It’s World Theatre Day. It’s a much-celebrated annual fête for the theatre community, created in part by UNESCO. It’s also the 50th year the day has been celebrated worldwide.
Let’s be honest, though: if you know about World Theatre Day, or have even heard of it, it’s because you’re a Theatre Person, you are sleeping with a Theatre Person (aside: this is a highly recommended activity) or you are stalking a Theatre Person.
It’s amusing that a UN-sponsored day that’s existed for half a century is so little-known outside the medium for which the day was created; on the other hand, the fact that this is true is not surprising for a medium that subsists on nihilistic cannibalism and self-flagellation.
If you’re a Theatre Person (or are sleeping with one or are stalking one), you probably know the old joke: how many actors does it take to change a light bulb? One to do the job, and fifty more to say they could have done it better.
Two theatre stories have garnered national and international attention in the past few months (though the true scope of one of them is somewhat arguable): the death of the Vancouver Playhouse theatre company, and the outrage over Mike Daisey’s truth-fudging in his monologue-cum-journalism piece, “The Agony and Ecstasy of Steve Jobs“. The former created a firestorm of blame and finger-pointing at everything from arts funding cuts, artist unions, artistic choices, and even theatre critics; the latter created a firestorm of blame and finger-pointing at Mike Daisey.
And so it goes: the artistic community has an addiction to looking inward and backward for blame, instead of outward and forward for inspiration, even when events like the ones outlined above inadvertently draw attention from outside our sphere. And so it goes: most World Theatre Day celebrations consist of Theatre People patting themselves on the back and then complaining that there is no respect for the power and relevance and impact of their craft. And so it goes: theatre companies worldwide continue to promote World Theatre Day by creating events marketed to their existing audiences and existing communities, instead of reaching out to new ones.
I’m painting an awful lot of people with a single, big, ugly brush. It’s an easy rhetorical trick. In all honesty, these are not universal attitudes, but they are common ones… and they have always rubbed me the wrong way. So: I’ve decided to tip my hat to World Theatre Day by accentuating a few positive outcomes related to the two recent stories I’ve mentoned.
The loss of the Vancouver Playhouse is tragic and has created ripples that have impacted theatres across Canada, but it also creates a void that will be filled by something new. The outpouring of love and support from the national arts community will result in the creation of something exciting and vibrant for Vancouver, whether it is a phoenix-like rebirth of some form of the Playhouse Theatre Company, or the freeing up of resources and funding that can be used by other arts groups in the region. The Vancouver Playhouse was as old as Canada’s theatrical tradition; like an old-growth forest, a little fire and tragedy actually serves to fertilize the soil and allows new life to take root. The Vancouver Playhouse closure drew intense media attention (read: beyond the arts section of the national media outlets) to the plight of BC’s fragile arts environment, and it galvanized a community of artists who have since vowed to move the spirit of the Playhouse forward. You can’t buy publicity like that. We grieve, we breathe, we are inspired, and we move forward with renewed vigor.
The excerpts of Mike Daisey’s monologue that were broadcast on the most-downloaded podcast episode of “This American Life” ever (!), followed by the full-hour retraction and follow-up episode (!!), have created a much-needed and very healthy discourse about Apple, about consumption culture, about the high cost of apparently-magical and affordable gadgetry; about the state of modern journalism, about integrity, and about theatre. It has reverberated around North America and many other parts of the world, and as I write this, the story continues to echo. I am reminded of the controversy over James Frey’s “A Million Little Pieces” and Oprah’s chastisement of that author: the effect of the work has not been called into question; just the method by which that effect was created. Since Mr Daisey’s piece blew up beyond its original black-box borders, “Foxconn” has entered the English lexicon, Apple has begun to scrutinize its manufacturing contractors more deeply, and the effect of ubiquitous gadgetry on globalized labour markets has been brought into high relief. Say what you will about the damning effect of a piece of theatre being mistaken for a piece of investigative journalism: Daisey was (and remains) passionate about the issue, and in spite of what can only mildly be called a gaffe, he has had a tectonic impact. It has not come without a cost, but it’s clear that Mr Daisey has gotten terrific bang for his buck. Doubtless he feels the loss is more than outweighed by the gain. “Return on investment”, indeed.
These two recent events have done more for the visibility and impact of theatrical practice than the current form of World Theatre Day can muster. My hope for World Theatre Day is that it we will use it to take note of the impact of these events, and that it will not take another 50 years before World Theatre Day is recognized outside the realm of theatre practitioners. Declarations of the transformative potential of art and theatre should be made by people outside our circle: politicians, business people, and leaders of all stripes who have felt the touch of our work. It should be sung by the workers at Foxconn whose labour conditions have improved; by the restaurant owners who thrive in the shadow of the local regional theatre’s crowds; by marginalized communities whose voices are finally being heard. That is how the circle gets bigger; that’s how society benefits.
So: happy World Theatre Day to everyone who’s never been to the theatre. We have had an effect on you; you just don’t know it. Sorry about that.
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