In this age of austerity, it is very easy to take a sniffy and dismissive attitude to the arts. “Why save a theatre when you can save a hospital?” appears to be the popular discourse. Indeed, this seems to be the view of Westminster Council, representing one of the most mixed boroughs in the country, which has just taken the decision to axe its entire arts and culture budget, with worrying consequences for projects at the Soho Theatre in nurturing up-and-coming talent, and the English National Ballet in their work with those with Parkinson’s disease.

It is the duty therefore of those who work in theatre and the arts to dispel the myth that theatre is purely a white, middle-class plaything, a hobby which can look after itself thank-you-very-much.

The primary question is, then: who is theatre for? One quick glance at the audience in Wicked, Les Miserables or The Lion King will reveal large numbers of both internal and external tourists, whose bums-on-seats help sustain the West End machine. Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s venture in Saturday night television has also brought in new audiences, young families who are perhaps experiencing live theatre for the first time. They hardly fit the stereotype so easily bandied about by those who see the arts as an easy target.

But what about London’s diverse Off-West End theatres, venues such as the Tricycle in Kilburn, the Unicorn by London Bridge, or the Hackney Empire? To accuse these theatres, these homes to so many new and exciting pieces of work and community projects, of harbouring elitist audiences is perverse to the extreme. I suggest that those who condemn the arts for being in their own bubble check out the annual panto at the Hackney Empire, often starring the multi-talented Clive Rowe, and see for themselves how well it goes down with local residents.

For me, a great example of good practice in this area is the Taking Part team at the Young Vic. I was very proud to work recently as Project Assistant for the Young Vic’s Schools Theatre Festival, working with four local schools from Southwark and Lambeth in putting on a piece of theatre starring 94 Year 9s in front of their proud family and friends. These young people were about as diverse as they come, hailing from across continents, faiths, languages and upbringings. They were united by theatre. It was the first time that vast majority of the students had ever performed before, for many it would be the first time their families had seen them engage with an extra-curricular activity. For many more, it was the first time they had been to a theatre.

In the feedback forms given to all participants, under the question “What did you think of the project?” one student, who had often been difficult in rehearsal, simply wrote, “My Life”. This is what theatre can do, and who theatre can be for. Maria Miller please take note.

Image: on guard

Having been wholly uninterested in anything related to the economics of theatre, I’d managed to get through three years of being a Musical Theatre undergraduate without ever hearing the phrase ‘McTheatre’. Yet, having come across it in Dan Rebellato‘s Theatre & Globalization, the idea has blown my mind.

The derogatory phrase is used to draw a parallel between mega musicals - Phantom, Les Mis, Wicked and the like – and McDonald’s restaurants, in that they all look the same regardless of their location. As Rebellato puts it, “these aren’t new productions; they are franchises”.  In 2008, Phantom of the Opera had a US$5 billion global box office gross which Rebellato states is “about the same as the combined receipts of the current four top-grossing films of all time.” I’m not sure I can even comprehend what this figure will be now in the wake of the 25^th anniversary celebrations.

Cameron Mackintosh, in the 1970s and ’80s, decided he wanted to take the London shows to people who couldn’t make it to the West End. Although this might seem like artistic altruism, it also benefits producers, as all these other locations act as a giant advertisement for the original productions. However, it also kills the uniqueness of theatre, with actors often slaves to showy sets or costumes. These are part of the brand – people go to see Miss Saigon just for the helicopter flying in – yet, as Rebellato points out, the same is not true of the performers, as “in McTheatre even the biggest star is replaceable.” A potentially positive side of McTheatre is the building of new theatres around the world to house these massive shows. Yet this, too, is problematic – these theatres seat so many and often aren’t built with acoustics in mind that they are unable to house other kinds of theatre.

Given the costs of producing these big shows, it’s hardly surprising they take every opportunity to cash in. The Lion King has a reputed production cost of US$20 million, not including the large running cost of the show. A show can easily take a year to turn a profit but there is a chance this Disney epic will never make its money back. Yet whilst the show loses money, the endless pushing of merchandise – everything from mugs to key rings, souvenir brochures to T-shirts – ensures it makes enough to keep running.

It does seem sad when parts of theatre have become so commercialised. Yet for many of us musical theatre fans, a piece of McTheatre was what we first saw and what got us into the genre. Much as we might rail against Mackintosh and these big productions, they are generating and inspiring future performers and audiences. As in cinema, we need our epic blockbusters as well as our indies for rounded creativity.

Catharsis is a Greek word meaning ‘cleansing’ or ‘purification’. Aristotle explains catharsis as the “purging of the spirit of morbid and base ideas or emotions by witnessing the playing out of such emotions or ideas on stage”. Many of us have cried our hearts out over the love story in The Notebook and felt better for the release of emotion. Often we seek that release – when I feel sad I will purposefully watch that film to re-set myself. So how does catharsis work in theatre – and specifically musical theatre?

