Everyone is expecting a great crash in theater where it is never the same again, but that's already happened. After the rise of talkie movies, 90% of American theaters disappeared within a decade, which is a much worse rate than anything we'll see now. Now, we're just seeing a gradual erosion of theater audiences that is easy to ignore in reports, but not in budgets.
In my mind, the options on how to change the game in American theater are:
Status Quo (Todd Olsenism), which Daisey and others fight because it's a system that, as the numbers indicate, is gradually sending theater into oblivion.
Revolution (Leninism): "Taking over the Guthrie!" as Daisey put it. Not going to happen. Capitalist thinking is way too strong, and will most likely result in...
Total Death (Jack D. Ripperism): Instead of having theater at all, have a community building rented out for business conferences, conventions, and bar mitzvahs. Think the Javits Center taking over Broadway. This is not a strong possibility either, but it's more likely to happen than a theatrical revolution, unless the world suddenly successful agrees in unison that theater is the answer to all our problems. Even if there is no Broadway, there will be people willing to create theater, and there will be empty spaces where it can be done. The texts of Sophocles, Shakespeare, and Chekhov will still exist. It would basically amount to rebuilding society from scratch, like if neutron bombs took out every theater in America. Of course, there's no guarantees people would come up with anything better in the New World Order.
Community Building (Obamaism): Building and organizing communities around noble set of aims and ideals, eventually working to change hearts and minds, which leads to attitudes and coherent promise. As encouraging as Obama's politics, and not as much of a pipe dream as some wouldhave you believe, but also depressingly contrasted by immediate realities.
Personally, I think there are some changes that would be easier to fix if it was just artists involved, but not when admins with vested interest have the power. That's behind the Daisey/Olsen feud and the ATC controversy in Chicago. I'm glad Mike raised the issue, but he can't handle the burden of provocateur and initiator of change all by himself. I have no idea how good Daisey is at math (I imagine better than most theater artists), but as a numb-cruncher, he's probably no match for Olsen's equivalent of Leo Bloom. Changing the institution of theater needs some legitimate action to follow up on the issues that Daisey raised, and that happens through internal politics. Problem is: artists are much better at provoking than at politicking, and the opposite is true for admins.
I doubt artists will take over all the admin jobs. It's likely that artists will need to learn to lobby and campaign for certain admins more sympathetic to their cause, which is harder to do when theater is as delocalized as it is today. I sort of see Obamaist community building on a local level working, as Adam Thurman suggests, but how do you do that when the dominant force in American theater is in one conglomerate city, and when the only city that can compete with it is similarly shut off from the rest of the world?
That's why I love the pipeline that's growing between New York and Chicago. If the two biggest theatrical communities in the country can't exchange ideas, it's much harder to encourage any other regional theater in the country to do so. But even at its strongest, a New York-Chicago pipeline would be, like, 30% of the battle, with little 2%'s and 1%'s and 0.3%'s that need to occur along the way.
Theater can't change society if it can't change itself, and the broken part of theater is reflective of a larger cultural struggle (as in Mike's alternate title: How Theater Became America).
In the midst of reshuffling the purpose of this blog, I have decided to provide a neat little summary of where it has been from 2008-Present:Major Features:
The Top 10 Quotes from English-language Drama This Decade:
How America Failed Theater: Theater from a Business Perspective
How America Failed Theater: A capitalist marketing perspective on theater's socioeconomic role in American life.
In case you're not convinced that it's essentially impossible to make money as a theater blogger, try this experiment. First, watch this video by online media guru Gary Vaynerchuk:
Now, take Gary V's suggestion and apply it to theater blogging. First, google "theater" and see what Google Adwords come up with. You'll likely get a lot of results on movie theaters or home theaters; perhaps the term is too general. So search for New York theater. When you do this, you'll get a lot of websites of individual theaters themselves, and maybe a few other publications. Search for "regional theater," and you'll get the same, as you probably will for any city you happen to live in. The only other results I got were for vacation and ticket services. This is probably the best option for advertising, but keep in mind the majority of the desired audience of these sites are out-of-towners whose interest in theater doesn't go all that far out of The Little Mermaid or Wicked. They're not going to be all that interested in your Brechtian analysis of some way off-off-Broadway show.
In Gary V's video, the way to make money off your blog is to call up these people and get them to advertise on your blog. Of course, most theater people are introverts, and get clamped up at the prospect of cold calling. But besides that, if you're focus is being critical and editorial, there's simply no way you can court advertisements from individual theaters and claim to have independent critical judgment. If you were going to get advertising from these sources, you'd need someone else who works on your website for strictly advertising purposes. For smaller theater publications, and especially theater blogs, that's a virtual impossibility. Even if you could get someone to do it, the amount of time you'd need to invest wouldn't be worth the minimal results you'd probably get.
