I’ve worked front of house in 40 theatres – and audiences behaved terribly in all of them
Ihave been working front-ofhouse jobs in theatres more or less since I graduated from university 12 years ago. During that time, whether in regional theatres or on tour, I must have worked in at least 40 theatres across the UK – old, new, and with audiences large and small. However, one thing has been consistent in all of them: terrible audience behaviour.
Last week Colin Marr, director of the Edinburgh Playhouse, condemned the actions of a “small minority” of audience members who “choose to sing, dance and talk throughout the show in a manner that disturbs others” and then verbally and physically abuse front-of-house staff when they intervene. I was saddened by the statement, but not surprised. As much as audience behaviour has got worse in the past two to three years, it is not new.
For my first job after graduation, I worked as front-of-house staff at my local theatre. When it was announced that The Rocky Horror Picture Show would be showing there, I was baffled by the number of groans and complaints from longer-serving staff. When I asked why they were dreading it, they said simply: “the audience”.
As it turned out, I did not experience any abuse during that run (apart from being vomited on by a heavily intoxicated young woman), but my colleagues’ horror stories made me very nervous. I soon realised that there are many shows that strike fear into the hearts of ushers.
Dirty Dancing is one – I don’t think I’ve ever met a front-of-house person who likes working on that show. Motown the Musical also has a poor reputation, as well as Mamma Mia!, The Bodyguard and Grease. Jukebox musicals and tribute shows are the worst offenders, and are enough to make anyone wish they could take the week off.
Poor behaviour is often down to an excess of alcohol: many theatres are situated within a stone’s throw of a pub or bar where some patrons will often sit for hours before drunkenly stumbling their way to the theatre. Bars are often kept open throughout performances and, on a daily basis, staff are having to deal with abusive and aggressive customers who are apparently incapable of sitting and quietly enjoying a performance for a couple of hours
Too often, theatre management refuses to take decisive action – more worried about customer backlash and social media comment than staff’s happiness and safety. On one occasion, while working at a theatre in London, a performance was constantly disturbed by a drunken man and woman, who triggered complaints from several audience members and staff. Nothing was done – colleagues were simply told to “keep an eye on them”. I couldn’t understand why the managers would not commit to ejecting them from the theatre when they were clearly ruining the performance for so many people. It was a bittersweet victory when the decision was finally made to remove the couple … 10 minutes before the show ended.
More recently I worked as a frontof-house assistant at a festival and one its biggest-selling shows was The Choir of Man, a feelgood, jukebox musical. It’s a great show – I know it almost off by heart (one of the side-effects of front-of-house work) – but the audience behaviour during the run was outrageous. Customers would arrive drunk and continue to drink throughout the performance (the show does unfortunately encourage it), sing over the top of the performers and argue with and insult other audience members and staff.
Some patrons attempted to get on to the stage, make their way into dressing rooms and follow performers back to their accommodation. The managers’ response? They told us to “monitor” disruptive customers and act like security guards. My final straw was when a rude and aggressive customer was flagged as disruptive throughout the show, refused to leave when it was over, and we were given no support by the duty manager. I handed in my notice.
Serious change is needed. For a start, the supply of alcohol needs to be examined – whether through better searches and assessing a person’s sobriety on entry, or restricting customers’ intake during a show (many theatres now operate an at-seat service and, as far as I’m aware, it is limitless). When I worked at my local theatre, patrons were not allowed to bring alcohol into the auditorium and, although it was difficult to monitor, I am convinced it helped reduce the amount that customers would drink during their visit. Sadly this rule was rescinded some years ago.
Additionally, theatres need to have the confidence to eject customers, and trust what front-of-house staff are telling them – we have the experience to know pretty quickly if someone is going to be a problem, whether it’s signs of drunkenness or general rude behaviour. After two warnings, a disruptive customer should be removed.
There’s nothing quite like seeing an amazing show – that’s why I love working in front of house. But we are there to help patrons enjoy the performance, not act as babysitters, bouncers or punchbags. Front-of-house staff across the UK deserve more respect and protection – if customers want to get drunk, they should go to the pub instead.
Bethany North is a front-of-house worker who has worked in theatres across the UK
chenko posted on Instagram.
The second incident, which is better known internationally, was the exposé by an investigative journalist of corruption at the ministry of defence, which was found to have bought food for the military at almost three times market prices. Corruption scandals are nothing new in Ukraine, but as with the Instagram videos, this one prompted similar widespread outrage and demands for action.
At the same time, there are more obstacles to justice than ever – not only because of the external threat from Russia, but because the war has thrown up internal barriers and tensions between the Ukrainian authorities and the people they are supposed to represent.
While Ukrainians place their highest degree of trust in the army, the Ukrainian government is not always applauded for its actions. The government has used the state of emergency to push through reforms that had previously been subject to intense public scrutiny and opposition. This includes thetemporary removal of collective bargaining agreements over issues such as pay and holidays for employees of small and medium-sized companies, and a law on urban planning that gives almost unlimited rights to property developers, with little public oversight.
In 2019, when the same government tried to pass a bill that would have stripped workers of many of their basic rights, trade unions opposed it with mass protests. This bill is back too, but trade unions will have a harder time fighting it this time around because protests are now banned under martial law.
People are willing to tolerate some unpopular measures – for instance, an increase in criminal penalties for soldiers who disobey orders, and a cut to some military benefits – since there is a general understanding among Ukrainians that internal conflict might benefit Russia. But holding the government to account and demanding better, even during tough times, is a Ukrainian tradition.
Despite the ban on protests and public gatherings, some citizens have been working to draw attention to injustices that might otherwise be overlooked amid the war. One of the most prominent is the campaign by the families of prisoners of war, who feel they are not being listened to by the authorities. Information about the fate of Ukrainian PoWs is tightly controlled and families are told not to draw attention to their loved ones in case it increases their value in prisoner exchange negotiations with Russia.
Many families believe this is an excuse for inaction: “If we remain silent, they will leave our Ukrainian prisoners there,” I was told by Angelika Kalashnikova, the sister of a captured soldier from the 93rd brigade, when I reported on the issue last year. The families of PoWs have found each other through social media, and organise rallies to put pressure on the authorities.
Last year also saw a successful strike by miners in western Ukraine, protesting over the government’s decision to reappoint managers who had previously been accused of corruption and dismissed. And just like in the UK, healthcare workers have been campaigning against austerity measures in hospitals after market-driven reforms led to closures and redundancies last year. There may well be more protests if wider proposals to cut the salaries and numbers of state employees go ahead.
The way that Ukrainians fight for a better country during wartime, even with limited options for influencing decision-making, gives hope for its future. People have tried to preserve their right to protest. Notably, a petition for the legalisation of same-sex marriage gathered more than 28,000 signatures last summer – the threshold beyond which the president must formally consider a proposal.
As Ukraine continues to be argued over in international capitals, such initiatives are a reminder that ordinary
Ukrainians – and not just their leaders – should have a right to decide their country’s future. Journalists are a part of that fight, too. Despite the war, I and my colleagues have continued to report on grassroots activism and investigate corruption. Our independence must be guaranteed.
Fighting for change in Ukraine during wartime doesn’t undermine its integrity, and shouldn’t be used as a tool to argue against Ukraine’s independence. It is a basic right in an independent country, which people have put their lives on the line for.
Kateryna Semchuk is Ukraine correspondent for openDemocracy, whose oDR project covers politics and society in post-Soviet states
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