THE BEHAVIOUR OF AUDIENCES

New Zealand Listener, Volume 17, Issue 424, 8 August 1947, Page 10

THE BEHAVIOUR OF AUDIENCES

-It Could Sometimes Be Better

HERE were lively scenes in the Wellington Town Hall at the last concert given by the Boyd Neel Orchestra before it went south. At 8 o'clock Their Excellencies arrived; Boyd Neel was on the platform waiting to begin, but at the main entrance to the stalls a grim combat raged. A considerable proportion of the audience was still outside the hall, trying to get in, contrary to the wishes of the

ushers who were equally determined that they should not. The crowd pressed urgently against the doors which the ushers, playing Variations on a Theme of Horatius, strove to keep closed. To a music-lover the noise was not much less than bedlam and the sight of Boyd Neel having to watch and wait for a silence which was so long in eqming brought the blush of shame and embarrassment to the sensitive cheek. The nbdise died down after a while, but large numbers of the crowd were still outside,’

and of those who had got in several found they had been deprived of their rightful seats in the confusion. Many of those who were unable to get into their seats in time had been lining up since a quarter to eight, though they had reserved their seats days in advance. One of the troubles seems to have been a shortage of ushers (the few there were worked hard enough) and another the inadequacy of the entrances available. Without perhaps the same degree of intensity, the contretemps was repeated at Boyd Neel’s return concert in Wellington on July 23; and I have seen the same thing occurring, to a lesser extent, before. No Compliment to the Artists At the same time it must be said that it isn’t only inadequate ushering which causes these hold-ups; there is also evidence of excessive late-coming to these concerts — and this probably — isn’t peculiar to any one place in New Zealand. At a recent Kraus-Pikler recital where the audience was only small, the start of the concert was, for some reason, held up by the artists for 15 minutes, but at 8.15, when it began, the audience was still trickling in, and this was certainly. not due to bottlenecks at the entrance. Similarly, at the Boyd Neel concert on July 23, it was nearly 8.40 before the last arrivals were seated, and the start of the first two items on the programme was ‘held up as a result. Another thing I noticed about the Boyd Neel audience to which I referred earlier was that those who were unable to batter their way in and had to wait. outside until the end of the first number did not wait quietly, but stood and gossiped

in a manner quite audible to those sitting inside nearest the door (and of these unfortunates I was one). Other Places, Other Ways The behaviour of audiences seems to vary from one country to another, and often from one town to the next. For instance, Nicholas Bentley, in his book Ballet Hoo, describes a performance of ballet during which the dancers became so engrossed in the numerous quaint activities of the audience that they drew

up property chairs and, comfortably seated, watched the impromptu show in the auditorium to its end, and applauded when it was finished. However, the seating arrangements in the Wellington Town Hall do not offer much scope for what Mr. Bentley called "Ye olde English technique of ye Late Box Entry" and I ‘have noticed few attempts at personal exhibitionism of this nature, Over-dressing seems to have passed with the war, too. In any case, I doubt if even the most expensive of dresses or the most immaculate suit of tails would look well on one of the seats of the type used for the stalls, which (according to the Mayor of Wellington, in his reply to a recent criticism) are part of the Town Hall equipment because they are the most, suitable type for people to stand on in their excitement when they attend wrestling and boxing contests.

In the theatres of England (where, because of a gross lack of concert halls, most performances of music, opera, and ballet are held) smoking is permitted and eating and drinking are encouraged by the serving of coffee and sandwiches in the intervals, and there is also a bar. Untold gallons of drink and tons of food are consumed _ yearly. The result is that after each interval (there are often several) the hall resounds to the clattering of cups and "saucers, the stumbling

of members of the audience who have ignored the warning bell and are trying to push their way back to their seats in the dark, and the chatter of those who, mellowed by food and drink and with a cigarette going, have begun a conversation during the interval and are more concerned with what each other has to say than with what is happening on the stage. Indian Audiences Crack Nuts New Zealnnd audiences, I note, are not above doing a certain amount of talking during a’ performance and they are adept-especially in cinema theatres -at the art of rummaging in paper bags and crackling chocolate wrappers. But even this is not so bad as the habit which prevails in India of cracking nuts between the seat and its frame. It was in Inca that I attended a performance of Uday Shankar’s Indian ballet and was continually being distusbed by mem- ; bers of the audience chattering to each ¥ other and wandering about, while an old man of apparent high degree, who turned up about half-an-hour late to occupy a stage-box, shouted orders to his aide-de-camp, the latter waving his arms by way of response and sending lesser minions sCurrying on errands, mostly between where I was sitting and the stage -and this all the while the show was in progress. English and New Zealand audiences are not as bad as that. I think the cinema is partly to blame for the bad behaviour of our concert audiences: it gets them into bad habits. In picture-theatres the volume of sound is so great that it takes a lot of noise from the occupants of the auditorium to have any widespread effect, and there are no celebrities to offend, All the samg conditions in this respect aren’t as bad here as in England, where most cinema shows are continuous, with the result that people are coming and going the whole time, and ice-cream vendors wander about throughout the performances. Indiscriminate Applause Another nuisance to the keen concertgoer is indiscriminate applause. It seems almost that there are members of most audiences whose prime wish is to beat their hands together, and do so at every opportunity. Their enthusiasm in this activity occasionally gives the impression of passing beyond a sincere and (continued on’ next page)

a ain (continued from previous page) spontaneous tribute to a good performance, and resolves itself into a kind of tug-of-war or endurance test between audience and performers with the object of seeing how many encores the latter can be persuaded to contribute. There have been attempts, notably in Germany, to do away with all expressions of emotion by audiences. Such attempts have seldom succeeded, but an American friend of mine told me a story ‘of a visit she once paid to a performance in Germany of one of Wagner’s operas, in one of those opera houses where a Wagnerian evening is (or was) regarded as an almost sacred occasion: The leading soprano, a majestic Saxon blonde, swept on to the stage, tripped, and fell into the orchestra pit. The only sound from the auditorium was, the roar of American laughter from my

friend.

J.M.D.

H.