the barrier between AUDIENCE and STAGE

In most theatres there are incredibly well defined locations and a "normal" understanding of the non-physical separations between... the audience sits in nice (sometimes plush) seats, the stage is an open end of the room, and these two entwined worlds are forever linked yet separate. There's something cozy about being in an audience... there's something safe. And while I work in many such venues, and enjoy that symbiosis immensely, I have to admit to a degree of... artistic titillation ... in the breaking of, or at least redefining, those definitions. I've always been particularly energized when the set can reach out and physically embrace an audience, surround them, interest them in a way that is unusual. It forces an audience to reexamine their role in the process... are they meant to "be" in the location of the play? will they (gasp!) be expected to actively participate in some way?

I think that this is one of the reasons I respond so strongly to the Hypocrites' production of PIRATES OF PENZANCE (which I've written about twice now). By allowing an audience full-range roaming capabilities, it seems to intrigue some audience while alienating others... it's,  in some ways, a really curious social experiment.

I've watched the audience enter... and most of them, upon entering... smile... and then the wave of confusion hits.... as to why there ARE NO CHAIRS!!  across the space they see a tiki-bar selling drinks, and next to them a long bamboo coat-rack where they can deposit their winterwear. The cast is already onstage throughout the space, jamming with whatever instruments suits them in the moment, inviting them to sing along, handing out the occasional lei or pair of sunglasses. there are benches in some corners, and a scattering of picnic tables with kiddie pools atop them, with rubber duckies in them. It's a peculiar abstraction of a tropical beach with mis-matched beige carpet standing in for sand,  a mountain of beachballs in one corner, twinkling lights racing overhead and a pier, dotted with tiki-torches jutting diagonally thru the space with 70s lawnchairs bolted on one end (to allow some audience a permanent perch). the walls and support posts of this strange basement are painted a bright nautical blue.

Of COURSE, it's a strange world to enter... that's the point! A world where milquetoast pirates comically attack a band of maids and are rebuffed by the lie that their father, a Major General, is an orphan?!?! who writes this stuff!!!! Mabel, a operatic soprano, accompanying herself on a banjo?!? a Major General who wears footed pajamas with military medals and duckie slippers?!? The physical world matches the lunacy of the world created by the writers. And by allowing the audience to experience it ON THEIR OWN TERMS and to their own level of physical willingness to be participants in this world... it's utter madness, and frankly we need more that in theatre, and in life.