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Let imagination blossom again

The theater audience is drying up. It's time to train a new generation in the joys of thinking and believing.

September 23, 2007|Donald Margulies | Special to The Times

More than a quarter century ago, the critic Robert Hughes called the public's response to Modern art "the shock of the new." The role of art was to stimulate ideas, provoke thought, challenge ways of seeing. Today, we are experiencing a different, troubling phenomenon: a popular culture that embraces the comfort of the familiar.

Americans discovered the hard way that we don't like surprises. Now that fear and uncertainty have taken permanent residence, people are unnerved by ambiguity in all aspects of life. They look for reassurance in rituals that are concrete and predictable.

Newness is suspect. Constancy is rewarded. The consumer will go to McDonald's expressly for its Big Mac, go home satisfied, and make repeated return visits for the same reliable product. The fast-food culture now extends to the entertainment industry. Here the consumer has a pretty good idea what he's going to see before he sees it, and seems to prefer it that way. How else do we explain the proliferation of movie adaptations onstage and the domination of the franchise in the world of motion pictures?

Movie franchises promise plotlines that rely on tried and true formulas, and reunions with characters who, over time, seem like old friends. There is little surprise and no real jeopardy because these heroes are invincible: Bourne/Bond will surely endure because too much rides on his appearing in the next installment.

Serials, of course, are nothing new; they have been a part of the moviegoing tradition from the earliest days of the medium. But nowadays they have become industries unto themselves. They are pre-sold products with instant name recognition and built-in audiences; and the public, pressed to put their limited leisure time and entertainment dollars to good use with as little risk as possible, will invariably choose to spend their time and money on the sure thing.

Can we blame them? A night at the movies for a family of four, once you factor in parking, popcorn and that personal liter of Coke, could easily approach $100; a night on Broadway for the same foursome could cost more than five times that. Is it any wonder consumers want to know what their buck will get them before they plunk it down at the box office?

Today's theater-going audiences can hum the "score" of "Jersey Boys," the Four Seasons musical, before they enter the theater; they can anticipate the best lines from "Legally Blonde: The Musical" and know Celie's fate before the curtain comes up on "The Color Purple." They howled at their favorite shtick in Mel Brooks' "The Producers" and are likely to do the same with his "Young Frankenstein." The good financial news is that Broadway had a record-breaking year, but you know we've turned some kind of cultural corner when the once-subversive Monty Python can be repackaged for mainstream audiences as a benign greatest-hits extravaganza. (A notable exception to this recycling trend in musicals is the fresh and challenging "Spring Awakening," whose source is a dark, 19th century text by Frank Wedekind unknown to but a handful of its potential audience.)

Even non-musicals derived from popular films have made their way to the commercial stage: "The Graduate" gave certain aging actresses a chance to show they still looked good with their clothes off (and sold a surprising number of tickets to the curious) and now "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?," the soothing racial comedy-drama from the '60s, is also headed for Broadway.

Pity the poor dramatist living in an age in which movies have opening dates before they have scripts, television eschews scripts altogether in favor of contrived "reality" programs and Broadway has been reduced to a theme park where theatergoers can see some of their favorite movies performed live.

Dire pronouncements about the moribund state of the American theater have been made for decades but, like the formerly remote concept of global warming, there is every indication that its demise has finally come. The audience for "serious" theater (straight plays) is dwindling. The subscriber base -- the life force of not-for-profit theaters for half a century -- is literally dying, and the next generation is not filling their seats.

That group, the aging boomer, is too consumed by the demands of their careers, putting their kids through school and caring for their failing elders (those vanishing subscribers) to make theater-going the vital part of their lives that it was for their parents.

Young people have so many options at their fingertips that the plight of the theater must seem almost quaint to them, certainly irrelevant. How can theater, with its technologic limitations, possibly compete with the vast arsenal of entertainment available to them?

Age of the idle viewer

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