This is Drama Masks, a Bay Area performing arts column from a born San Franciscan and longtime theatre artist in an N95 mask. I talk venue safety and dramatic substance, or the lack thereof. For more of my Year on Stage 2024, see part one (the lows) here, and part two (the highs) here.
I didn’t get to see Oakland Theater Project’s much-talked-about revival of Angels in America last year, but I was happy to end the year with one of 2024’s best shows, which OTP produced. The world premiere production of Marcus Gardley’s A Thousand Ships was the perfect amalgamation of local theatre (the Oakland-born Gardley wrote an Oakland-set story), Black perspectives, world events (the story takes place during the 2008 presidential election), and collaboration between independents (the show was a co-production with the now-defunct Cal Shakes.)
As horrible a year as was 2024, this show exemplified one viable way for indie companies to operate in the coming years.
I hate New Year’s resolutions. Like prayers, people treat them like wishes, and when they fail to manifest, it just drives one into a deeper despair. But just hoping for the best and thinking about something else is unhealthy and ignores the ways a person could—and should—take steps to improve the world around them. It’s why, less than one week into 2025, I’ve already attended multiple pro-Palestine demonstrations: I can either sit quietly or I can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Jewish Voices for Peace as we oppose real-time genocide.
In a few weeks, you-know-who returns to the White House. He hates non-profits, he hates the arts, and he hates SF. With a Sisyphean stretch ahead of us, the temptation exists to simply throw up our hands and accept defeat. I’m not gonna do that. Don’t get me wrong: No one should minimize the mental and physical toll the upcoming fight might take, but nothing pisses off this confederacy of man-babies more than when we won’t just roll over and die. Hell, most pre-inauguration headlines have been about MAGA’s constant in-fighting, so this non-administration is already on the verge of imploding before they even take office.
What does that have to do with theatre? I’ll tell you.
Even though Cal Shakes was one of 2024’s more heart-breaking theatre casualties, a major entity like that collaborating with underdogs OTP further proves the efficacy of intersectionality. Both non-profits and theatre troupes have a habit of being fiefdoms, with fellow companies regarded as enemies at the gates. Yet, since the start of the COVID pandemic, theatre companies have leaned even more into sharing seasons and resources as a way of staying functional.
In the three and a half years since I spoke to Sean San José, he’s stayed true to his promise of opening Magic Theatre’s doors for other troupes (Lorraine Hansberry, Crowded Fire). Dani Spinks is making Eclectic Box (the former Stage Werx) a sort of refugee home for companies displaced by the losses of EXIT Theatre and PianoFight. One can only hope the former EXIT folks at Taylor Street Theatre produce the same result.
None of this solves the problems of audience numbers and a lack of funding grants, but it does prove that the loss of traditional resources needn’t be a death sentence. Let’s not forget that go-to places like EXIT Theatre burnished their independent reputation by answering the call when SF seemed like a creative ghost town.
So, what other ideas can companies and venues embrace? I know which ones I’d pick:
- Go all-in on streaming. If it seems like I’ve been saying this for 10 straight years, it’s because I have. It’s time theatre companies and venues realize that streaming isn’t some new-tech fad (remember “Tweet seats?”), but rather a great way to expand audiences and add accessibility for patrons who can’t actually make it to the theatre proper. Keep the prices reasonable, no more than $5/stream). Make the video no less than 1080p: 4K is cheap now). Film the stage properly (overhead cameras looks like security footage), add captions, add DVS, mic the damn stage. It’s ridiculous that companies that refined the stream in 2020 now run from it in the opposite direction, especially since the same COVID danger exists. In fact…
- Add more Safe Shows. Companies that once boasted of COVID safety have all but hidden their (lack of) safety measures on their websites. Yet, they wonder why audiences have dwindled? What’s the point of risking a show when you’ll be surrounded by unmasked mouth-breathers? Aside from Magic Theatre and Crowded Fire, I’m at odds to think of companies that take COVID safety seriously, often hiding their one and only masked matinee deep within the calendar. Companies: Y’know how you’re getting such a great response to haptic performances, sensory-friendly shows, and other measures? Bring back the COVID safety measures and you’ll bring back audiences with them. Take it from someone for whom an abundance of accessibility made for one of the year’s best shows.
- Keep weeding out toxic people. A well-known PoC company held auditions in late-summer. They weren’t getting the number of responses they wanted, so they sent out a major e-mail blast assuring folks that the company is “entering a new era” with “a change in artistic leadership”. If you know the company, you know it’s been a long time coming. Since Bay Area theatre never had a true #MeToo moment, a few horrible people have been allowed to abuse unchallenged. (I know because I’ve been trying to write stories about a few of them.) When companies actually take action and purge themselves of these assholes, it tells us they’re serious about being a welcoming place for artists. We PoC theatre folks haven’t forgotten everyone called out in the infamous “Living Document” of 2020, and we take notes on who’s been serious about change. Take a stand against abusers, esepecially if they’re in your own house. Come to think of it…
- Take a stand. Period. Golden Thread just announced their 2025 season, essentially continuing their 2024 Season for Palestine. Their NCTC co-production of The Tutor was one of the few shows to actually acknowledge the pandemic, despite five years of artistic necessity. One of the few other shows to do so was La Lengua’s Paradi$e, a pro-Puerto Rico show that became all the more timely during the election. Why am I able to count on one hand the number of companies willing to speak out about these things? Most are so eager to not piss off their elderly subscribers that they won’t risk giving those subscribers something to seriously think about. Nor will the companies make any overtly political stance unless it’s safe enough to be mainstream (everyone said “I Stand with Ukraine”, but dead children in Gaza is too hot a topic). Stop trying to dumb things down for elusive mainstream crowds, and make your company stand out producing work that truly represents a point of view. It’s simple math: If people talk about the show after they leave, they’re more likely to come back.
Of course, looking over that lists makes it sound like a collection of wishes, and you know how I feel about those. As much as I’d love to see all of that happen, I know the possibilities of what we could do pale in comparison to what we should do: Be there.
As many ways as you can, given your situation, be there.
- If you frequent only a few companies, take the risk and start seeing shows at companies you’ve never visited before.
- If safety, accessibility, and/or transparency are keeping you away, tell them that—go to these companies’ websites, click “Contact Us”, and tell them you’d be happy to attend if they upped their safety game (and added streaming).
- Bring friends. Bring family. Bring your church group. Bring your book club. Bring your political contacts and say that this show represents everything they stand for or stand against. Even if you’re just taking one person to one show and will never take them again, lead the horse to water.
Opening night of Paradi$e concluded with a La Lengua company member acknowledging that theatre companies were “dropping left and right” before expressing their gratitude at all of us who made our presence on that night. If theatre companies want to survive the incoming shit-show administration, they have to do a better job at letting audiences know that their theatre is a place to both challenge and protect them. That’s what I’ll be looking for.
And yes, I’ll be there.
In a mask.
With my Aranet.
