Marianne Taylor
Seeing rows of mobiles must be horribly off-putting when you’re addressing a skull about the nature of life and death.
“TO film, or not to film, that is the question: whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous filming, or take arms against a sea of super fans and by opposing end them ...”, as Hamlet said. Almost.
Alas, poor Benedict Cumberbatch. The Sherlock actor made headlines around the world this week for his ill-tempered admonishment of fans – some of whom worryingly call themselves “Cumberbitches” – for filming his hotly anticipated portrayal of the depressive Dane at the Barbican in London. Cumberbatch did not mince his words; he described seeing the bright red light of a mobile phone camera in the third row as he delivered his soliloquies as “mortifying”.
Some, of course, have criticised him for being petulant and pompous. “It’s the Cumberbitches that pay your wages, mate”, was one of the comments I saw on Twitter. “Aw, poor Benny-wenny” was another. Some academic types, meanwhile, have taken great pleasure in pointing out that in the Bard’s day the heckling of actors and even the throwing of rotten fruit and veg were common, so Bennywenny should think himself lucky.
But I’m with The ’Batch on this one. Put yourself in his shoes. It’s not every day you get the chance to play the most famous role in theatre. I can only imagine you’d want to give it your very best shot. Seeing rows of red lights, dipped heads fumbling with mobiles and hearing audience members tutting must be horribly off-putting when you’re addressing a skull about the nature of life and death. Knowing that you will end up as a clip in Brooke from Minnesota’s “Tour of Europe” YouTube video alongside Edinboro Castle and the Lock Ness Monster probably doesn’t make it any better, either.
I went to see Prince last year and couldn’t believe how many of my fellow fans spent the majority of the gig taking pictures and making videos – and spoke loudly about taking pictures and making videos – of the diminutive virtuoso rather than just enjoying watching him strut his stuff. I found it all distracting and difficult to fathom. As someone who doesn’t upload their life to Instagram, I suppose I also found it a bit sad.
Are memories and experiences no longer valuable or meaningful unless we have hard evidence to bore our friends with?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not averse to watching the odd cat video (Keyboard Cat still cracks me up). But when it comes to intense experiences such as music and theatre, I’m a purist. I want to live in the moment.
‘‘ Seeing rows of red lights must be very off-putting when you’re addressing a skull about life and death