From a marketing perspective, it shows the limits of niche marketing, even though theater isn't by any means the smallest niche to try to make a profit. Within the theatrical community, however, there are two main factors keeping these kind of marketing strategies from succeeding. For one, theater is based more around a sense of community. Any show produced or artist supported by a theater is seen as more of a means of adding something to the theatrical discussion. Unless you're making something like The Little Mermaid, it is not seen primarily as a revenue stream (even if profit is still in the back of your mind).
Secondly, in the case of individual theaters as possible advertisers, it is impossible to extract the product of the theater (be it talent, show, or community) from the theater that's producing it. If you're selling beer, you're almost always selling someone else's beer. From a business perspective, you have no emotional attachment to the brand of beer you're selling, even if you have a weird beer specialty market. In theater, the product your selling is inherently produced by your own personal labor and belongs to the individual laborers who produce it. Do you know anyone who buys Budweiser from Anheuser-Busch directly? Or for an off-off Broadway parallel, you can't even buy Summit Ale from the Summit Brewing Company online store.
In How Theater Failed America, Mike Daisey spoke of contemporary American theater submitting to the American capitalistic system of constant competition, fear of failure, and an artistically counterproductive need to make theater marketable to a stable audience. Tom Stoppard spoke of this just last night. Tony Adams recently talked about how theater don't focus on content anymore. Scott Walters has fought for artistic emphasis constantly. The consensus seems to be that this is a recent, troublesome development. Daisey suggested that a better title for his show would have been "How Theater Became America."
Yet, from the capitalistic perspective that these sources lament, the Gary Vaynerchuks of the world, theater is still a hopelessly unmarketable faux-commodity, one that flies in the face of long-term financial stability, and maintains a system of ethics entirely outside of that of American capitalism. From this perspective, theater still seems like something you do in spite of your desire to make a living. Whether it be theater's Marxist heritage or the nature of the artistic endeavor in general, success in theater is an entirely different mindset from success in business. The standards for good theater (artistic excellence) are wildly different from that of normal business marketing (ROI, profit).
If you're in theater, even using the term "commodity" in referring to theater will make you cringe. Yet, the fact that this cringe is nearly universal is a unique thing to theater, in terms of business and even in terms of the arts. Technologically reproducible art, be it film, music, fine art or literature, have all become dominated by a top-down big business structure to various degrees (the high art/low art distinction be damned). Theater can be top-down too, especially in New York (less so in Chicago or London). But despite the stereotypes of the Broadway producer, theater still exists on an immensely smaller business scale than just about any other form of art in the country. For all the complaining of theater's increasing commercialization and commodification, theater simply does not exist in the same financial stratosphere as any other form of art, even at its highest level. Some people who do theater are rich, but virtually no one gets rich—and I mean really rich, megamillionaire style—purely from theater itself.
As a result, theater has more of a focus on artistic excellence over profit than almost anything else in our culture. No matter what you think of the current strength of American theater, that's an enviable position for any artist to be in from an aesthetic standpoint. The downside is thatit's much harder to make a good living in theater. Of course, that's a tradeoff virtually every theater artist is willing to make.
But at the same time, most people in theater have problems with the notion of the majority theater artists having to live in poverty. As much was we like to romanticize the notion of a community of financially stable theater practicioners, without a wide-ranging income spectrum that includes the (relative) ultra-rich and ultra-poor, you simply cannot reconcile theater with the free market capitalist system that we currently live in. The Cold War proved that this liberal capitalist system is ultimately the most sustainable from a global economic perspective. By no means does that mean theater has no value in America—it may even give it more value simply precisely because it is so different. But again, what that means is that theater, at its core, has and will always run in spite of the larger socioeconomic spectrum of a capitalist society. If you go into theater, you better only want to make a sustainable living, or else you're screwed. No one should have to live in poverty. But poverty for some is virtually inevitable, and that rate will inevitably be higher a large-scale community that does not conform to the liberal democratic capitalist system. Communities like that national theater community we all strive for.
At first, the jump between Mike Daisey’s last two projects seems ungainly and almost impossible. Barely four months after shaking the foundation of contemporary American theater with his incendiary How Theater Failed America, Daisey is now tackling homeland security, a much larger, more complex, and more important issue. Yet, there is a link between Daisey’s previous screed and the more meditative, politically-charged If You See Something Say Something.
That link is economics. In Mike Daisey’s world, every pursuit one can take in life, be it artistic expression or thermonuclear war, breaks down very simply into humanity’s weakness for money. It’s that streak of cynicism that ties Daisey’s critiques of contemporary life to the last 200-odd years of Western theater. Some would say Daisey’s fury towards capitalism and flirtation with Marxism are irrational and dated. But as current events should make all too apparent, every human desire reduces to the stability of his economic situation. That’s something both radical Marxists and staunch capitalists can agree upon.