Another choice quote from Aristotle about the power of music on an audience is: “All experience a certain purge [catharsis] and pleasant relief…cathartic melodies give innocent joy to men”. This is a beautiful way of understanding how music affects us as humans; I see this everyday with my disabled sister and how certain songs will send her into a trance (notably ‘What If’ by Kate Winslet). The most obvious example of catharsis within musicals are the more tragic ones – I had a university friend who loudly sobbed during a performance of Les Miserables much to the chagrin of her fellow theatregoers. I usually get a little bit teary over Judi Dench singing ‘Send in the Clowns’ from A Little Night Music, proving a strong voice isn’t always needed to pull at an audience’s emotions.

But the emotional release doesn’t just come from watching people from 19^th century France die – it can also occur more profoundly when set in ‘real life’. 1950’s New York would have had a very strong reaction to West Side Story when it was originally presented, as that tension between Americans and Puerto Ricans was really taking place at the time. Stephen Sondheim’s non-linear show Company also presents a real life take on relationships, and for all its witty lyrics, you can’t help but be a bit emotional when Robert sings ‘Being Alive’, where he muses that life really is better lived when sharing it with another. You also don’t need a three hour show to reach that point emotionally; it can be achieved in a single song, as songwriter Scott Alan proves – this song gave me chills the first time I heard it and Hadley Fraser acts it so well.

So can catharsis only be achieved through tragedy and sadness? For me the answer is no – laughter and amazement also cause an emotional release. People still walk out of shows such as The Lion King in a daze from the spectacle they saw on stage. Also the power of comedy shouldn’t be forgotten; crying from laughter also provides an emotional relief, which is what shows such as Book of Mormon and Avenue Q achieve – they give you an adrenalin rush.

Catharsis is a fabulous word in itself, but it is a necessary tool in the entertainment genre and is often the main want of an audience: to be moved in whatever way that piece offers. Even king of alienation Bertolt Brecht saw its importance, noting how it could be used as a social tool to change the world we live in. So, what shows get you there emotionally? Mine are probably Oklahoma! for the feel good adrenalin high and Les Miserables for a complete sob fest.

Image by Phil Shirley.

Dubious. A word I would use to describe my views regarding movies that have been turned into musicals. I have always pegged them as a lesser musical, right up there with jukebox musicals as lacking originality. The West End is currently dominated by movie adaptations: Shrek, Ghost, Wizard of Oz, The Lion King, Billy Elliot, Singin’ in The Rain, Top Hat and, until recently, Legally Blonde. I would also argue Matilda gets a large amount of its audience from people of my generation who were obsessed with the film – whilst the stage show may be based on the book, the film has helped guarantee a fraction of its audience.

I seem to constantly find myself re-assessing my views on musicals, which probably goes with the ever-evolving nature of theatre. So recently I asked myself if adapting films is any different to adapting novels. Many of the great shows are based on novels: Phantom of the Opera, Showboat, Oklahoma! and Les Miserables, to name a few. In fact if you look closely, very few musicals are complete originals. Rodgers & Hammerstein only ever wrote one completely original show, Allegro, and it flopped. They earned their keep in the art of adaptation.

Maybe I simply made a low-brow/high-brow judgement and assumed literary adaptions are better on an intellectual level. However, Hammerstein would change the original stories, such as the musical Carousel which is based on the play Liliom. The play ends with Liliom failing in his quest to help his teenage daughter and is presumably sent to hell. In the musical Billy fails but then redeems himself by admitting his love for Julie and makes it to heaven. I can’t help but wonder if we could get away with such deviation in the plot in film adaptations, or if audiences would be disappointed that it isn’t how they saw it on screen. And it isn’t just me being given food for thought and questioning the current trend – Michael Billington of the Guardian wrote an article earlier this year on the effect film has on theatre: “I worry that theatre today is becoming lazily dependent on cinematic content”.

It isn’t just the form I am re-assessing, but also the shows themselves. Ghost – The Musical is based on the film, yet has a completely new score except for ‘Unchained Melody’. I understand why it was used; I can imagine fans of the film demanding refunds because that song is so synonymous with the film for them. The writers of Ghost don’t let it detract from the rest of the score though – songs like ‘With You’ break your heart just like the film, and its modern staging and special effects are also a draw in their own right. It’s this avoidance of using song and music from the films that has made me re-consider my original viewpoint, as many movie adaptations have a completely original score.

For producers, adapting stories we already know has always given a level of security because you already have a guaranteed audience. This is what helps musicals: We Will Rock You was panned by the critics on opening night but audiences loved it for the popular Queen songs. Film and cinema dominate our cultural identity so it makes sense that we would turn to them for stories to turn into musicals and long will it continue. Yet I will always have a slight initial unease about these musicals despite how good the shows are. For me I think Billington sums it up: “I just wish the writers of new musicals would occasionally look beyond Hollywood hits for their inspiration”.

Image credit: Simon Shek