It’s not a proper theatre experience!

I suppose I’ve always been a bit of a purist when it comes to live performances. From music to dance to theatre, I’ve always thought the best way to experience these things is to be there in person. That was until I was persuaded to go to our local entertainment venue recently to see Arthur Miller’s All My Sons screened live from The Old Vic. Now it’s not my intention, in this blog post, to review the play itself, although it was superb. But I wondered if my reaction to it had anything to do with the way I was watching it.

I had no idea what to expect. But one thing I was sure about was that it was not going to be as good as the real thing. So when I walked in and could hear, through the speakers, the sounds of the audience arriving at the Old Vic hundreds of miles away in London, the place that I hadn’t had to travel to in order to see the play, I was a little surprised. This is not going to be a proper theatre experience, I thought, as I spotted cream teas being served up at the kiosk, curtesy of a volunteer, and no queue. But I’d got side-tracked. My husband was already at the bar, also with no queue, ordering two gin and tonics and nuts. We made our way to our pre-booked table, from different directions, and spread our goodies out in front of us.

Staring up at the screen, we watched as people battled to get to their seats, forcing more organised, disgruntled theatre-goers, in the middle of a rows, to struggle to their feet with their belongings in their arms in order to make way for the late comers. This is definitely not a proper theatre experience, I thought, as we listened to Kirsty Wark introduce the play exclusively to those viewing through live screening, giving lots of useful background information about what we were about to see. Behind her the battle for seats continued with more urgency, as curtain-up time approached.

The lights in the Old Vic and our local venue dimmed and the play began. Now this is where things really differed from what I’ve experienced before. Depending on what seats you’ve managed to get hold of, I think it’s fair to say that you rarely get a ‘perfect’ view of the stage from any of them. In the stalls, if you’re short like me, you are vulnerable to the arrival of a tall person with big hair sitting in front of you. This results in the neck wrenching necessity to keep moving your head from side to side in order to catch a glimpse of different parts of the stage. You can say goodbye to ever seeing the whole stage at any time.

If you’re lucky enough to be in the circles, then you may well have an uninterrupted view of the stage, but it’s so far away from you that the action seems very remote. This is not a proper theatre experience, I thought, as the camera zoomed in on the set, leaving the live screeners in a prime position, as if they were on the stage with the actors. Close ups provided even more intimacy. We saw every expression, every emotion throughout the whole play. At one very dramatic part of the performance, the four main characters were all crying. We saw their tears glistening in the spotlights.

Then there was the sound. Often in a proper theatre, the actors do not always project their voices enough, they do not have the same vocal strength and some actually mumble. However, with the characters being miked up for the live screening, we had no such problems and heard every word, every sigh and every whisper throughout the entire performance.

With a play as emotional and powerful as this, the quality of both the view and the sound left us stunned at the end. As the actors took their bows, it was possible to see, in their faces, the toll that the performance had taken on them. Colin Morgan, in particular, looked fit to drop. It made me truly appreciate the art of the actor. Meanwhile, oblivious to the actors’ plight, the live audience began to fight their way out of the auditorium.

So was there anything that I missed from not being there in person watching the play? Well, yes, there was. Theatres like the Old Vic are very exciting and stimulating places to be in. I missed the wait for the play to begin, looking around at the décor and the plush surroundings. I missed the ‘specialness’ of going out for a night at the theatre, getting dressed up. I missed the buzz of anticipation from the audience all around me, just before the play begins when the lights go down.

It had its pros and cons, but I was very pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. So next week I shall be booking a table for the next live screening which is a play based on one of my favourite novels, Small Island by Andrea Levy.

Photo by Monica Silvestre at Pexels