In theatre circles, the talk of the town is the Theatre Olympics, a massive undertaking by the National School of Drama, with productions from 17 countries being performed across the country, and a particularly strange and archaic anthem. But my article isn’t about this.
I’m writing from the Oddbird Theatre in Delhi, which is quickly becoming one of my favourite venues in the country. The idea of regularity cultivating outstation audiences seems to be working. We’re back again next month with a new production of ours, which has a fully female cast and crew.
Greeted with profanity
Its opening run was an exciting phase for us, because we took over the entire venue, and thematically expanded all across it. The play is set in a ‘ shaadi ka ghar ’ (house where a wedding is taking place), so not only was the entire venue (entry, waiting areas, loos) decorated accordingly, but for the duration of the opening run, the café served wedding themed food as well.
It was a social experiment, permitted by our venue partners, which seemed to add a very interesting layer to the attending audience. I’m keen to attempt similar experiential enhancements for all shows of this play.
That opening run and the most recent shows at Oddbird got me thinking about a problem that needs some sort of solution rather urgently. Latecomers.
At one end, there are venues like Prithvi and Ranga Shankara, which have a strict “no latecomers” policy that they simply do not budge from. They’ve had it from their inception, and most regulars are well aware of it.
You still get the occasional aggressive defaulter who demands refunds or picks fights even though this communication is pretty clear on all publicity material. Newer, smaller venues tend to be more liberal, particularly if they also host stand-up shows. In these places, if a theatre group like ours takes a stand that latecomers won’t be entertained, the audience in question goes up in arms.
Recently, we started a show 15 minutes after printed time, and someone showed up 10 minutes after that, and created a ruckus saying that she has been allowed in this late in the past.
I stood my ground, primarily because our staging meant actors were using the audience entry, and I couldn’t possibly have someone waltz in from the same door, but I was greeted with profanity and threats of bad reviews.
Try, for a moment, to see this from the audience’s point of view. One thing we cannot deny is that traffic is terrible. We’ve all been stuck in a nasty jam and been late for something despite best intentions and forward planning.
I’d like to believe that most people don’t like being late. But sometimes there are dire circumstances.
How lenient should one be? Isn’t starting 15 minutes after printed time enough? This also has a downside. A majority of the audience made it on time. Some well before. Do they deserve a late start to accommodate others? One immensely irritating thing at airports is when you’re standing for 45 minutes in an immigration line, and some passengers whose flight is about to depart are pushed to the front of the line, like they’re being rewarded for their tardiness.
Isn’t starting a play late the same thing? How is it fair for those who made it on time? Won’t the sticklers for punctuality in the audience give you a bad review? Also, a pattern sets in. People know the venue gives some leeway, and then they plan accordingly. It riles me when people say “PVR shows lots of ads, we can reach ten minutes after show time.”
No. I want to be there 20 minutes before, so I can buy my popcorn in a leisurely fashion, use the loo, mentally prepare for the film, not step on people’s toes to get to my seat. But that’s me.
And I get late sometimes, because a car broke down and caused a jam, or a particularly inefficient Uber driver was assigned to me, or a VIP needed priority, or the cops left barricades from last night in the middle of the road, or (and this happened in Delhi) Sunday is Satsang Day and this road has a few congregation halls because of which nothing will move. Now I can choose to think that “I should have left earlier” or I could choose to think that “the venue should have been more accommodating”. I’ve seen more of the latter of late.
Build a reputation
Latecomers, it must be said, add no value to the performance. Their entry is distracting (or more aptly, disruptive) for both the audience and the players, they’re often confused about the goings-on and cannot invest in the play, and are a general inconvenience to the performance. Even if they are sent to a different seating area, like a balcony, they affect the rhythm of the atmosphere the actors are creating with their audience, or create some commotion around technicians who are trying hard to focus.
Recently, a latecomer thought he knew a better route to an empty seat, and his acrobatic approach kicked one technician and pulled out the plug of another’s console. I know a murder in the dark was considered. I’ve always maintained that audiences need to be cultivated. Well, so do venues. And the habits of both need to be cultivated too. Punctuality isn’t just about making it on time. It is about respecting everyone else’s time.
Performing groups may need to take the reins for this, and brave the occasional tantrum or cuss word or punch, but build a reputation. A balance can be found. One sweet spot just before the people who came on time start getting restless, and just long enough to give those stuck in traffic an outside chance.
Alright then. Time’s up.
Akarsh Khurana is a theatre producer and director and hence often broke. To cope, he writes and directs films and web series and occasionally acts, albeit reluctantly.
