Bill Stiteler does not want to see your play 08/06/2010 2:30pm

First things first: if you want to see An Adult Evening of Shel Silverstein, make a reservation. It's great and it's in the Rarig X-Box, which only seats 70 people. You have been notified.

I Just Became the Mayor of Fringe and They're Staging a Recall

Idiosynchronicity may well end up being the most controversial show of the Fringe. Not because of the content (which was a lot of fun and very nerdy), but because of the program notes. Rob Callahan, the author of the show, wasn't taking a stand on any political issues, he just wrote that it was okay for the audience to use personal electronic devices in a manner that didn't bother the other audience members. That it was okay for them to take photos, video, or Tweet during the show. Make no mistake, this is like a bomb going off. As a theater goer, my acceptable actions during most show are:

1. Sitting in silence
2. Clapping at the end
3. Laughter

And that's it. I'm not allowed to speak (though I love it when audience members vocalize honest reactions), and booing is right out. If I don't like a show, leaving is permitted but really I'm supposed to suffer in silence until the house lights come up. But this summer at the freaking cornerstones of Respectable Theeeee-ah-tah in Minnesota—the Guthrie and the Fitzgerald—I went to two shows that went out of their way to encourage people to pull out their iPhones, Androids, and Blackberries and live-Tweet the show, and saw it as a contribution to the event. The first was w00tstock, a combination of music and nerdiness where the artists were backstage reading the Tweets about the show, treating it as live feedback, and incorporating it into the show. The w00tstock performers—and this is going to kill ya—also released the entire show under a Creative Commons license, meaning that audience members were free to take non-flash pictures and video, and share them online. For free. The second show at the Fitz was from yet another MN institution: MPR's "Wits" program, which was also live-streamed as both audio and video during the program. The host, John Moe took a moment at the beginning to explain that they wanted people to Tweet the show, and if you saw someone with their cell phone out, don't get upset, they were contributing. Still, I think the NPR member next to me was getting unnerved. He looked so enraged I think he was about to write a very stern Letter to the Editor (joking!). The theory behind this is simple. Word of mouth. The best kind of advertising you can have. It gets people talking about the show. It gets people to experience the show. W00tstock charged $25 for a Guthrie seat when people could watch the whole thing on YouTube for free (along with all the previous show they've done), and they sold the place out. I found out about Wits because people I follow on Twitter had gone to previous shows. And I paid for both of these because they sounded like a hell of a lot of fun and seeing a live performance is better than watching a recording. So then, Tweeting at the Fringe.

Just watch the damn show!

I can hear the arguments already from people remember a time when people paid attention to the show they came to see, which, of course, misses the point—they are paying attention, unless they're talking about something else, in which case the show isn't holding their attention. It can be distracting, but then so can coughing or a crying baby, and no one seems to have the sense to take those out of the theater. I posit that cell phones get a lot less distracting (as a light source, not if they ring) provided you know that they are allowed. Now, beyond middle class rage, there are some other issues to consider. One is that the Fringe has a policy against audience members taking photos or video during the show. I was sitting next to the Fringe's Communication Director (and my co-head of Theatre Arlo) Matthew Foster at Idiosynchronicity last night, and he explained that this policy covers everyone (except Fringe photographers, who use special setups to minimize distractions) because it would be cumbersome to explain which shows allow pictures and which don't, especially for people who came in late. There are also legal concerns for artists who don't own the shows they're doing, or the music, or for members of Actors' Equity who aren't allowed to be videotaped during a performance (for fear that people will find the organization is made up entirely of vampires. Seriously. Sleep all day? Party every night? Never see them eat? Open your eyes, people!). But here's the thing. My phone is my camera. If I'm using it to Tweet or post to Facebook, I just have to tilt the screen slightly and I'm bang, my screen is a viewfinder. The iPhone 4 shoots high-def video that can be uploaded directly to YouTube. How will the Fringe adapt to this? If they take a position of no electronic devices at all during a show, they're potentially stepping between the producer and the audience, but also you run into the problem of enforcement? Do they wait for a notoriously passive-aggressive Minnesotan to go get an volunteer, or do they post volunteers in every show to police for illuminated screens? Do we start seeing little "t's" in the program denoting that a show is Twitter-friendly? If it's not, will it have the Fail Whale? One of my favorite theater-related moments is from a movie, appropriately enough. In A Midwinter's Tale a ragtag group of actors is doing Hamlet for Christmas, and as they're doing the duel at the end, the audience is screaming for blood like it's a wrestling match. The whole thing is so alive, and I have never seen a reaction like it outside of, well, a wrestling match. I want that. I want the audience to care that much, and I want them to share it. Social media is audience engagement. It is not becoming part, it is already. At rock shows, at clubs, at festivals, at revolutions people are using it to immediately communicate the things that are happening to them. But theater? It is so engrained in me that when I go to see theater, I need to sit quietly in the dark, laugh where appropriate, clap at the end, and save my thoughts till afterwards. I don't consider it oppressive, I consider it appropriate. But the potential for social media to connect with audience members is gnawing at the back of my brain. I honestly have no idea how this is going to play out. But this is going to be a big issue for not just the Fringe, but for theater in general, to grapple with. It's going to be a culture clash between those who see social media as an extension of interaction and those who have a legitimate justification of finding it distracting as hell. If we're lucky, this will start up a debate about audience interaction in the 21st century. If we're really lucky, it'll get people to shut the hell up about whether popular companies should be guaranteed spots or banned outright. (Side note: I ended up not tweeting during Idiosynchronicity because I was enjoying the storytelling so much I plum forgot.)

Today's schedule

A Nice Guy's Guide to Awkward Sex. I'm doing my version A Nice Guy's Guide to Giving Women the Creeps next year. The Anton Kissbougel Technique Yoga comedy. Strong preview sold me. My Mother Told Me. After this I will have 200% of my Daily Recommended Allowance of phillip low.
ROBO-homa! had a confusing preview but after having the premise described to me, I'm looking forward to it. Robots are the new zombies, it seems. Apologies to The Jack Chick Plays for bailing on them, but it was pointed out that Silverstein was probably going to sell out every show, so I grabbed the chance to see it.