Allowing us into your minds

'The Dressing Book' is well under way now and most people seem to like it. We are certainly getting some excellent feedback. I got an email this morning, however, which has prompted me to blog again after my slumbers for some months. The gentleman in question said that he thought the play was 'absolutely brilliant', but at the beginning of both halves there was a period of 'adjustment' during which his 'heart dropped' at seeing the 'what is this?' look on his sister's face (who hadn't seen us before) and while he wasn't 'bored' there was a feeling of 'something similar'. I would call it 'not being engaged'. He had seen us three times, twice outdoors and then our current indoor play, and felt the same each time. He asks: Am I weird, therefore? Well, of course he isn't. It is worth commenting I think on why this is not uncommon. 

We tend to think that theatre is happening on a stage somewhere in front of you, which it is, of course, if you stand outside the process. For it to function fully for you, however, you must become a willing partner in the process - if you like, to allow us into your mind. From that point it happens in your mind and plays around with 'where you are as a person', your mental landscape. It is our job to (and I know it is a horrible word)  control your thoughts and take you on a kind of journey. Some people won't even begin the process and will never allow us into their mind, because (especially outdoors) there are too many distractions, the weather, their picnic, a different motive for coming, dominating thoughts about things going on in their lives, etc. Some people will try, but because we tell more or less brand new stories, it is harder than processing a story they already know, and just give up - especially if we are not doing our job very well. 

Our style is also very unusual (We are the only commedia dell'arte company in the UK), so your expectations about what 'should' be happening are challenged. Of course, the more you get to know us, the more you expect us to behave the way we do - and, of course, if people don't like our style, they won't come back. But many people do like it, or come to like it, and also like 'taking on' (and it isn't that easy) new stories, and become willing participants in the process. 

Regarding where you sit, our work is very intimate and interpersonal with the audience, so the closer to the front you are the more engaging it is, and the easier it is to ignore distractions - and, of course, it is much easier indoors than out (hence we can do more demanding plays like 'The Dressing Book' indoors, but we couldn't do them outside). The first five minutes of each half are always going to be the hardest to allow us in, because you are coming from a different narrative, that of getting there, talking to your friends, dealing with cheap wine in the interval, and, of course, adjusting to our unusual style and a new story. So you have to concentrate. Not everyone wants to concentrate. They would prefer to sit back with something easier (hence the popularity of telly). So you have to ask yourself: Is it worth the effort? Some might think not, but others (enough fortunately for us) think it is and become willing partners in something potentially, if we do our job right, magical.