To reply or not to reply, that is (apparently) the question. Well, it certainly was for one audience member during Andrew Scott’s performance of Hamlet at the Almeida theatre in 2017. According to Scott, the man pulled out “a laptop, not a phone, a laptop” during Hamlet’s infamous speech. The actor stared him down until the woman next to the offender tapped him on the shoulder and he begrudgingly put it away and thus Scott’s soliloquy resumed.
Though this happened over six years ago it’s only just come to light. Scott recounted it on the podcast Happy, Sad, Confused when asked by the host “Do you ever lock eyes with anyone in the audience that takes you out of the moment?” Or in this case, out of the moment and into Outlook.
When I was an actor, these stories were dinner party fodder. They’d make up the post-show debrief. There was something so humbling about these tales of famous actors being ignored or interrupted by snoring. They were a great equaliser – a reminder that no matter how successful you were, the audience are there to be entertained, so deliver or it’s thumbs down for you.
But the joy of these anecdotes has dwindled in the last 12 months as they’ve gone from being rare examples of random awful behaviour to just normal behaviour. The Hamlet laptop man isn’t one lone eccentric, he’s representative of a general shift in theatre etiquette. And if 2017 was the sowing, then 2023 was the harvest.
Last April, the Bodyguard was halted due to disruptive audience behaviour, as was Bat Out of Hell, The Drifters Girl, Jersey Boys and most recently Hamilton in Manchester where the police were called following a punch-up. To be honest, as a stand-up comedian, a bit of me has enjoyed watching theatre darlings squirming in their royal boxes. This kind of unruly behaviour has historically been reserved for my stage – stand-up comedy clubs – and it’s been fun watching thespians climb off their high art horse and get a taste of the brutal word of heckling.
But even by comedians’ standards some audiences have become feral. For a while lockdown was blamed for these unhinged audiences. An overreaction to being trapped indoors for too long, like tightly sprung coils bouncing off the walls. But as we go into a new year the less tenable that argument becomes.
I have a different theory. Well, a few.
I think the first issue is financial entitlement. We’ve paid money to be here, this is therefore my time to do as I please. When your money buys you unquestionable customer service in all other aspects of your life, why would a theatre be any different? Plus the climbing cost of theatre tickets is attracting a different breed of audience member: wealth signallers. “I don’t actually want to watch a four-hour adaptation of Hamlet. I just want you to know that I can afford tickets to a highly anticipated, sold out, four-hour production of Hamlet.”
Which leads me on to my next point: four hours. Even by Hamlet standards that is a long adaptation. It makes me empathise a bit more with the laptop man. When was the last time, be honest, that you watched TV or a film without checking your phone? How long can you go without looking at your screen? Probably less than four hours. Probably less than five minutes.
Theatres are looking to attract new and younger audiences but how are they going to adapt to a generation who are used to TikTok? A space where, in four hours, you can watch well over 880 videos on everything from true crime to GRWM (Get Ready With Me). Hamlet has a good story but not even Shakespeare could argue with the compelling nature of the gossip currently unfolding on the-worldwide-ultimate-cruise-Tok (Google it).
So what is the solution? Putting phones and laptops in ziplock bags? Introducing regular social media breaks? Bouncers patrolling the aisles?
I was in Lisbon over Christmas and I watched a Fado show. I entered into a church-like space and was pushed into a corner, my enquiry about ordering a glass of wine was ignored as a hushed silence descended the room. The lights were dimmed as the musicians took to the floor. I tried to scurry off to the loo before it began but was pushed back by the waiter. I was about to express my frustration at the terrible customer service and explain that I had a bursting bladder but I wasn’t given a chance. The waiter was already loudly shushing the already silent audience.
In a room in which you could hear a pin drop, a woman sang acapella with two guitarists behind her. It was majestic. I forgot my bladder and my lack of Rioja. I forgot the irritation and that I was still standing and hadn’t been given a table. I melted into the beauty of this intimate moment. The aggressive silence that had been set by the staff only contributed to reverence we all felt witnessing this art.
I don’t know how to transpose that energy to the West End but in this beginning of 2024, let this be our cultural new year’s resolution: If you’re bored or you’ve got work to do then leave in the interval or better still don’t go. TikTok is waiting for you at home.
Tatty Macleod is a comedian, she is currently on tour with Fugue.