January 2021

   “The Show Goes On During the Pandemic,” 26 January 2021

   “‘Great Performances’: The Arts Interrupted” produced and directed by Akisa Omulepu, 3 and 6 June 2021

   “‘As Attendance Falls, Now Is the Winter of Broadway’s Discontent’” by Michael Paulson, 23 January 2022

   “At the Theater: To Wear A Mask, Or Not To Wear A Mask,” 27 June 2022

[In addition, there are many other posts in which Covid, the coronavirus, the pandemic, and/or the shutdown gets a mention.]


06 July 2021

The Real-Time Event

 

[I’ve written a number of articles based on the theater ideas of Leonardo Shapiro, whom readers of Rick On Theater will probably know by now was a “downtown” experimental theater director whom I knew at the end of his life in the late ’80s and early ’90s.  One of the central ideas of Leo’s theater, put into practice in his productions with the company he started and ran, The Shaliko Company, was the Real-Time Event.  

[One of the two or three most important notions of Leo’s theatrical technique, it was present in almost all his Shaliko productions.  I hope my discussion makes clear what Leo meant by this term because the principal reason I was so interested in his work after I saw his production of The Yellow House in Baltimore at the Theatre of Nations in 1986, was that he had these ideas about which he’d thought for years that he was trying to make practical on a stage.  He wasn’t just putting on a show.  He had things he really wanted to accomplish. 

[That really impressed me.]

Antonin Artaud (1896-1948), widely recognized as one of the major figures of 20th-century theater and the European avant-garde, disparaged “storytelling psychology [which] has been exerted in bringing to life on the stage plausible but detached beings, with the spectacle on one side, the public on the other.”

Each spectacle will by its very nature become a kind of event.  The spectator must have the sense that what is being performed in front of him is a scene from his own life, and an important scene at that.

In short, we ask of our audience an intimate and profound involvement. . . .  With each spectacle we put on, we are playing a serious game.  Unless we are determined to follow our principle wherever they may lead us, we do not feel the game is worth playing.

These statements are an excellent introduction to the “real-time event,” one of the central aspects of the theater of Leonardo Shapiro (1946-97), the avant-garde director on whom I’ve written many times now on Rick On Theater.  Artaud was an important influence on Jerzy Grotowski (1933-99), the Polish theater director and theorist whose innovative approaches to acting, actor training, and theatrical production were a significant influence on Shapiro.

Shapiro founded his experimental theater troupe, The Shaliko Company, in 1972.  Their first production was Children of the Gods, a composite of Aeschylus’ (ca. 525/524-ca. 456/455 BCE) Agamemnon and Euripides’ (ca. 480-ca. 406 BCE) Electra, Orestes, and Iphigenia in Aulis which premiered in 1973. 

With Children of the Gods, Shaliko began exploring what Shapiro would call the “real-time event”—what actually happens at a performance while the audience is in the room—a concept obviously heavily dependent on the audience-performer relationship.  If the actors present themselves as people like the spectators, doing actual things in real time, then, Shapiro hoped, the audience would become part of the event by making connections between actions that previously appeared unrelated. 

Even before he formed his New York City company, the young director was quoting Grotowski: “The theatre is an act carried on HERE AND NOW in the actors organism, in front of other men . . . . ”  The rest of Grotowski’s statement asserts that “theatrical reality is instantaneous, not an illustration of life,” linking the audience and the performers in one actual experience.

To bring the spectators and the actors into closer contact was the goal Shapiro had for Shaliko’s work.  In many of Shapiro’s productions, he placed actors in or near the audience, turned the auditorium lights on during the performance, had actors address the spectators directly, and enlisted the audience’s participation in aspects of the performances.

Let me back up a little.  After finishing his Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in directing at New York University’s School of the Arts, he took off for the West Coast.  He stopped for lunch one day in Taos, New Mexico . . . and stayed for over a year-and-a-half.  He formed a guerrilla theater troupe that roamed the Four Corners.

He returned to New York City in March 1971 and started forming Shaliko.  He sought out the actors he had known at NYU and put Shaliko together in January 1972.  The troupe spent time “developing skills” through exercises and games.  Actor Christopher McCann (b. 1952), an early member of the ensemble, recalled that exercises heightened his sensitivity to the space in which they were working, and to the other actors.  It taught the actors that “there was more at work than just what you see.”

