Three Things Theatres (or anyone) Must Do to Survive and Thrive

I was very sad to hear that the Pasadena Playhouse, just a few blocks away from the Goldstar office, will be closing down and has already laid off the entire staff.  (Of course, the building is still a historic landmark and will be used at some point by another performing organization, or a re-organized version of the same one, almost doubtlessly.)

The Playhouse had worked with Goldstar on and off for years, sometimes wisely, sometimes not so wisely.  I could also take justified pot shots at their programming, but for the moment, I’m going to consider the peanut gallery closed as to the specifics of What Went Wrong in Pasadena and confine myself to the more general principles of what this episode shows us.

It does not, as Charles McNulty of the LA Times believes, indicate that we should move toward a “poorer theatre.”  If you want to see this vision of a poorer theatre realized, just go to El Molino Avenue in Pasadena in a few weeks and look through the dark windows of the Playhouse.  I know, I know, he means theatres should be poor in spirit, and I certainly agree that focusing on fancy lobbies isn’t the key to success.

But why shouldn’t theatres be prosperous?

Why shouldn’t theatres design themselves to be relevant to an audience?

In short, the story of the Pasadena Playhouse is the same story at every live entertainment organization anywhere in the world: you win when you bring something special to a group of people who are interested in seeing it.  And, by the way, you’ve got to keep an eye on the business, to see that it’s managed prudently.  Each of these three things is necessary: you must deliver something special; you must find and cultivate an audience that loves that something special; and you’ve got to keep your head on straight about the profit and loss statement.

Each of these is a necessary but not sufficient condition.

You can’t “discover” that you’ve got $1.5 million in debts that nobody knew about.  Neglecting the financial side of a non-profit organization is a disgrace and a violation of the public trust.  And if you take the mission of the organization seriously, you will take care of it because it’s obvious that having even just a little black ink at the end of each month is the best insurance policy for the survival and propagation of whatever that organization’s mission is.

McNulty, though, thinks that the problem is that “the consumerist model continues its stranglehold” on the theatre.  “Consumerist” is a vague term, but I suppose he means an orientation that puts sales above art.

But here’s the problem with this world view:  these are not two separate things.  Some people would advocate this false choice, between attracting paying customers and creating something great.  It’s as Zen teachers for years have been instructing their students, usually accompanied by a whack on the side of the head: “Not two!”

These are not two things.  They are one thing.  Being audience-oriented means binding the creative spirit of the work to the aspirations of the audience.  You’re not there to pander to them, and you’re not there to condescend to them.   You’re there to take them someplace they didn’t know they wanted to go, but do now.

And at the same time, show some respect for the work and the audience by not wasting the resources you’ve been given to bring it all together.  Use resources, yes.  Take risks, yes.   Make big investments when it matters.  Do something experimental.  Hell, dance among folding chairs if you must, but do it FOR the audience.  Don’t do it AT the audience.

In many ways, Charles and I agree.  He says, for example, “Give the people something that they really need and they’ll find a way to afford it.”  Absolutely right.  But then he follows that with, “The challenge is getting them to sample what they might not know to be good for them.”  Suffering from the Great Performance Delusion, a mindset that sees people as too dim to know what’s “good for them” may simply be an advanced case of self-importance, not artistic greatness.