Online theatre has endless liberation possibilities - here’s why
Doubling up over the hilarious scenes in Inua Ellam’s The Barbershop Chronicles is, admittedly, not how my Dad and I are used to spending our 3 AMs. Normally, I’m up at that time because it pretty much guarantees a bit of peace and quiet while I write. He’s usually up at this time because being a security guard means working in the night and sleeping in the day; his nocturnal patterns are the norm – even when he’s got the night off.
Taking full advantage of the National Theatre Live’s newly available online plays (dubbed National Theatre at Home) during lockdown, I decided to finally settle down with The Barbershop Chronicles. I’d previously kicked myself for having missed the chance to make it down to London to catch it live. Five minutes into watching, I found myself hitting the spacebar suddenly, rewinding the YouTube video, and resettling downstairs with my Dad before pressing play again. We spent the next hour and forty-five minutes in between poignant moments of silent absorption and tear-inducing fits of laughter. The play left us entranced; from its seamlessly rhythmic stage transitions, to its deft and nuanced handling around experiences of Black masculinity. Long after the video had ended, my Dad and I found ourselves still deep into the conversations the performance had begun.
The shift to platforming online theatre during the pandemic has turned out to be a blessing in disguise for those working unsociable hours. Research shows that not only are theatre-goers increasing due to online access, but over a quarter of them are experiencing streamed theatre for the very first time. Working-class people tend to have comparably less leisure-time than their middle and upper-class counterparts, and when we look at accessibility to the arts in relation to the number of working hours, it is easy to see how unsociable working hours leave less space for art consumption that requires extra time and travel. Seeing my Dad light up after the online performance finished, I suggested that we visit the theatre more often when they hopefully reopen. I sensed his enthusiasm, but he ultimately concluded that a combination of travelling from work and his late-night shifts made this an unlikely idea. Travel costs, disposable time and income, and logistical barriers are all very real hurdles which decide who is able to enjoy live theatre.
The increase in online theatre programming and the related rise in new theatregoers probes us to question not only the ways in which we access theatre but also who is typically perceived to be a standard theatregoer. For instance, a report by the national art organisation Arts Council England, has shown that the growth in digitisation of theatre could increase accessibility for disabled theatregoers by as much as 56%. Despite these impressive figures, the reaction to online theatre has been met with some conservative criticism. Critics talk about the failure of the digital screen to capture the ‘magic’ of live theatre, and the financial disadvantage physical theatres forgo by making their performances available online. However, the fear that digitising live performance will render the magic of theatre dead excludes those who would have been unable to see it live in the first place. Viewing online theatre as inherently damaging is rooted in pre-existing notions of who theatre audiences typically are and have been; those who possess both the time, money and ability to regularly attend performances in person.
These conversations around the problems of access and consumption of theatre are not new. Initiatives like the Black Ticket Project are dedicated to breaking down cultural and socioeconomic hurdles that prevent equal access to the arts. Historically theatre has often been seen as inaccessible and a respite of the upper-middle class. We are seeing an increase in the call for theatre to break down barriers of accessibility when it comes to representation, and this should extend towards those who are kept from consuming theatre too. Theatre consumption outside of the physical theatre is not new, with performance programming often featuring within cinemas. Deconstructing theatre in a way that makes it accessible for all audiences means going one step further; an increase in more subscription-based online platforms like Fringe of Colour Films that are perfect digital bridges. I asked my Dad whether he would consider taking out a regular online subscription and he said he would, especially if he would be able to gain access to plays like Ellam’s which are, according to him, “better than most of the stuff on TV.”
The ending of The Barbershop Chronicles was followed by a flurry of my Dad’s questions: “Can we watch it again?” “How long is it available for?” “Can I subscribe to this channel?” “Where can I get more like this?” Seeing his eyes light up and tears roll down his cheeks from laughter was a demonstrable portrayal of the power of theatre, regardless of its format. I believe that in a parallel world where he didn’t work night shifts my Dad would be a regular theatre-goer. For those on call, for nurses, security guards, and those for whom time is a precious commodity, increasing the programming of online theatre means allowing them to experience the ‘magic’ theatre inhibits too. It is an important and innovative inclusion which accommodates a wider variety of socioeconomic backgrounds, while answering the question of how theatre can evolve to include those outside of its doors as well as those within.