This echoes NYU circus-arts teacher Hovey Burgess’s belief that “[t]he actor has to be aware of the reality of what he is doing without knowing the result.”  Circus work had been a long-time interest of Shapiro’s and it was visible in much of his work with Shaliko till the end.

Circus performance is an immediate form: what the observer sees, as Burgess (b. 1940) pointed out, is what’s happening at that moment.  While conventional theater artists create illusions, Burgess believed, “Circus is more real.”

“The audience in the theatre must imagine objects and relationships,” said Burgess, referring to conventional Western performances.  “In the circus, there are real relationships to people and objects . . . .”  These ideas of immediacy and reality, which Burgess called “authentic,” played significant roles in Shaliko performance goals.

After a year, however, the demand to produce became “pretty intense.”  They explored several different potential pieces and settled on the Greeks.  It isn’t surprising that these Greek plays would attract Shapiro’s attention. 

“[T]he story of the House of Atreus spoke directly to us,” averred Shapiro; “it was amazingly credible, especially at its most extreme moments.  Our war [in Vietnam] was ending and our half million Orestes and Electra[s], ready for action, were coming home.”  (The Paris peace treaty was signed in January 1973, one week before Children opened.)

Shapiro’s main goal was “to use the devices of the theater to heighten the experience of the present moment” in which the spectators and actors share in some immediate way the live performance event.  His aim was to make what was happening on stage as “authentic” as the life the audience was living off stage.

In rehearsals for Karen Malpede’s Blue Heaven (see my post on 11 and 14 May 2020), his last show in New York (1992), for example, Shapiro told the cast, “The play is set a year ago, but the production is happening now.  We here in this room are doing this now.”  

“[D]eveloping a piece with the audience,” Shapiro declared as if responding to the contention of Vsevolod Meyerhold (1874-1940), the Russian actor, director, and theorist who’s probably the godfather of Western avant-garde theater, that the spectator is “a fourth creator” in the production, “is as important as developing a piece for the audience.”  

“We intend the audience not merely to observe,” said Meyerhold, “but to participate in a corporate creative act.”  (Meyerhold used “corporate” here, of course, to mean “collective”; it had nothing to do with business enterprises.)

According to Shapiro, the work with Shaliko

redefined the roles of the actors and the audience, vis à vis each other as well as vis à vis themselves: it not only changes how one actor relates to another actor, but how either of them might relate to the audience; it also changes how the members of the audience might relate to each other, so it creates a very different kind of dynamic. 

Indeed, the playwright Mac Wellman (b. 1945) posits a “Lockean-Rousseauian contract” between the performers and the spectators that Shapiro recognized as precisely analogous to the social contract which he understood to exist between a government and the governed (see my profile of Wellman, 4 February 2017).  In fact, the company clearly stated so in a promotional brochure a few years after its founding:

The Company sees itself as representing both the author and the audience.  In our work, we become the meeting ground for the challenge/response transaction between the text and our peers, and fashion this transaction into a structured dramatic form which invites participation.

The company maintained that their consideration of the connection between the performer and the spectator came from an “absolute respect for the intellectual and emotional maturity of the audience” and, in the terms of the implied contract, each party bears part of the responsibility for creating the performance and Shapiro was determined that the actors would not break this contract as he had seen that the state had broken that other social agreement with him. 

If the audience abides by the terms, together they and the actors will interact to produce a theatrical experience unique to that particular time and place.  Ideally, Shapiro explained to the young cast of his last show, The Seagull by Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) in Albuquerque in 1996, the process works as a kind of “transaction.” 

The actor speaks to the audience through the character, “establishing the basic relationship of performances, [the] human-human relationship” as opposed to a character-character or performer-performer connection, the director clarified. 

The actor, Shapiro continued, thus “teaches” the audience how to see the circumstances—then the audience reacts and that teaches the actor what’s working and on what level.  When the actor responds to the audience’s reaction by perhaps playing differently than he did at other performances before other spectators, the cycle starts again.

As Rose Mary Mechem, a journalist for Sports Illustrated and former theater student, attested in The Nation, Shaliko could be very successful at this tactic, however daunting it might have been:

For many people it is a threatening experience.  You go to the theatre, a paying guest, expecting a little diversion, and suddenly you’re asked to look alive, to participate, to commit yourself.  You are no longer in a sanctuary, safe and alone with your own thoughts.  Your brain has been mugged.  Your sense of individual freedom and privacy has been rudely assaulted.  But that, it turns out, is exactly what the evening is all about: you are asked to sit in judgment over the case . . . . 

