Towards a Definition of Terms

What? A post? I'm as surprised as you, honestly. I could blame the wide variety of commitments that kept me away (day job, An Enemy of the People at Stage Left, planning LeapFest, the 2011-2012 season, and playwright residency at Stage Left), but the simple truth is that I haven't wanted to blog in the last several weeks. I'm trying to get back into it, though, so hopefully more will show up soon.

To start, here's a discussion question. What, exactly, is community theatre? I'm inspired to ask this question by an excellent post by Monica Reida just under a week ago. For those too lazy to read it, tsk tsk, but here's a brief summary: she attacked the reflexive disdain for "community theatre" among so many people in the industry. For some, the term has become a synonym for amateurish, cheap shows that are a trial to sit through. She responded that she's seen plenty of superb community theatre and plenty of awful professional stuff. It comes down to the question: what is the actual difference between community theatre and non-equity theatre that doesn't pay any of the artists?

This led to a huge conversation--54 comments, at the moment, which would be any blogger's dream. And since this is a valuable conversation, I thought it should be presented to more people.

Here's my provisional take on it: I don't entirely agree that the only criterion to distinguish among types of theatre should be pay. Community theatre does seem to have features that distinguish it from other forms.

First off, there is the obvious issue of pay: as a rule, community theatres do not pay their artists. They are of course not the only theatres of which this is true. I have only once in my career been paid to act, for instance, and I'm sure many artists have had valuable theatrical experiences for companies who are unable to afford even a token payment.

Then there is the question of season selection. As a general rule, community theatres produce less adventurous, more audience-pleasing theatre: musicals, comedies, mysteries, American classics. This is far from a constant thing. Monica gives many examples of community theatres in her home state of Iowa producing adventurous fare. To take another example, Akron, Ohio's Weathervane Playhouse has produced a wide variety of plays in recent years: in addition to standards like Pippin, The Nerd, and Children of Eden, recent seasons have seen productions of Love, Valour, Compassion, A Doll's House, The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia, and A Long Day's Journey Into Night. I have no idea how good the productions were, but that's beside the point: no theatre always succeeds, and ambition is always a laudable thing.

The question of "professionalism", while interesting, is ultimately a dead end. One could define it by the number of people involved who have training in theatre, but even the equity world is full of people who fell into theatre and made major careers of it without having a degree in it--and community theatres certainly have people with theatre degrees working there. Professionalism can be defined as a company and group of artists who have competence, class, and respect for those who work with them, but it would be foolish to say these qualities are missing from community theatre--or that they are always present in equity theatre. It's too slippery a quality to use as a good criterion.

An interesting point is one of geography: based on my observations, community theatre is most prevalent in locales that don't have paid theatre. They are usually seen in suburbs or smaller towns. When in large cities, they are often in neighborhoods underserved by larger arts organizations. It says something important about the human and societal need for art: even areas that can't support large theatres will usually make their own to serve their needs.

The difference to me seems to come down to mission. In general, community theatre's mission is right there in its name. It's for the community. What matters is involving local people in making art, having a worthwhile experience, and getting people in the community to come see it and have an experience together. This isn't to say that the excellence of the art isn't important. It is. But it's generally not a case of "great art at any cost". What matters is the community.

But I'm hardly an expert on community theatre, and as I said, this is just the definition that's running around in my head now. Does anyone have any thoughts to contribute?

Risky New Plays

Some background: a couple of weeks ago, the Goodman opened the world premiere of Rebecca Gilman's A True History of the Johnstown Flood, directed by Goodman artistic director Robert Falls. The response was not particularly strong. Chris Jones, in the Tribune, gave it two stars. The reviews in general were mixed to negative, with some being better than Jones' and others being much worse. Shortly after opening I started getting offers for significantly discounted tickets in my email, so it's easy to guess that the show isn't doing very well for the Goodman. (I haven't seen the show, so I can't comment on its quality.)

A few days ago, Jones published a reconsideration of the play. After conversation and a few nights spent mulling over it, he came to the determination that there was more to the play than he initially said, and that, despite its flaws, it was worth checking out for the ambition and ideas onstage. This angered a lot of people. There were rumblings that perhaps it was the result of a stern phone call from Falls, which he has been known to do before, but nobody has yet produced evidence that this happened. Monica Reida was bothered that Jones said that people who didn't like the show maybe didn't understand it--not to mention callin the Goodman Chicago's "flagship" theatre and Falls the city's "essential" director, which are pretty sweeping claims. Bob Bullen also took strong exception to the fawning tone of Jones' post, the "flagship" designation, and the Goodman's own policies and behavior. Rob Kozlowski first put up a very funny April Fools post on the Goodman's upcoming season, then an excellent piece on his high expectations of the companies who charge the most for tickets, and whose leadership make the most money.

As he said, when that much money is being charged (and the top ticket price for Johnstown Flood is a staggering $76!) audiences have a right to expect excellence. Jones himself made a similar point a few months ago when discussing Outrageous Fortune: while audiences should be encouraged to take risks, they should also be warned away from bad plays.

So we find ourselves in a bit of a bind: it's good for theatre to have large companies such at the Goodman taking a significant risk by doing world premieres of large-scale plays on the mainstage. This happens all too rarely, and it's vital for the health of theatre in America, particularly the livelihood of playwrights. But while theatre companies taking risks is something that should be rewarded, when those risks belly flop (as this one apparently has), critics and, more importantly, word of mouth will rightly keep people away, and the company will take a severe financial hit.

So what to do? Well, the Goodman will keep going despite this show, and with four of the six plays thus far announced in their 2010-2011 season being world premieres, it's safe to say their commitment to new work is undiminished. And this is a very good thing--what good are large institutions if they don't consistently risk big? But other companies don't have the same security, and a similar situation could severely hurt them or constrain their programming abilities. It's not hard to understand why so many theatres seem allergic to risk, never producing new plays or producing only those with tiny cast sizes.

So how about this: there are a lot of nonprofits, foundations, and charities out there devoted to developing new works: grants, residencies, festivals, readings, etc, etc. But too often great scripts, particularly the big ones, can wither on the vine, never seeing the stage. So how about some of these groups take on a new mission: production of big new plays. These groups will take on some portion of the cost for full-scale productions of new works (premieres or early productions), particularly those with large casts. The financial risk for theatres will be lessened, more new plays will be produced, and the chance of great new plays showing up will increase.

Because even if A True History of the Johnstown Flood doesn't work, the impulse that created it is a very good one. Hopefully the resources are out there for it to continue. Any thoughts?