Between the yakking, loud munching and incessant rustling, how can anyone enjoy a trip to the theatre?

LESS than a fortnight before Elvis Costello had to cancel the remainder of his European tour because of illness, I saw him put on a terrific show in Dublin. It was at The Venue Formerly Known As The Grand Canal Theatre (sorry, folks, no free adverts here), which easily ranks as one of the capital’s finest amenities.

I’ve loved the place ever since going to see the great Randy Newman there about six weeks after it opened in March 2010. It is of course a spectacular-looking building and, even after just eight years, is already a bona fide landmark.

Granted, the spacious foyer does have a bit of a feel of an airport departures lounge about it. But when it comes to showtime, there isn’t a bad seat in the house.

Best of all, the mobile signal in the auditorium is apparently almost non-existent at times. Management are able to block mobile phone signals in the auditorium when necessary. This is obviously a positive thing that should be encouraged elsewhere, though it comes as little surprise that not everyone agrees.

When former England Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard appeared at the theatre earlier this year to speak about his illustrious career, some members of the audience were less than pleased to discover they couldn’t make calls or send text messages. ‘Not impressed with the blocking of all our phones,’ moaned one punter on TripAdvisor. ‘Everyone around us could not get a signal.’

Which, of course, perfectly encapsulates the whole problem. Even belatedly, it didn’t dawn on this particular halfwit that neither he nor his mates should have been trying to use their phones in the first place.

There is little comfort to be taken from the fact that this sort of behaviour isn’t restricted to Ireland. Back in 2015, the Broadway cast of Hand To God looked on in amazement as a member of the audience climbed up onstage to plug his phone charger into an empty socket. That same year, Benedict Cumberbatch had to ask London theatre-goers to stop using their smartphones to film as he played Hamlet.

The most jaw-dropping example yet of bad manners in a theatre setting came last week, though. During a performance of Titanic The Musical, people sitting in the front row used a smartphone to watch the World Cup penalty shoot-out between England and Colombia.

Here’s how our sister paper in England reported the incident: ‘As the Titanic’s lifeboats were lowered, and the players acted out the heartrending scenes about who would live and die, at least two women at the Theatre Royal in Nottingham began to cheer.

‘Stars of the show said they began yella ing “yessss” after each goal was scored.’

Afterwards Niall Sheehy, an actor from Bray, Co. Wicklow, who is appearing in the production, voiced his anger on Twitter. He described them as ‘the most ignorant audience members I have ever had the misfortune to perform in front of’.

The 37-year-old, who has starred in the West End, addressed one of the offenders directly in his tweet: ‘And when a cast member signalled “put your phone away” during the bows and you smiled, gave a thumbs-up and replied “I know – we won”, I think you may have let us know you are the stupidest woman on the planet.’

Sounds about right to me. Predictably, it seems Mr Sheehy received online abuse over his comments. Even more depressingly, he ended up having to apologise because his ‘phrasing may have been too aggressive’. Funny, I thought he was quite restrained in the circumstances.

Appalling

None of this surprises me in the slightest. Quite frankly, I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve sat in the cinema as people around me conducted lengthy phone conversations.

Nor do the appalling manners end there. Surely the obvious thing to do if the film has already started when you get there is to quietly take an aisle seat? Apparently not. There seems to be no shame whatsoever in clambering over a dozen people to get a prime berth right in the middle of the row.

It hardly needs saying that these are invariably the same punters who proceed to munch and slurp their way through vat-sized containers of popcorn and Coke. Little wonder that they then need to run to the loo every five minutes.

For a combination of all those reasons, I haven’t gone to see a film in the evening for at least 15 years now. It’s not that cinema-goers are any better behaved during the mornings or afternoons; it’s just that there are fewer of them.

Probably the worst theatre experience I had was at the opening night of a play in The Gaiety a few years ago. We were only few rows from the stage and, sitting directly behind me, was a middle-aged man with his teenage daughters.

It would be no exaggeration to say that he talked and rustled sweet papers incessantly throughout the performance. Eventually I turned around and politely asked if there was any chance he could keep it down a bit.

You can probably see where this is going. Not only was he completely unembarrassed, he actually had the cheek to tell me – in a refined accent that revealed him as a fully paid-up member of Dublin middle classes – to shut up. Which I did, in fairness, until the curtain came down – and then he got an earful of the fourletter variety.

But if rude individuals are the main problem, theatre managers also deserve a share of the blame for letting them get away with it. For instance, there is no doubt in my mind about what should have happened in Nottingham last week. The two women in question should have been frogmarched from the auditorium, thrown out on to the street and warned never to come near the place again. Those sort of no-nonsense tactics would sort out the situation in jig time.

Let me tell you what happened when I went to see James Graham’s play Ink at the lovely old Duke of York’s Theatre in London late last year. It was bad enough that the woman sitting behind me noisily chomped popcorn for the entire duration of the second half of the performance. Worse still was the fact that a nearby member of staff did nothing about it, despite presumably being there to keep on eye on the audience’s behaviour.

So I did something I very rarely do and made a written complaint. To be fair, I received a very prompt and courteous apology. It was also explained to me that the theatre receives ‘little to no subsidy’ and relies ‘on the revenue we make from our bars and kiosks’ to ensure there is enough money to put into productions.

Which, of course, is all fair enough. The email went on to say that they had ‘specifically sought out brands’ that use rustle-free packaging on their snack foods. It continued: ‘However, I do agree that this still fails to combat the noise generated by the person eating the popcorn and we therefore rely on our front-of-house team to control and monitor this.

‘The woman you refer to in your email was clearly being very disturbing, not only to you but to others around you, and I apologise that my staff did not intervene.’

And, er, that was the end of that. I’ll never darken the door of the Duke of York again following that experience. And if others vote with their feet in sufficient numbers, the management might find themselves an entirely new challenge.

Which, not to put too fine a point on it, will involve enticing the few remaining punters into eating their own body weight in popcorn. Rustle-free packaging and all.