why theatre professionals never sit in the front row

Sydney

From today's Sydney Morning Herald review of a local production of Heiner Müller's Anatomy Titus, Fall of Rome:

Based on Titus Andronicus, Shakespeare's most bloodthirsty tragedy, the script by the German playwright Heiner Muller [sic] breaks up the original text with poetic commentary about the futility of war. The Sydney audience will receive the message in particularly graphic fashion; the shape of the Opera House stage means blood flies off the set and on to those in the front row.

"But don't worry, it washes straight off in an ordinary spin cycle," said the stage manager, Peter Sutherland.

I guess we won't be going out for drinks after the show.

In one of my former lives, I did a PhD in theatre and spent many days in "black boxes," theatres so tiny that mishurled blood might as easily hit the back row as the front.  Last night, walking home through Sydney's arts-and-warehouse district of Surry Hills, I took a back street and noticed a man standing up ahead, gazing at me expectantly.  As I approached he asked "Are you here for the performance?"  He was facing an open door in a nondescript industrial building, with very small-print newspaper articles pasted up in it -- reviews, no doubt.  We were the only two people on the entire street, and there was no sign of anyone inside.

I was him once.  I could still be him -- he was about my age.  I don't think for a moment that my choices were better than his.  And yet the desperation of microtheatre and startup theatre and the black box in general feels like another era right now. 

"No, I'm sorry, just walking home."

"Are you sure, mate?"

Sigh.  Don't ask me that.  I'm never sure.  In fact, it was my years in theatre that knocked all the sureness out of me.  All I could do was keep walking, and hope I hadn't just turned down a life-changing offer from the angel of sincerity.

Comments

[Teresa]

Oh, Jarret, what a great post. I wept and laughed simultaneously at the end.

Thanks.

T.

[Denis Wilson]

I must admit I assumed, (at first) it was a strip show, not theatre, which you passed by. The loneliness of good performers performing to empty seats is nicely indicated in your excellent post.
Denis

[Miss Bliss]

It's like all drugs...no matter how much they fuck you up, you still miss them when you aren't doing them. When you are doing it you are always chasing those rare moments when it all works, when everyone is transformed and everyone is a part of the art that is created. The rest of the time...you're standing outside an empty theatre knowing that there's a whole cast and crew inside hoping against hope that SOMEONE will come in to play the part of the audience...