It’s daunting from the performer’s perspective, too.  As actress Robbie McCauley (b. 1942), who had no trouble with the open-ended explorations into which Shapiro led his casts, experienced it, “That’s the part that’s scary. . . . .  It’s like being on a tightrope . . . because you’re with the audience and you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Having reached out and transformed the mass of individual spectators, each with separate concerns and distractions, into an audience, it was Shaliko’s goal to make that audience part of the ensemble.  This technique takes time, of course; it can’t happen until the actors confront their audience and forge the contract.  Since that didn’t occur in the Shaliko process until after rehearsals, Shapiro demanded previews. 

Circumstances didn’t always permit that to happen as planned.  The actor-spectator interplay in the 1992 revival of Kafka: Father and Son by Russian playwright-director Mark Rozovsky (b. 1937) didn’t develop, for instance, until the second week of performances (report posted on 5 and 8 November 2015).  The psychical distance between the performers and the audience was closed later in the run, and audiences at the last performances were visibly affected by the experience. 

Shapiro’s concern with connecting The Shaliko Company’s performances with its audiences was not only a function of his connection with Grotowski, Brecht, Artaud, Meyerhold, and circus.  Shapiro also named among his influences French filmmaker-psychologist Guy Debord (1931-94) and the Situationists, a revolutionary art and political movement active between 1957 and 1972 (see my post on 3 February 2012). 

Application of a number of Situationist notions could be found in Shaliko work.  In terms of connecting performers with spectators, the Situationist parallel was very strong.  It went to the heart of Situationist philosophy, indeed to the very origins of the name.

In “Report on the Construction of Situations and on the International Situationist Tendency’s Conditions of Organization and Action,” a 1957 essay, Debord described the life of the ordinary citizen as dull and predictable, dictated for him by a society which has become reduced to what he called a “Spectacle”: little more than a sham dressed in the trappings of living. 

To change this world, Debord and the Situationists proposed organizing “situations,” which he defined as “the concrete construction of momentary ambiances of life and their transformation into a superior passional quality,” a kind of installation-cum-Happening.  Debord’s idea was to get people involved in their own lives again. 

In popular culture, Debord alleged, the passive spectators are led to identify with the hero so that they will live through the fictional figure and not themselves become active.  Getting the spectators to take an active role in their own lives defeats this societal control mechanism, leading eventually, the Situationists hoped, to revolution and the downfall of the “Society of the Spectacle.” 

Theatrical performances which draw their audiences into a communal act in the hope that something transformative, even revolutionary, will result, rather than separate passive audience from active performer, are surely as Situationist as anything Debord had conceived.  As Shapiro stated it:

I’m actively trying to subvert the official view of reality and help people make different connections which would lead them to construct a different reality. . . . .  What I want to do is make people understand some of the connections between events that they don’t ordinarily understand—that are hidden from them by the official reality . . . .

“The work of the theatre,” wrote Julian Beck (1925-85), founder with his wife Judith Malina (1926-2015) of the Living Theatre—which introduced Shapiro to theater when he was a teenager—“has to do with activating the people by restoring the ability to think and feel freely . . . .” 

Artaud cautioned, however, that we must ask ourselves “whether we will be able to find an audience capable of giving us the necessary minimum of confidence and trust, capable, in short, of joining forces with us.  For, unlike writers or painters, we cannot do without an audience; indeed, the audience becomes an integral part of our undertaking.” 

The audience may not always cooperate, insisting on being emotionally manipulated or even dismissing the whole experience because it doesn’t conform to the way they presume a work of theater should affect them.  Audiences, Shapiro acknowledged,

may insist on imposing familiar fictions to prevent themselves from having to actually encounter these people or enter into a direct, immediate dialogue with them.  I can’t make them not do that.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.

This was Shaliko’s on-going challenge and is almost precisely echoed in Mac Wellman’s notion of the “real-event.”  In contrast to the “non-event” of the conventional theater, Wellman defined this in terms analogous to the way Hovey Burgess described circus performances: “events proper, more or less intriguing, more or less revelatory of the human condition, more or less engrossing.” 

