Mobile phones are to live theatre what caster sugar is to car engines. But, in this era of blogging, live-tweeting and online Twitter performances, are the performing arts finally getting smart...?
Last week I was invited to live-tweet my way through a 3D Hong Kong pornographic film called Sex and Zen: Extreme Ecstasy. This, I believe, is what they call “building up an editorial reputation.”
Sadly, I had to decline the generous offer. For, while I like nothing more than describing the ejaculatory arc of a philosophical fluid in 140 characters or less, some of us have a job to do. A day job, I mean.
The invitation did, however, get me thinking. For, as I stare down the Vaseline-smeared lens of future cultural criticism I cannot but wonder if this kind of caper could ever take off in the theatre. Not 3D pornography – we’ve seen how well it goes down when performers bring their orifices to the audience in all three dimensions with Dave St-Pierre’s nude dance show Un Peu de Tendresse Bordel de Merde – but live-tweeting and live-blogging a performance.
With Artistic Directors like Kevin Spacey threatening to all-but-insert any mobile communication device up your socket, it seems a tad unlikely. No one wants to be the one to give Richard III the hump, especially with an ill-timed update.
You see, while the glow of a smart screen will annoy your fellow cinemagoers, the actors on the big screen will be blithely unaware whether you’re on the phone, on Twitter or turning naked cartwheels up the aisle. That’s the magic of cinema.
Tweeting in the theatre is a different kettle of kippers altogether. Not only do you run the risk of being hoisted by the petard of your fellow stall-members; the very actors you have paid to watch will come down on your iFooling like a tonne of bricks.
Which isn’t to say that theatre remains untweetable – far from it. Last year the RSC, Channel 4 and the digital production firm Mudlark masterminded a performance of Romeo and Juliet entirely on Twitter. The two hours' traffic of our stage, The which if you with patient clicks attend, What here shall miss, our timeline shall strive to mend, if you want to be a dick about it.
Across the pond, the snappily named New York Neo-Futurists challenged their followers to write an entire play – including at least two roles and a significant prop – in just one tweet. The responses, which you can find on their blog are, understandably, patchier than a 13-year-old’s beard, although I did enjoy this entry by @earbox: "Iron Maiden enter. They play one hell of a chord. The audience’s faces all melt. Iron Maiden exit. Fin."
And what if these so-called tweeting thespians are, in fact, nothing more than overweight Cheeto-munching baseball fans from Arkansas, playing us for a merry dance? Well, you could always meet up with them to see for yourself. This Friday is the annual knees up of Twespians who are, as their name may suggest, a motley collection of theatre people who meet up, drink up and cheer up.
If you have a love of stage antics and a concrete liver, then sign up and I’ll see you there.
Illustration by Narcsville.