‘I loved the show,’ actor Nick Waxman would have been happy if they’d stopped there. A simple accolade like that is all most performers need to go home happy - but they weren’t done yet. ‘And I should know, I’ve seen ‘Cats’.
Backhanded compliments, words of advice, uncredentialed reviewers, well-meaning relatives and unhinged over-sharers. This is the definitive, insiders guide to verbal, unedited, audience reviews delivered straight to the unsuspecting performer’s face.
Late last year I was doing a meet and greet after my show ‘Double Feature’ in the foyer of the Wangaratta Performing Arts Centre. A diminutive, curly haired woman strode up to me with the purposeful gait of an Olympic Torch relay participant. Up until that moment, the interactions had all been lovely, but forgettable.
‘I’m so glad Pam changed my mind and talked me in to coming to this. I loved it.’
I thanked her, but out of curiosity, I asked why she nearly didn’t come.
‘I thought it would be shit. But it wasn’t. I normally hate theatre, but this was different. It was funny and, I don’t know … not shit.’
For the performer, post show interactions have the potential to either taint or enhance a show experience. This particular exchange made my day, and by and large, I’m happy to mingle with the audience after the show. There are others though, who would sooner climb out of the dressing room window, descend a drainpipe and escape down a darkened laneway, rather than risk meeting even one expectant fan.
However, often the choice is taken out of the performer’s hands. Other than lowering a tender and rowing to shore, cruise ship entertainers are unable to escape their audience. On P&O Comedy Cruises, I’ve been given verbal audience feedback whilst trapped in a lift, running on a treadmill and getting a massage. Equally, small hall touring rarely affords a private retreat, with the dressing room long since been given over to the storage of the Rotary spinning wheel, Christmas decorations and carpet bowls equipment. Subsequently, as the show comes down, I’m left with little choice but to wander through the trestle tables. By the time I reach the supper spread, I’ve already been asked … ‘How do you remember all the lines?’’ … ‘Where’s your next show?’ and ‘ What have I seen you on?’
As I do some much regional touring, and much of it with a community engagement focus, I actually consider post show interactions to be an essential part of that process. For this reason, I always make myself available, ideally after giving myself a few minutes to recalibrate … in the room full of badminton equipment, exercise balls and micro bats.
This past week I was touring ‘Newk: The John Newcombe Story’ (by Kieran Carroll). After the show I invited audience members onto the stage to have their photo taken with Newk at the Cinzano Bar. This gave those that had some connection to the Newk story a chance to share their stories, revel in the nostalgia or, more commonly, to comment on my physical appearance.
‘You looked taller from down there’ … ‘Golly Gwen, doesn’t he look younger up close’ … ‘Those shorts don’t leave much to the imagination.’
Unsolicited feedback based on physical appearance is unfortunately all too common. Generally speaking, male comedians get off lightly, with female and transgender performers being subjected to more uninvited critiques. Comedian, actor Susie Youseff, played a male Italian police officer in an all-female version of Dario Fo’s ‘Accidental Death of an Anarchist’. An audience member commented afterwards …
‘You’re a very good-looking man, and a relatively good looking woman.’
Comedian, singer and keynote speaker Jenny Wynter, was once told …
‘You’re very funny and you have a lovely singing voice, but dear, you have these pub legs’.
Another agenda was at play with this exchange with comedian Alice Fraser.
‘I come to see you with my boyfriend every year! I think he has a crush! We’ll have to find a you-lookalike for our next threesome! Unless you’re free on Saturday?’
Proving that men are not entirely immune to physical appraisal, theatre composer and musician Stuart Day, copped this after a gig
‘You have such a lovely singing voice. If I heard you on the radio, I'd think you were really handsome.’
At a steamy Now Drowning Waving gig in Brisbane, composer, singer and piano player David Bridie was advised during the break between sets that he should avoid wearing singlets as … ‘his tuck shop arms were wobbling.’
