Enough with the Standing Ovations

The most important thing I know about theatre I learned from my father, who, as far as I know, never went to the theatre.

In the fifth grade play I was a cowboy named Wildcat Saddlesore. I guess he rode a lot of horses. There were no horses in the play, and as a fifth grader, I didn’t do any textual analysis on the script. But with a name like Saddlesore, he was sitting on something all day.

The night of the performance, our teacher told us to “Go out there and have fun.” She said if we had fun, the audience would have fun. We might even get a standing ovation.

“A standing ovation,” she explained, “is the highest honor any actor can achieve.”

We did the play. We had fun. We got a standing ovation.

Apparently the teacher lied to us

My dad wasn’t there. He was working his late shift at the factory, but Mom let me stay up to tell him about the success of my theatrical debut.

“Dad!” I shouted as he slouched through the door in his blue overalls, “We got a standing ovation! A standing ovation is the highest honor any actor can achieve!”

“Ah,” he said, “they always give kids standing ovations like that.”
I don’t know if he was just upset that he missed it, or felt guilty for not being there, but what he did, intentionally or not, was teach me a valuable lesson about theatre and life.

Don’t get excited about praise you haven’t earned.

Like I said, I didn’t do any textual analysis. I didn’t hide in my closet and do sense memory exercises. I didn’t get together with other fifth graders and do repetition. I didn’t break down my objectives and intentions. I just recited a bunch of words while standing around in a cowboy hat and a red handkerchief. That’s what all of us did. Except Katy the Gambling Lady. Her handkerchief was blue.

And for this we got a standing ovation?

For many years I have written, performed, and toured one-man shows in theaters on both coasts. I’ve won some awards and even had some standing ovations. I’d like to think I earned them. But I don’t know.

I’ve been to a lot of other solo shows. Some of them have been terrific. Many of them have … not. But if there is one place you can get a standing ovation for the least amount of effort, it’s in the one-person show. Solo theatre is the only place I know where all you have to do is fart to get a standing ovation.

“That was so brave,” the audience will tell you afterward. “The way you just stood there and farted like that.”

As far as I know, that only happens in the theatre. It certainly doesn’t happen at my house. Believe me, I’ve tried. My wife calls me a lot of things, but the word brave isn’t in there.

I don’t mean to be a jerk. But if I come see your show, you’re going to have to make me stand up. I’m not getting to my feet just because you memorized a lot of words and put on a period costume. And I’m definitely not going to stand up just because you fart. Unless I’m standing up to leave.

I almost got killed for this

The worst solo performance I ever saw got a standing ovation. Before the show, it was announced that the performer had lost her voice because she “smoked too many blunts.”

When the lights came up she was crouched, center stage, doing something that approximated singing. Or coughing. Or channeling the spirit of a dead hyena with a head cold. It was hard to tell. After an hour of incomprehensible whispering punctuated by rude gestures and the periodic waving of a baby blanket, the lights went down.

And the audience went wild.

I applauded, but I didn’t stand up. Listen — I’ve written, produced, and performed theatre on both coasts. I know how hard it is. So anytime somebody writes, produces, and performs their own show, they’re going to at least get some applause from me. Yay. You did something. You didn’t do it well, but you did it. Which is more than most people do. So yeah, I gave her some applause for that.

But I didn’t stand up.

The looks I got. Sheesh. Turns out all the other seats were occupied by members of her immediate and extended family. It’s the only time I thought I might be murdered by someone’s grandmother. But you know what? I’m not going to give you a standing ovation just because grandma might knife me if I don’t. I have principles. You want me to stand up? Do something that gets me to my feet.

Even Broadway has been infected

An actor friend, just returned from New York, described his experience seeing a new Broadway show.

“It was ok,” he shrugged. “I guess you have to give everyone a standing ovation these days.”

No. You don’t.

Stop doing it. And stop expecting it.

Look, if your momma wants to give you a standing ovation because she’s proud of her baby, fine. But I don’t think she’s doing you any favors.

Most people who read this will think I’m some crotchety old man who wants to get his money’s worth at the theatre. I know, I know. That’s so elitist. I also know it’s not going to happen. Not so long as everyone expects a participation trophy just for memorizing words and wearing cowboy hats.
So I have a solution.

Don’t sell tickets

Pay the audience to take them. Sure, I have my principles, but they can be bought. If you want to pay me to give you a standing ovation, I can do that.
But I’m going to charge more if you fart.