Now, it is fairly well known that my ideas on theatre differ slightly from others'. Kevin and I have had many an argument on the play as artistic expression vs. the play as entertainment. The thing is, we're both right. It all just comes down a bit to semantics.
Theatre is here to entertain people, but that doesn't mean that we are only entertained when it is goofy, or comedic, or making us smile. To entertain is also to give attention or consideration to something like an idea or a feeling. And while this definition is considered in an introspective context, I think it is something that can also be projected outward. As artists, actors, writers, and directors, we are trying to convey an idea or a feeling to an audience: to "entertain" them. That's where the artistic expression comes in. We want to tell the audience what we want to tell them. We want to express ourselves, and invite the audience into our story. Without artistically expressing ourselves, we cannot truly entertain people.
I have never been a fan of catering to the audience. I think that people need to be challenged, and need to experience a whole world of different ideas and possibilities and beliefs and ways of doing things. By catering to the audience, one takes away an opportunity to grow. When one dumbs down the play because one thinks the audience won't understand, one is hurting both the art, and the audience. Rather than challenging them, making them ask, "Why is it happening like this? What is going on? How does this connect?" one is just giving them the answers. And perhaps, in the short run, this is for the best. The audience will leave satisfied and never give it a second thought. But if those questions aren't answered so easily, then it leaves them thinking. It is not so easily forgotten. It leaves them wanting more.
This was one of the tragedies of the show Trafford Tanzi at Greystone this year. After all was said and done, it was the "entertainment" that I despise so much; empty entertainment, I'll call it. For the whole show, the brain was entirely unnecessary. And I admit, I chanted along when I was supposed to, but not so much because I thought it would be fun. It was my role to do so as the audience was a part of the show. It was our duty as fellow actors to help the leading cast with our energy, lest we be labeled as a "bad audience." By the end, it was that empty entertainment, but not entertaining by making me think or feel. I didn't think or feel anything. And this is the problem with catering to the audience. One thinks, "Hey! This is a show about wrestling! Well, people are going to expect certain things, and they're going to want to be entertained! Let's do that and no more!" But, if something more had been brought to the table, it could have been just as entertaining for the masses (in the definition that most would consider), but still have left one with something more than this empty hole where ideas and feelings should be, and a regrettably lighter wallet.
I digress. This is just an example of my problem with theatre being used as empty entertainment. This is where artistic expression is so vitally important. One has to want to share an idea in order for theatre to be of any value. The playwright, the director, and the actor all need to have ideas and feelings to convey. Otherwise, the whole process is empty and meaningless. That's the key right there. As artists, we are doing what we are doing because it means something to us. It allows us to explore something within ourselves, within people, or beyond that. If we are creating empty entertainment, then our work will feel empty. And that is a dangerous thing.
If you're working as a cashier at Wal-Mart, you're not getting a lot out of your job. It doesn't make you feel like you're contributing something. You don't get a sense of fulfillment from telling someone that their selection of t-shirts will cost them $55 today. This is empty work. And when theatre becomes empty entertainment, it risks becoming empty work, too. Acting to pay the bills rather than something one can feel good about.
It can be argued that there is plenty of empty entertainment that makes a lot of money, and that actors do plenty of empty work, especially when they are first trying to make a name for themselves. Kevin (and others) would likely argue that the paying customers are very, very important for making theatre happen (which they are), and if they want empty entertainment, then we should give it to them. This is where I tell you that I am an idealist. We need to change things. We need to make people want more than emptiness. We need to eliminate empty entertainment. It will make everyone happier in the long run. That being said, I don't expect this to really happen. There has always been empty entertainment, and there always will be, but I say we fight against it rather than succumbing to it.
So, what I am saying in all of this, is that as Artistic Director for FLoYD Fest, I am committed to eliminating empty entertainment from the festival. That's not to say that you're play can't be fun or silly and that it has to be a very thought-provoking epic that will make me feel all the colours of the rainbow. What I'm saying, is that we will not be going into this thinking about what the audience wants. We will be asking what does the audience needs. The audience needs to see the actors. The audience needs to enjoy themselves. The audience needs to think. The audience needs to feel. Even if the thoughts and feelings are simplistic, at least they are not empty. So, keep that in mind, everyone.
I have one other message I'd like to share. Beware of feedback. I first became concerned when I heard that Andrew was undergoing major edits to Tables because of some feedback he received. Now, I'm not about to tell you not to ask for feedback, or get feedback. By all means, seek out as many people as you can. Get as many contributions and opinions, and points of view as possible. But then, sort out the grain from the chaff. You need to know what it is that you are trying to do with your work. You need to have a strong vision of what it is you are creating, so that you can stay true to that vision.
Raymon Montalbetti told me before of his dislike for audience feedback on things like staged readings, or feedback from what I will call "random people." The problem is, these sources are not committed to your work and your ideas. They do not need to take the time or effort to understand what you are doing, and give criticism in light of that. Instead, they just criticize without regard. In a staged reading, one audience member can dominate the discussion, and their ideas will have no relevance to what you are trying to do.
Case and point: the staged reading for The Veil of Night. With that project, I wanted to create a non-linear, unravelling story where no one really knew what was going on until the very end. I wanted my hero-figure male lead to have a grey area, where he was not a shining beacon of morality. What was some of the feedback from the audience? The non-linear nature confused them, so instead of offering ways to clarify my choices in the style I chose, they suggested I put the play into two acts where all of the stuff that happens in the beginning happens in act one, and all of the stuff that happens at the end happens in act two, creating an easy-to-follow, perfectly linear story. One person said they didn't like how my hero-figure wasn't "good" enough, and I should have made him a better person.
There was some really good feedback, but because of this extra clutter, I have been unable to repair the piece yet. Now, imagine if I had instead worked with a few people who were committed to my ideas, and tried to help me find ways of making everything work within the boundaries to which I had dedicated myself. It would have been a far easier process. Now, I know that I need to separate the useful from the useless feedback, and I think I could have an easier go at it.
My point is, to Andrew and to everyone who is currently "in process" for their work, really think about the feedback you are getting. Are these fleeting opinions from someone who may not understand what you are doing, or is this a critique from someone who has taken the time and effort to comprehend what you are trying to accomplish? Are you catering to the audience, or are you allowing your ideas to be expressed? Consider it this way: pretend you are making a clay pot and you received two criticisms. One person tells you, "That looks stupid, you should make it a bowl." The other says, "It looks like your pot needs some work. Here's what you can do to fix it." To whom are you going to listen? You should work the same way when you receive feedback on your work for FLoYD.