The overwhelming majority of the direct comments given by audience members are positive, but the human condition is such that we are wired to immediately forgot those moments and to retain the negative. And let’s be honest, you’re not reading this piece in the hope of reading that a woman from Port Fairy thought that I had ‘a very watchable gait’. You’re here to read the brutal put downs.
Comedian Mick Meredith recalls doing a gig early in his career to an older audience on the Central Coast of NSW
‘Everyone bombed including me. This elderly lady came up after the show and said to me, “My husband just passed away and I thought I’d come down to some comedy to cheer me up. It didn’t work’
Trumpet player Dave Pace received this burn after a Painters & Dockers gig.
‘Second best show I’ve seen……today’
Storytelling comedian Jon Bennett somehow managed to have a put down morph into babysitting duties.
‘A man approached me on a cruise ship and said “I didn’t like your show very much, but my 10 year old did. Would you mind sitting with him for a while?” Then left his kid with me for 45 minutes.’
Not all put downs end badly, as evidenced by this recollection from Richard Higgins from kids comedy duo, ‘The Listies’
‘We were at the Dublin Fringe and an older couple came up to us and said, ‘We had low expectations coming to this show, and I have to say, you met them.’ … but then they bought us pints and were hilarious.’
However, for creative brutality, it’s hard to go past this yarn from playwright Finegan Krukemeyer.
‘Doing terrible street theatre as a teenager and we're all standing frozen in a crowd when a guy walks past, slips a card in my suit pocket and whispers: 'I'm an agent. Call me'. Later as we're all having a smoko, I remember and proudly take out the card to show the others. It's just a bus ticket and on it the guy's written: 'You're all shit - go home'.
While a harsh quip from a stranger might sting, it’s usually the feedback of family and friends that cuts the deepest. Well-meaning loved ones often feel compelled to say something. Comedian and author Adam Vincent didn’t have to wait until after the show to get his family’s feedback.
‘My mum, having dragged the same people to my show two nights running - "C'mon Adam, put some energy into it, you're funnier than this!"
Playwright and actor Kate Mulvany has contributed this trifecta of familial commentary.
‘Didn’t understand a word of it, but you spoke very clearly.’
‘How about you up there, just then?’
‘Sorry the curtain broke.’ (It was a kabuki drop.)
Comedian and comedy writer Ray Matsen had to contend with some unexpected career advice from his dad.
‘Early days I was in a sketch group in Perth. We did a Xmas show at a pub and a lot of my relatives came. I sat down with them after the show and asked what they thought. First thing dad said was, ‘Your Uncle Kerry is building a fence ‘round his property. Said he might have some work for you digging holes.”
Comic actor Genevieve Morris’s story starts as a Greek Tragedy, but turns into a Comedy.
‘After an extraordinarily long and somewhat self-indulgent highbrow piece of theatre that my flatmate at the time was performing in, I waited with her beautiful Greek parents for her to come out to the foyer. We made small talk and touched on the fact that we didn’t really understand or enjoy the piece. So, when my flatmate found us in the foyer she said “So… what did you think?” We all paused a bit awkwardly and then her father in his rich Greek accent piped up with…. “We got a good park!!’
If you’re are ever oscillating between giving unsolicited words of advice after a show or keeping it yourself, the latter is always the right option. There is a special restricted viewing row in hell for those who give unfiltered advice to performers fresh of the stage. Here’s a roll call of performers who’ve fallen victim to unsought opinions.
Actor, Erik Thomson
‘After a performance of Julius Caesar a woman came up to me and said: "I saw this play performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company, now THEY knew how to do Shakespeare”
Producer, Deanna Smart
‘We didn’t understand it the first time, so we came back again’
Comedian, Stef Torok
‘You should try doing some life (nude) modelling for art classes. There’s really good money in that’
Comedian, Lisa Gatenby
“You were almost really funny”
Actor and comedian, Gerard Lane
‘Great job up there guys, you were just…. Not for me.’
Comedian Mark Butler, was given his feedback before he’d even hit the stage.
‘Immediately BEFORE my show at the Adelaide Fringe, a punter said to me, "I saw you last year and I didn't think you were very funny, but I thought I'd give you another go. Anyway, have a good show!"
