Theatre & Rock Show: Breaking Down (4th) Walls

I was rewatching a stream I found of the Passing Strange movie directed by Spike Lee.

Anyone reading this who knows me well knows that this show has a very special place in my heart, and has spurred many thoughts, considerations, possibilities, and theories in my head about the nature and potential of the art I aim to be a part of in this world.

Spike Lee placed a camera within the back wall of the set, so that one is looking at the action from behind, and can see the audience beyond the cast and musicians.

In one particularly shattering scene (shattering at least to me), Stew leads a song called "Keys (It's Alright)". This song slowly evolves beyond the stage, becoming a repetitiously infectious anthem that resonates within every inch of the theatre and begins to catch the audience in its spell.

When I saw the show live, the first five or so rows were on their feet for this song. Stew went down off the edge of the stage and had the first couple rows sing back his two-word refrain into the mic. People were standing up, singing, clapping, cheering; they were a part of the show. The energy, reached me in the 12th or 13th row, and even those sitting around me were moving and clapping, feeding into the wonderful energy of expression. We were all swimming in it.

Perhaps because of the film, perhaps because it was the last performance, and perhaps because of the quality of the performance that night (or any combination of the above), when this song happens in the film and the wall begins to break down between stage and audience, the entire theatre gets on their feet. Every single person is standing, waving their arms way up in the air, clapping their hands, and singing along with Stew and the cast and band. Every single person is joining in on the show.

I openly cried at this point. I suddenly knew that this sort of emotion, expression, and unification, even for just a moment, was what I wanted to devote my life to attempting to create.

Now, there is something worth analyzing in this specific instance: the nature of the show itself, which is a healthy and mutually supportive blending of narrative theatre and rock concert. It is the latter of these two forms that plays a huge role in accomplishing the very thing that I have identified as my artistic goal (though I am still having trouble articulating it any better than to point at that scene in the movie and say 'That. I want to do that.'). Any really spectacular rock show has this effect of reaching out and grabbing the audience, making them an active participant in the show. People get swept up by the pure, cathartic outpouring of electronically magnified sound, as well as the (hopefully) magical lighting effects and (even more hopefully) energized and gripping showmanship of the performers. This is Dionysian release at its best, in that even within a performance dichotomy between performer and observer, the observer feels like they are a part of the performance by actively feeding into the atmosphere and power of the performance. A community is created that ignores, even for a fleeting moment, the petty differences our society harps on each and every day, and we are united in the communal experience of "making a show" as an audience.

There are a lot of problems that come with considering theatre in relation to a rock show. Most apparently, it might be a little awkward for an audience member to get up and start cheering in the middle of a production of Pinter's "The Homecoming." Somehow, I feel that the pauses may lose something in such a circumstance. Additionally, I think crazy flying gobos jetting across the stage in rhythmic synchronization may be a little difficult to accept in "The Cherry Orchard."

I suggest that what can be learned from the example of the rock show, and the successful theatrical application in Passing Strange, is that one can see in both of these cases their respective audiences responding in a way that is appropriate and natural to the nature of the performance, and are the expression of an audience being truly engaged in a performance so that they essentially forget that there is a division between the performer and themselves. Rock shows, at least successful ones, do this on a regular basis, and have an easier time for reasons explored above. But the point I am here to make is that these rock shows, and their inherent effect with an audience, can inspire and propel us in our own arena of artistic discovery. Theatre has this same power, if we work at unlocking it. Jumping, shouting, singing are not requisite for this power. Immersion, complete engagement are.

A whole other essay could be written on what "complete engagement" really means, and if by saying this I am denying the credibility of the Brechtian approach to theatrical writing and performance. What I can say is that this is in no way the case. As suggested above, immersion means different things depending on the nature and purpose of the show, as well as what kind of impact the shapers of the production wish to have on their respective audiences. In a Brechtian production, complete immersion may in fact be complete awareness of "watching a play", yet at the same time complete engagement in the commentary and socio-political conversation that the play is working to provoke, as so much of Brecht's work aimed to do.

I want to strive for this shifting element of "complete engagement", whether Artaudian, Brechtian, or anywhere in between. I want to make the choice about what I am looking to reach for in my audience, and work toward actually reaching it, grabbing hold of it, and wringing every ounce of connection from it that I can. I want to, either figuratively or literally, bring my audience into the show; perhaps mentally, perhaps physically, perhaps both at the same time, depending. I want to create community the same way Passing Strange created community - by providing an audience with a shared moment or experience of unity and connection with each other and with what is being presented, so that differences are forgotten and all that remains in the moment is the moment itself, a moment of joint expression and engagement. If we can tap into these moments of unity, of community, and of connection and sameness amongst ourselves on a more regular basis, I truly believe this world would be and can be a better place. I believe theatre has the power to do it.

Will it? Who knows. Maybe not. But to me, its worth the effort.