Live gala was a cheery reminder of what we’ve been missing
A Theatre Near You
In the topsy-turvy world that the Covid-19 crisis has inflicted on the performing arts, you can now open a theatre to the public but not mount a live show. Conversely you can present a (socially distanced) show, without an audience. That option has been seized on by the Oxford Playhouse in a spirit of ironical jest and fundraising zest.
On Wednesday evening, it streamed – live! – a ticketed gala event, via Youtube, that flung open the doors to a motley crew of entertainers and technical support (with “headliner” Stephen Fry beaming in a sage contribution from the confines of his study, like a pop-up Prospero). Audience members, though, were there none – the camera roved across rows of seating to make the obvious but stirring point that a theatre without theatregoers is a shadow of itself. So far as the artists are concerned, mid-performance an audience may only register as a titter, a cough, a shared guffaw or round of applause in the dark, but it is finally what makes things tick. What it brings in isn’t just revenue, it’s raison d’être.
The former stamping ground of all kinds of luminaries – from Maggie Smith to Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor – the Playhouse, in common with most other theatres, is facing huge challenges to survive, bolstered though it has been by a dollop from the Arts Council’s pot and the Chancellor’s rescue package. Whingeing was not the order of the evening, though – this was, aside from thanks for that support, a cheery celebration of the art form, a reminder of what we’ve missed.
Given the one-way nature of proceedings, Marcus Brigstocke did a sterling job as the emcee, directing solitary bonhomie (albeit with smiling assistance from the keyboardist) into the void. Although his spiel risked sounding like a cross between an audition turn and an acceptance speech on behalf of the industry, the gag-rate was high, the geniality unforced. “I’ve completed Netflix, they’ve sent a certificate and everything,” he grinned, as relieved as a toddler let back into a playground to be romping in his natural milieu.
Also on hand was his wife, the comedian Rachel Parris, crooning a ditty enumerating all the locales where she’s had theatrical encounters – “I’ve stood outside in winter while someone shouts Pinter…” We got a
‘I’ve completed Netflix,’ said emcee Brigstocke. ‘They’ve sent me a certificate’
lung-busting blast from the virusstymied musical Six, courtesy of one of its stars, Natalie Paris, and a nostalgia-stirring soupçon of panto dame-ing from dolled-up Paul Biggin.
But due profundity was restored by the climactic video message from the venerable Fry, surrounded by books and emitting kindly concern, praising the totality of theatre (“Here’s to the ushers and the ushed”) and leaving us with thoughts about, and the sight of, the theatre’s “ghost-light” – that solitary, sector-wide, centre-stage symbol of hope – “to let the world know that we will be back, when this storm has passed”.
To watch the gala again from next Weds go to oxfordplayhouse.com