Wellman also connected this idea to Brecht when he wrote that the principal aim of theater is “to make something happen, show forth for what it is, in a given space.”  For Shapiro, as he explained to the young cast of Seagull, “the gel of performance . . . is a transaction . . . between you and the audience.”

The real-time technique is related, too, to Grotowskian theory, which posits that for the actor, who, in contrast to Meyerhold, is the “direct creator” of the performance analogous to the poet or the painter, “the immediate act . . . must exist during the performance.”  

As Grotowski explained to Shapiro and his classmates in a 1967 NYU workshop, the fundamental requirement of acting is responding honestly to the impulses the actors feel while they are performing.  “That is,” Shapiro interpreted Grotowski’s principle, “the theatre does not represent an event, it is an event of consciousness.” 

Shaliko actress Mary Zakrzewski, who played the Chief Commissioner who questioned the audience in Shaliko’s second production, Brecht’s The Measures Taken (1974-75), confirmed the director’s assertion: “You start to develop a relationship with the audience.  They are very personal, real relationships,” she specified in language that echoes Burgess’s, “that are only there for an hour.”

The explorations of the real-time experience, the theater as thought-provoker, and the involvement of the audience in the performance event all had their most undiluted expression in the production of The Measures Taken, one of Brecht’s Lehrstücke (‘teaching plays’). 

To see if the work was clear, Shapiro decided to have the Chief Commissioner interrupt the action five times “within carefully specified slots during the production” to ask the spectators if the Young Comrade’s actions were right. 

“Since this is a learning play,” the Commissioner told the audience, “we are asking you to represent students, and from time to time during the production we will ask you questions about what you have seen.”  This procedure followed Brecht’s own instruction that “[w]herever he feels he can,” the Epic actor “breaks off” the performance “in order to give explanations.”

These sessions became a posing of “questions about ends and means,” alluding indirectly to issues like the then-current Patty Hearst (b. 1954) kidnapping (4 February 1974-18 September 1975) and the radical political activities of the Weather Underground. 

(For those who are too young to be familiar with these historical references to the ’60s and ’70s, Patricia “Patty” Hearst was taken from her Berkeley, California, apartment on 4 February 1974.  The Symbionese Liberation Army demanded her father, publisher Randolph A. Hearst [1915-2000], give millions to the poor.  

(Hearst was identified by the FBI as taking part in a San Francisco bank holdup on 15 April; on 18 September 1975, the FBI captured her and others in San Francisco and they were indicted on various charges.  She was convicted of bank robbery on 20 March 1976 but she was released from prison under executive clemency by President Jimmy Carter [b. 1924; in office: 1977-81] on 1 February 1979. 

(A radical group who had broken with the Students for a Democratic Society and called themselves the Weathermen changed their name in 1969 to the Weather Underground.  [The original name came from the Bob Dylan song “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” which contains the words, “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.”]  The Weather Underground planted bombs to protest the continuing war in Vietnam.)

As one might imagine, some discussions worked better than others, but Rose Mary Mechem noted that the production did what Shapiro wanted:

The message in The Measures Taken is enigmatic.  The individual, viewing it, is at the mercy of his own subjective impressions.  The audience, as a collective, provides a kaleidoscope of insights, finding freshness in dogma, ambivalences hidden in rote, passion beneath rhetoric and humanity in revolution.  The didactic becomes the dialectic.

What the audience experienced depended, Shapiro noted, on the amount of responsibility they took “for making connections and doing something about them.”    “[T]here were nights when the discussions were so hot,” Shapiro recalled, “that there’d be as much time spent on the discussion as the performance.”

Playwright and actor Wallace Shawn (b. 1943, a longtime friend of Shapiro’s and supporter of Shaliko, deemed the presentation “a very powerful, very clear, lucid presentation of a very political play . . . which was certainly very clarifying.”  Papp, himself, praised Shaliko’s work on “Brecht’s difficult piece” for its “insight, artistry and commitment.”

Unrehearsed and unregulated, the real-time event could vary the length of the performance by as much as an hour either way, but without changing what Shapiro called its “score.”  The real-time event in this variable and aleatory way added an aspect of the Happening, a component of Shaliko’s performances that would remain, however subtle.

Because The Measures Taken was deliberately different at every performance, the cast confronted “the problems of spontaneity and form” every night.  “They had to learn to go back and forth instantly from rehearsed, choreographed sections to the completely unrehearsed, improvised sections in every performance,” the director explained.

