Virtual theatre is no longer theatre in its true form

In the words of theatre producer and entertainment lawyer Derrick Chua, “it’s just not the same.” For many in the theatrical community, theatre is ritual at its core, more than a demonstration. Live performance and togetherness are paramount to its integrity; in other words, theatre is about sharing a space and, in turn, energy with other people.^[1] Since music is often experienced alone, one might think that going to a virtual concert or taking online music lessons would be easier and truer to the musical form than it is for theatre. However, Maria McMillian, who is a sophomore at the Thornton School of Music, explains with fervor that music, like many art forms, is not at full capacity if musicians are listening to each other through a computer. She says her learning process “depends so heavily on…being in the same space and playing together in real time. You just can’t recreate that online or on Zoom.” This kind of synchronicity is, in fact, impossible, because online communication comes with an inevitable (albeit small) time lag and requires of us greater effort to emote and communicate. “Collaboration,” says McMillian, is a skill she is practicing, and a computer stands in the way just as it attempts to bring people together. One of the most popular video calling platforms, Zoom, even tends to cut out all voices out but one if people are talking over each other. Imagine a symphony of instruments. McMillian’s program now uses the program Acapella to practice music virtually. However, no matter the solutions we create, it seems that togetherness is not only intrinsic to both theatre and music, but it is also why artists chose their professions.^[2] Laura Collins-Hughes of the New York Times writes of the myriad ways theatre artists are diving into virtual theatre despite the time lags and the lack of applause. She commends the “vigil” the theatre community is engaging in, and has found great value in some virtual theatre she’s seen. However, Collins-Hughes also reminds us that we are paying tribute to storytelling, to performance, to the act of reaching across voids to find each other, just as theatre does. We are paying homage to theatre. We are not, in fact, engaging in theatre in its true form. Essentially, virtual theatre strips the players of their roles. According to Collins-Hughes, actors are to “put on a show” within the same “ecosystem,” and right now, we cannot even safely share breath. This means we are not picking up nonverbal cues the way we do throughout our in-person interactions and we cannot experience each other’s physical energy. The audience is asked “to gather,” which they can feign by logging onto a Zoom show, but they rarely have the chance to see each other, and they are stripped of the conscious choice to exist in the same space no matter their differences. It’s all far more passive.^[3] There is nothing wrong with “keeping the candle lit,” says Collins-Hughes, but we should not mistake and mislead our students or ourselves by implying that this is theatre. In her perspective, theatre has everything to do with accepting another human into your own space, responding to them in the moment, and inviting an audience to breathe the same atmosphere.^[3] It’s always been that way, says Pam MacKinnon, the Artistic Director for the American Conservatory Theater. This does not mean that MacKinnon believes we shouldn’t go virtual; in fact, she has done so herself with her production of Toni Stone, but she urges us to remember that the process we are engaging in is something new. There is no need to pretend we are practicing a contact sport, if you will, when contact is impossible. She asks theatre professors, artists, and students, to find a sort of new occupation with the skills we have. How can we bring people together while, this time, literally apart?^[4]

[P1] Teaching and learning music lacks synchronization that you get in a classroom.