People have probably been writing about what theater needs to do to survive since Shakespeare's day; certainly it's become a cottage industry over the last few years. Everyone knows the problems. As corporate and foundation support shrank during the recession, many companies had to tighten their belts, as did other types of arts groups. Fans with less disposable income are harder to attract, and new audiences are even harder. The average age of theatergoers has been climbing to the point where at some theaters, snoring is almost as big an annoyance as ringing cell phones.
There are hopeful signs out there. Unusual collaborations and novel ticket programs show that local theaters are willing to experiment, though more offstage than on. And theater as art will always survive, of course. When I talked to Ryan Landry of the Gold Dust Orphans a couple of weeks ago about his new Christmas show, he recounted a visit with some theater students at Bowdoin College. They kept him for twice the scheduled time, grilling him for advice on getting a show up without money or an organization behind them, just because it's what they have to do.
I came across a post from Brendan Kiley in Seattle's the Stranger offering Ten Things Theaters Need to Do Right Now to Save Themselves that local theater people might find worth a read. Its advice isn't brand new for the most part, but it's communicated with, um, vigor, and ought to give a lot of local companies fodder for discussion.
Ironically enough, since I wrote this in the Globe today, item number one is: Enough with the Shakespeare already. "Stretch yourself. Live a little. Find new, good, weird plays nobody has heard of. Teach your audiences to want surprises, not pacifiers." Suggestions like producing quick and dirty and more often and dropping off the MFA track are not exactly new, but Kiley also suggests providing child care and pushing booze after the show. "Theaters try to 'build community' with postplay talkbacks and lectures and other versions of you've spent two hours watching my play, now look at me some more!" he writes. "You want community? Give people a place to sit, something to talk about (the play they just saw), and a bottle."
Some of this is snark, of course, and I'm not sure a bucket of PBR on ice will help the Huntington or the Lyric bring in more hipsters. But for smaller local troupes trying to survive/recover from this long recession, Kiley's piece is worth a read.
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