Shaliko toured Pennsylvania with Measures, including several union halls and prisons.  “The audience discussions were totally different in the prisons than at the Public,” recalled Shapiro.  “They’re [i.e., the prisoners] really concerned with these issues in a very immediate way.  The questions of ends and means and radical activity and who got the gun: these are all questions they’re familiar with.  It isn’t theory to them.” 

The prisoners, Shapiro saw, understood that they had to find answers for themselves in order to survive.  “The show provided fable, catechism and forum to a population denied all access to reality. . . . .  Every night the audience went out arguing with each other.”

Though Shapiro’s use of real time eventually got more subtle than the direct address to the audience, and in later work he never returned to the overt use of it that appeared in early Shaliko productions, it was still a practice to which Shapiro came back again and again in his work and in discussions. 

Henrik Ibsen’s (1828-1906) Ghosts (1975) was Shaliko’s first show in which the actors didn’t play directly to the audience (report posted on 6 September 2014).  In Children and Measures, the spectators were acknowledged presences for the actors—they were the gods to the actors’ Greeks in Children and students being indoctrinated in party practice in Measures—but in Ghosts, there was no substantive contact between the spectators and the actors. 

This form of audience-performer interaction became the norm for Shaliko productions, a direct parallel to Grotowski’s practice, though sometimes the spectators of both Grotowski’s performances and Shapiro’s didn’t recognize their roles. 

In The Yellow House (1985), for instance, Shaliko’s play about painter Vincent van Gogh (1853-90), the audience was supposed to stand in for Theo van Gogh (1857-91), the painter’s brother, but the relationship was never acknowledged (report posted on 9 February 2018).  (In the first version, in fact, an actor portrayed Theo from a microphone behind the audience, who never saw him.  “I was very much after the idea of making the audience identify with Theo,” Shapiro said.) 

In Ghosts, the spectators were the unacknowledged spirits of the Alving house, and Shapiro saw the play as a séance, which helps explain his emphasis on scenes which were not so much seen as overheard, a tactic that disturbed some critics.

In a statement of the company’s purpose and goals, which alluded to his circus influence, he wrote: “Shaliko’s actors focus on the present, they improvise, they react to the moment with the concentration of a tight-rope walker, living the emotion of the present, not of a past evoked with artifice.”

Former Living Theatre actor George Bartenieff (b. 1933), who was a member of the cast of Blue Heaven and played Hermann Kafka, the father, in the 1992 revival, compared the experience to the Living’s production of The Brig (1963), in which he had appeared: “It’s like living the experience, not just pretending.” 

Shapiro stipulated, however, that while he’d still striven to make the “transaction between the actor and the audience a real event,” he’d no longer allowed the actors all the time they wanted; it had to happen “in the equivalent of dramatic time.”  He was fascinated by the difference between real and theatrical time, he said, and kept looking for ways “to make something a real event in the theatre.”

Also starting with Children, Shapiro, invoking the actor-audience contract, made “the audience the active participant that connects the dots,” his application of great Russian stage and film director and film theorist Sergei Eisenstein’s (1898-1948) Theory of Attractions as Shapiro understood it from Meyerhold (see my article on 31 January 2010). 

As New Leader critic Albert Bermel (1927-2013) noted, “Around and above the playing area . . . stretches a rectangle of scaffolding with plushy mattresses.  Loafing on them, spectators unavoidably become the gods looking down on their would-be worshipers,” with, as Shapiro put it, “the actors . . . always doing everything for the audience hoping the audience would love them and give them favor.” 

It is also another tenet of Mac Wellman’s poetic theater, paralleling Shaliko, that the performance contract draws the spectator and the performer together in an experience that “recapitulates . . . the actual creative moment” because it highlights choices and the “audience is always involved with choice per se; is always confronted with a delectiary of potential choices, aesthetic, ethical, and ultimately political.” 

In what Shapiro called “a wrestling match with the passivity of the audience,” Shaliko strove to “enter into a relationship” with its audience “and try to get them to play their parts.”  This precept can also be traced back to Grotowski and Shapiro’s earliest contacts with him.  At the time of the Theater Laboratory’s first New York visit (October-December 1969), Grotowski pointedly invoked Polish actor and director Juliusz Osterwa (1885-1947), his only acknowledged antecedent, who he said “treated acting as a human experience that exists not for the public, but vis-à-vis the public.