Red Stitch Actor's Theatre, during the day
The curtain had just been called on the night’s performance.
Cheerful bantering gradually spilled out of the squashed confines of the performance section into an equally cramped lobby as patrons wormed their way through the narrow connecting passageway. Rather than viewing it as a source of discomfort, the patrons of the Red Stitch Actors’ Theatre allowed it to facilitate a form of intimacy with the raw emotion of the performance as well as the characters on stage.
Director and cast joined the audience in the lobby as they engaged in discussion over the sheer madness of two men who believed they had to stop an evil scientist working for Coke. Glasses of wine clinked, heartfelt congratulations offered, and sushi served to all present. A grinning Peter Mumford, stage designer for the night, left the reverie for the coolness of the outside air, accompanied by an excited young woman who spotted the nuances in his austere setup. He took a contented drag from his cigarette, pleased that the $600 allocated to him had achieved the same effect as what other major theatre groups required thousands for.
Frugality is a necessity for the men and women of amateur and independent theatre. Unlike the bigger names in the business like the Melbourne Theatre Company, they have to struggle to make ends meet, all in the name of pursuing and supporting their passion.
“I do a lot of stupid jobs,” said Tim Potter, a Red Stitch actor. “I do a lot of corporate acting, which is kind of my bread-and-butter, and is basically to teach the trainees at companies, governmental departments and counsels how to deal with angry customers.”
“I also have to work the bar here… lots of ‘odds and ends’ jobs. Jobs that I don’t particularly like to be doing, but you have to do if you want to survive.”
Mr Potter signed up with Red Stitch after graduating from the Victorian College of the Arts in 2007 as part of a graduate program offered by the theatre to new aspiring actors. While he does hope to eventually be selected by the professional theatre companies, he acknowledges the experience and opportunities offered by the independent theatre scene.
“It’s an environment where there’s other actors that (sic.) you can talk to and share experiences with,” said Mr Potter, before being quizzed at length by Administrator Sonya Suares on his ability to operate the bar’s cash register. She herself hails from a background of acting.
However, Mr Potter says, getting recognised for your work and being accepted to play a satisfactory role in the major theatre companies is no easy feat. May Jasper, co-founder of the independent SNAFU Theatre Company, empathises with this view.
“There are about 200 people who would apply for the crappiest jobs you can think of,” said the bubbly 26 year old, who is currently completing a masters degree in arts management at RMIT University. “That’s what I hear. People who work there; huge amounts of applications for the lowest, entry-level jobs.”
“It’s difficult because everybody wants to work in the arts. Everyone’s like me. They have a lot of experience doing their own stuff but no experience being paid for it.”
Unlike their colleagues at Red Stitch, the smaller production companies such as SNAFU Theatre do not have a dedicated theatre of any size from which to showcase their talents.
“Venue space and rehearsal space is terrifying,” said Ms Jasper. “Finding somewhere to rehearse is a nightmare, particularly for the kind of money you don’t usually have”.
Apart from space concerns, Ms Jasper also spoke of difficulties in gaining recognition and standing out among the myriad other independent theatre groups performing at major events such as the Melbourne Fringe Festival.
It is at this point that many of these groups fail to gain enough recognition, and consequently, patronage or government funding. They eventually bow out from under these economic pressures.
Robert Reid, Artistic Director of the independent Theatre in Decay, estimates the average lifespan of such efforts to be around five years.
“Long-term sustainability is always a bit tricky,” Mr Reid adds. “Once you reach a certain age…You no longer want to be living in suitcases and eating baked beans from the tin.”
“There’s a kind of value to that, for that kind of ascetic lifestyle, but I don’t think it’s sustainable”.
Whether theatre groups like it or not, it appears that governmental aid alone will not solve all their economic woes. Red Stitch’s strategy was to treasure and cherish their patrons, relying on positive word of mouth for publicity.
“They have to stand on their own two feet,” said the elderly Tim Sherwood of South Yarra , sipping his wine as the crowd in the lobby thinned. “And raise their own funds”.