Lest you think by the title that Daisey is at Joe’s Pub just to carelessly rant about having to take his shoes off at the airport, If You See Something Say Something spans the Cold War, World War II, the founding fathers, and present-day Los Alamos. Modern homeland security concerns make up a relatively small fraction of the play. Daisey’s main target is the military-industrial complex; his thesis states that “if you keep a standing army, and it doesn’t do anything, it will find something to do,” a statement he repeats twice, first in reference to Eisenhower, then to Washington, DC. When the military, government, and corporate sectors converge, Daisey doesn’t just see a rise in paranoia: he sees a systematic manipulation of human weakness to get everyone to conform to a system that ultimately benefits no one.
Daisey is smart enough not to detach himself from the situation. He spends much time talking about his childhood fascination with Los Alamos, the Bomb, and the cleansing power of Total Destruction. Always willing to refer to his painful, traumatic childhood as a loser in the bowels of Maine, Daisey depicts himself as a comic-book-loving outcast (he compares Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff to Skeletor), harboring pre-Columbine fantasies of annihilating all the sources of his misery.
He finds a kindred spirit in Sam Cohen, the deeply troubled, morally tormented father of the neutron bomb, who invented that ultra-efficient weapon partly to appease a similar fantasy. Rage at the political economy of the military-industrial complex was the bait for Daisey to create If You See Something Say Something. It was that deeply ingrained sense of longing that forced Daisey to fall into the monologue hook, line, and sinker.
Ultimately, If You See Something Say Something will probably not have the same impact on the theatrical community that How Theater Failed America did, but it does cement Daisey’s status as the finest, most unique monologist of his generation. Daisey’s often been compared to Spalding Gray, but he’s got an an attitude straight out of the the Angry Young Man movement, comic books, and punk rock. As today’s foremost self-described fat, angry asshole, Daisey has a perpetual itch to provoke that he will probably never be able to escape (he probably doesn’t want to, either).
Yet he’s accomplished that rarest of feats: mixing rage and a revolutionary spirit with a well-grounded intelligence and an ability to promote discussion, maybe even solid changes. If You See Something Say Something may not be as fresh as Daisey’s 21 Dog Years or as directly vital as How Theater Failed America, but as long as there’s a place for a voice to point out the injustice and political outrage that so many feel but few articulate, there will be a place for Mike Daisey. With the economy what it is, that place may only get bigger. If You See Something Say Something, written and performed by Mike Daisey; directed by Jean-Michele Gregory; lighting design by K.J. Hardy. Photos by Kenneth Aaron.
If You See Something Say Something is performed at Joe's Pub at the Public Theater (425 Lafayette Street). The show runs through November 30. For performance times and ticket information, visit www.publictheater.org. This review was originally published on Blogcritics.
Yesterday, within a span of about an hour, I heard two conflicting reports on how the NYC Fringe Festival affects the city's off-off-Broadway and experimental theater scene. NY1's On Stage program had multiple interviews of theater professionals talking about how the Fringe is the only time in NYC when theaters can really put on a show for the love of the theatrical process more than for profit. An hour later, I see a Time Out New York feature which, in dissecting the problems of Manhattan's downtown theater scene, puts the blame squarely on the Fringe:
“Off-Off Broadway is now Philadelphia,” semi-jokes Ron Lasko, the Fringe’s publicist. While he says gentrification has done a lot of the damage, he admits the festival itself is also to blame. “It’s such a great financial bargain that many indie companies are quite content to produce their new work the Fringe [for a $550 fee] instead of seeking out costlier venues at other times,” he says. “When a showcase costs $20,000 to $40,000 to mount, there’s little room for experimentation.”
In reality, I think there's truth to both these statements. While we see more innovation per minute of stage time now than any other time in the New York season, maybe we should be spreading out that innovation more. I know Mike Daisey and Scott Walters would certainly say so, as this is a microcosm of their problems with the larger national scene in their mind. But at the same time, that may not make financial sense, as Don Hall would argue.
I'm a bit conflicted over this, as I feel the products that come out of the Fringe aren't as good as they're made out to be. Yes, the Fringe is more innovative and smaller, but that doesn't always mean better. There hasn't been a real Urinetown-level success in a long time, and I think that's more of a product of talent than of economics. NYC's Fringe pales in comparison to what's going on in Edinburgh right now. But is that the product of a flawed, fixable system or some other factors (creativity gaps, larger cultural trends, the limits of the medium). I don't think I have a firm opinion here. What about you guys?
