Spitting, Heckling and Pissing - what's happened to UK theatre audiences?
In this edition:
Shakeup at London’s Almeida and The Old Vic
Review: Robert Icke’s Oedipus
A return to bear baiting? Why audience behaviour in theatres is only getting worse.
Rupert Goold and Rebecca Frecknall head to The Old Vic
After 11 years in charge of The Almeida, my namesake, Rupert Goold, is heading on to fresh pastures. Quite a remarkable tenure off Upper Street has seen 67 productions stages with 14 West End transfers and 11 Broadway transfers. For me, Goold’s best shows have been King Charles III in 2014 written by Mike Bartlett and Ink in 2017 written by James Graham. Other memorable (but slightly disappointing shows) include Bartlett’s Albion in 2017, Peter Morgan’s Patriots in 2022 and Conor McPherson’s Cold War in 2023. What Goold has done though is found spectacular artists to work with, especially in Rebecca Frecknall (A Streetcar Named Desire and currently directing A Cat On A Hot Tin Roof) and Robert Icke (Hamlet and Oresteia which I bang on about later in this newsletter). The Old Vic is an exciting new step - a far bigger venue but a more fickle audience.
Wicked Pitch
Wicked has arrived after what must be one of the most bizarre and meme-able press junkets I can remember… I am yet to see it but will report back.
Rowdy Revellers
Stories of unruly behaviour in theatres seem to be emerging with unsettling regularity. Last week, David Tennant’s Macbeth ground to a halt when an audience member refused to wait for a natural pause before returning to their seat, forcing a 15-minute interruption. They were apparently near the balcony in the circle, very inebriated and staff were worried they’d fall over the edge if manhandled. Last year, during The Bodyguard at Manchester’s Palace Theatre, the police were called to break up an altercation caused by a defiant screecher who refused to stop belting I Will Always Love You. If we are indeed witnessing a surge in disruptive audience behaviour, what lies at its root? Covid? Social media? Today Tix? Alcohol? Magic Mike? Perhaps it is all of these—and more. The theatre has always borne witness to its share of unruliness, and at times even encouraged it. From the boisterous crowds of Roman amphitheaters to the raucous pit of Shakespeare’s Globe, theatres have long been places where excessive drinking, shouting, heckling, and even noisy eating were not anomalies but norms. Today, alcohol remains a central culprit, though it is entangled with deeper financial strains. With dwindling arts funding, theatres have turned to bar sales to bolster their income, but allowing patrons to bring entire bottles of wine into performances invites its own chaos. Endless restroom excursions and the discord they create are only the surface of the problem.
Then there is the cost—astronomical ticket prices, which have soared by 21% since the pandemic, making the theatre an increasingly exclusive luxury. With West End tickets for productions like Cabaret surpassing £350, the stakes for a “perfect” evening become unbearably high. When a fellow audience member’s chatter or ill-timed distraction threatens that experience, tempers flare, and the fragile social contract of the theatre begins to unravel.
Complicating matters further, modern productions have increasingly leaned into audience participation, blurring the lines of what is acceptable. Musicals such as Mamma Mia! invited audiences to clap, sing and even dance, creating a legacy of exuberance that lingers today. Marketing a show as “The Best Party in Town” plants expectations of unbridled freedom that clash starkly with the reverence demanded by a Chekhov play. This dissonance reveals a cultural tension: do we treat the theatre as a sanctuary for silent reflection or a communal space of joyous abandon?
These debates can veer into classist territory, with the unspoken suggestion that working-class newcomers to the theatre lack the decorum of traditional patrons. The oft-repeated mantra that “theatre is for everyone” rings hollow if new audiences are swiftly chastised for breaking unspoken rules. Post-pandemic, a broader societal shift seems to be at play. The collective experience of isolation and the fraught re-negotiation of shared spaces—cafés, trains, theatres—has left us wrestling with competing visions of communal life. Are we seeking connection, or merely tolerating each other’s presence?
Our expectations of theatre etiquette, rooted more in tradition than logic, are at the heart of this tension. Disruption grates because it violates the unwritten code of silence and decorum. Yet, when noise and participation are expressly invited, as in singalong performances or relaxed shows, that irritation dissipates. These offerings help delineate experiences meant to be boisterous from those that demand quiet absorption. However, tightening the rules too far risks alienating the very audiences theatres need to survive. After all, isn’t the essence of live theatre the electric exchange between performer and spectator?
What to see
Ballet Shoes until February 22
My parents loved it - so I imagine you will too. The Australian playwright Kendall Feaver and director Katy Rudd’s adaptation of Noel Streatfeild’s 1936 children’s novel has earned rave reviews.
Reflections
Oedipus at The Wyndham Theatre
Robert Icke’s Oresteia at The Almeida in 2015 was one of the most outstanding pieces of drama I think I will ever see. Icke brings to two thousand year drama sexy sets, a ticking clock, dramaturgical precision and dialogue that sounds normal but is innately poetic. Mark Strong as Oedipus and Lesley Manville as wife/mum Jocasta? Strong’s an extraordinary actor, completely believable as a likeable politician, oozing clubbable charisma. He can do storming physicality and gentle vulnerability – and everything he does is shaded with this earnest desire to find out the truth. And Lesley Manville. The best. She gets to show a bit of ice here. But while she snips and shouts at almost everyone around her, she shows nothing but adoration to Oedipus: smiles and loving eyes. In the meantime, June Watson quietly steals things as Merope, agonised, constantly silenced…until she finally gets to speak.
It’s undeniably clever and cool, glossy and if you can’t get your fill of motherly love, Ella Hickson’s version opens at the Old Vic with Rami Malek and Indira Varma . They must be incredibly pissed off trying to follow this.