Of course, there are those who simply can’t wait until after the show to let you know their thoughts. I’m not talking about boorish hecklers here, but more nuanced interjectors. I was recently performing ‘Double Feature’ to a group of Aged Advocacy workers. Mid show, the voice over of my mum revealed a call back to an earlier joke I’d made about an altar boy cull being carried out by the female Catholic youth group, The Children of Mary. As I went to continue on with the show, one of the delegates interrupted.
‘I’m sorry, but are we not going to address the number of altar boys that are going missing?’
Clown and comedian Hew Parham
‘I remember performing ‘Schmoo’, my red nose clown show, and I was fighting a giant inflatable pool noodle in my lycra full body swimsuit and a couple got up from the front row and said leaving: "I'm sorry, it's just too much like home".
Actor, singer and radio presenter Jamie Way confronted a very different kind of audience reaction, when real life unexpectedly intersected with theatre.
‘I was doing the original run of "The Great Pizzarotti" by Peter Cox. My dad died midway through the run and as I'm exiting through the audience in character as this larger-than-life self-absorbed opera star, throwing out big air kisses and flamboyant bows, one lady offers her hand for me to kiss, then looks me dead in the eyes and goes "I'm really sorry to hear about your dad."
The real stars of 'filter free feedback are of course, the KIDS! In particular, the 4-9 year old cohort are notoriously happy to convey their point of view before, during or after the show. Sometimes their thoughts are shared individually, but as I experienced at a Premier’s Reading Challenge visit to junior school students at Altona Primary School, they are capable of delivering withering, collective criticism. This mini riot was actually captured on local news cameras as Education Minister Lynne Kosky was in attendance. In my various roles with the Department of Education, I’d hosted numerous events with Lynne, so before the session, she had been talking me up to the rest of the delegation. Things started smoothly enough, until I attempted to change characters to read as story. Usually the highlight of my performance, I introduced my 9 year old friend Nathan Houlihan, and left the room. Taking on child like affectations and wearing a primary school legionaries cap, I returned. Before I could begin to read, a kid stood up and screamed ‘It’s just you with a hat on!!’ His observation was immediately taken on board by the entire cohort, and within seconds they began to chant … ‘Not real! Not real? Not real?’ The chant only ended when Nathan left the room. His exit was met with a triumphant cheer.
Richard Higgins from ‘The Listies’
‘We were playing Swan Hill and a kid put his hand up during the bow and said ‘Jacob brought a knife to school.’
Theatre Director Karla Conway received this feedback on her work.
‘I once was directing a group of 6-7 yr old kids. I asked a kid how he thought it was going. He told me he thought I was "good" but "could be better" if I told them more of "where to go" and less "you're doing a good job".
However, comedian and clown Tessa Waters redemptive story helps us remember that performing to kids is well worth the effort.
‘Just last week after hosting the Bread and Circus Kids Comedy Gala at the Isaac Theatre here in Christchurch, a 10-year-old girl came up to me and said. "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?... Do you own this theatre, and which room is your bedroom?" It reminded me that I used to think Debbie Reynolds lived inside the cake and she jumped out of in Singing in the Rain .... like some kind of delicious tardis.’
When I decided to write this piece, I did a call out on social media and received over 300 responses from the live performance fraternity. I couldn’t publish them all, but you’ve been heard. For the non performers reading this, I hope you’ve been chastened by reading these raw tales from the coal face of live performance and will think twice before unloading on a performer in the foyer. However, if it’s positive feedback, don’t hold back. WE LOVE THAT SHIT!
I’ll leave the final word to actor Don Bridges who probably wished he’d received this intel before he took the gig.
‘After an outdoor Shakespeare performance in Palmerston-Darwin, I was having a chat to the mayor. He casually mentioned that a year earlier, they had pulled two crocs from the lake directly behind the performance space. “Haven’t got around to doing it this year yet.’
Glorious!
Saved this to slowly savour. Delicious. (Def not shit.)