The Don Hall/Mike Daisey/Scott Walters/Adam Thurman debate
The breakdown:
Theaterforte calls on Mike Daisey to define his view on how theater exactly fails America more clearly.
Daisey responds, calling for a culture where the artist is nurtured and not desperate for income.
Scott Walters gives his take on Daisey's point, advocating to keep it simple and return regional theater to its core values.
Don Hall calls Daisey and Walters out, arguing that if restructuring American theater was so simple, it would have happened already. Hall makes a parallel to a professional gambler complaining about lacking health insurance-it's his choice, after all.
Here's when the shit really starts to hit the fan. First, Daisey lashes back at Hall, claiming Hall misrepresented his argument and shoots down the blackjack parallel:
This is just dumb. I don't know where to start--do I start with how art isn't much like gambling? Or how what society gains from art is wildly different than what it gets from gamblers? Or do we talk about how one form of activity (gambling) is on the ascendency, while theater has been shrinking...oh, I give up. It's just a really facile analogy, and I'm not going to parse it.
The only part of this that is true is that being a working artist *feels* like being a professional gambler. Otherwise, it's worthless.
Then, out of nowhere, Adam Thurman swoops in. He takes Hall's comparison one step further, drawing a parallel to the World Series of Poker and how nearly 90% of the players are "Dead Money." This is just like the theater world, Thurman argues. A handful of people who have enough skill and have learned to take advantage of the system, and lots of people who have foolishly jumped into the fold and will never make it.
Daisey goes apeshit on Thurman, arguing that theater is not a zero sum game where the success of one person depends on the failure of another. Theater is not competitive, and one person's success does not entail another man's failure.
Walters give his two cents on the Hall-Thurman analogy, breaking down their artistic Darwinism and noting that there's an element of luck to it. This post is followed by a particularly nasty comment trolling session between Walters, Hall, and others.
Thurman strikes back with what he claims to be a hard-line economics stance on how Daisey and Walters are unrealistic, with a post entitled "The Power of Scarcity."
Walters argues that Hall and Thurman disagree with him and Daisey on whether fixing American theater is a normative or descriptive problem. Despite being the only academic in the group, Walters takes the normative side. Hall leaves a nasty comment calling Walters cracked.
In his Friday roundup, Hall calls Thurman's article the "Best Fucking Theater Post of the Week"
And then they all called it a week and went out and had tea. Sheesh, I guess if you don't want drama in your blogging life, don't blog about drama.
My Take: For one, I think Hall is right to point out that fluffy, oversimplistic talk accomplishes nothing. I also think Thurman is right to point out that there is an inherent talent gap in all fields, be it theater, poker, or law. That's a side of the starving artist argument that is often ignored. What I will say, however, is that Daisey is right to point out that there's no need for theater to be competitive. Thurman claims to be taking the realist economic stance, but he makes an egregious error in his view of scarciy.
Yes, resources are scarce in the arts economy, just as they are in the world economy. But the economics of art, just like the economics of the world, is not like a poker tournament. There's not a fixed amount of money involved, and there's no fixed pie for each person to acquire a percentage of. One theater professional's success does not need to mean another one starves. Walters is right that Thurman has taken a descriptive stance, but he's overlooked how flawed his descriptive stance is.
If you're going to talk economics, why not use an example from actual economics, instead of a poker tournament? When India developed a tech industry, did America's tech industry crumble? No. Instead, India provided an extended pool of resources that has helped the U.S. and world economy much more than it has hurt. If it wasn't for India's economic development, there would be no Citigroup today.
Contrary to Thurman's assessment of scarcity, more theater would not mean that there is a shortage of pieces of the pie to be had. It would instead mean that the pie gets bigger. The argument is not that a bad theater artist should make as much as good one, but he should be able to make an income that's sustainable. Healthcare should not be dependent on your success. A bad lawyer can still make six figures, while an exceptional one can make eight figures. Theater artists should be able to make a living the same way.
The economic explanation for why most theater artists do starve is that a theater professional is not as heavily demanded as a laywer, and there is an an abundance of theater people over what is demanded. This creates a surplus of theater workers, which means more unemployment. Demand, however, is elastic, and it can increase. If steps can be taken to shift a demand curve to the right, then there will be more theatrical professionals making more money. The demand could increase by creating more lively, cheaper theater. Lively and cheap theater requires artists who can take risks without worrying about starving because their medical bills are so high.
When a basic standard of living is met, theater jumps back into the world like a spring. Theater artists can take more risks and ticket prices go down. People start coming back to the theater, putting money into the system. A theater artist's expected income increases, meaning more people can live that life, and have more of an incentive to do so. The normative goals are met by descriptive economics. Simple as that, people.