Lesley Manville recently said that she found audience members filming during the curtain call “insulting”.
“We’re telling you a story, you’re listening,” she said and I completely agree... during the show. If someone whipped their phone out during One Day More, or Waving Through a Window or Defying Gravity, whether I was on stage or in the audience, yeah, I’d be thoroughly peeved.
However, we live in an age of social media, where we find connection through the things we post. Theatre kids want the proof, to be able to say they were there; to go home, post a curtain call on TikTok and engage with people on the other side of the world who will never be able to see certain productions. “Oh my goodness! You got to see Cynthia Erivo play Dracula? I love her! Tell me everything!” Isn’t that wholesome? And magic? And what theatre is about? Connection and sharing our human emotions and passions?
And Lesley, I get it. Connection looks very different these days and, sometimes, we can get lost in the world in our phone. It has the potential to be detrimental, not only to our mental health, but our everyday lives and human interactions. I can also see how it may seem like the world has gone in a downwards direction when you look out at a sea of shimmering phone lenses at the end of a show.
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But I think the fact that we don’t see those cameras until the very end of the show, says something. It says that we haven’t forgotten theatre etiquette altogether. We haven’t forgotten how magical theatre can be, how it is best experienced when we fully immerse ourselves in it and escape from our everyday entirely, smartphones included.
But we live in a world of proving you were there. “Pictures or it didn’t happen!” was something my friends used to scream at me when I regaled them with a story about someone I met or something I did or somewhere I went. We all felt obliged to upload an entire Facebook album for singular nights out and tag each friend individually in every photo.
Maybe it’s sad or odd if you remember when people used to make conversation on the Tube instead of burying their heads in phones or Kindles, but the generations that reach for their phones at the end of a show have never lived in that world. We know no different. We want the souvenirs and when brochures now cost 20 ENGLISH POUNDS in some theatres, the most affordable souvenir is a 10-second clip of a performer taking their bow or the MegaSix or whatever fun curtain call a production might have in store.
It’s the progression of theatre and how word is spread about the art that every department helps create
It’s also the moment some shows let audiences finally sing along when they’ve been itching to screlt Dancing Queen or all the colours of Joseph’s blasted coat. The curtain call is exactly the right moment to let audiences cut loose after they’ve given us every scrap of their attention for two or three hours.
“Why can’t they let it live in their souls for five minutes,” Manville said. I’d argue that they did. For the entire course of the show. And now that the play is over, instead of, or as well as, applause, some people take out their phones and by way of appreciation will tell hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands, or millions of people online just how fabulous the show was. How fabulous you were, Lesley. It may not be what you’re used to, but it’s the progression of theatre and how word is spread about the art that every department helps create.
So, if someone wants to film the curtain call, when the show is done and they’ve been moved to capture those final few moments before the embers of theatre magic finally die out, let them. It could be the reason 50 more people buy a ticket to see your show.
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