Can we keep compassion at the heart of the conversation about content warnings, please?
This is the last thing I will write about Ralph Fiennes, I promise. Plus: three shows to see next week.
Hello, and welcome to The Crush Bar, a newsletter about theatre written by Fergus Morgan.
This is the free, Friday issue, which usually contains a Q&A with an exciting theatremaker or an essay on an theatre-related topic - this week, it features some anonymous artists and audience members sharing their thoughts on content warnings, in the hope of establishing a more temperate, compassionate conversation about them - plus some show recommendations.
In case you missed it, here is Tuesday’s issue of Shouts And Murmurs, which is a weekly round-up of the most interesting reviews, interviews and other articles on theatre elsewhere. Usually it is for paid supporters, but this week’s issue is paywall-free so you can see what it looks like…
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You are probably sick of reading about content warnings this week. I am sick of reading about them. I am sick of writing about them, too: they featured a bit in last Friday’s issue of The Crush Bar, then Tuesday’s issue of Shouts And Murmurs. I promise this is the last thing I will write about them.
The whole conversation about content warnings cropped up because of comments made by Ralph Fiennes and Matt Smith in separate interviews to the BBC’s Laura Keunssberg. “When I was young we never had trigger warnings for shows,” reminisced Fiennes, with a wolfish grin, agreeing with Keunssberg that audiences have “gone soft.” “I agree with Ralph, utterly and completely,” drawled Smith. “I worry sometimes that we are moving towards a sanitised version of everything, and we are stripping the danger and invention and the ingenuity. Isn’t art meant to be dangerous?”
As discussed last week, I have found a lot of the discourse about these comments shallow, polarising and distracting. My biggest frustration is not with Voldemort or Doctor Who, though, who I think are good guys, but with Keunssberg, who chose to quiz them about content warnings instead of – I don’t know – the collapse of the arts industry. If I were a Tory, I would be delighted that the BBC’s flagship political magazine show dedicated time to stirring up a culture war, instead of examining what 14 years of underfunding has done to this country’s cultural institutions.
If we really have to discuss content warnings in theatre, though, then let’s at least do so with some integrity and understanding. Let’s have a grown-up, constructive conversation that avoids accusations of censorship or cowardice. Instead of interviewing famous actors about them, let’s speak to those who are affected by them and those involved with designing them. That is what I have been doing over the last week: an anonymous mini-survey of theatremakers and theatregoers, discussing their experiences with content warnings. Here is what they had to say…
Some shared extremely difficult experiences with shows that had no content warnings…
“I never used to read content warnings until I went through the trauma of my dad’s suicide last year. When I returned to seeing theatre, I learnt the hard way that I had now become someone who needed them. I had an awful experience of suicide being depicted in a show only a few months after my dad’s death. The specifics of the staging were so - for want of a better word - triggering. I had a panic attack and was found on the floor of the foyer by staff. I now use trigger warnings to avoid anything like this happening again. I live with my trauma. I don’t need to relive it in the theatre.”
Some shared how they used content warnings to avoid seeing a show entirely…
“My sister often passes out during scenes that feature childbirth or abortion. She sometimes has fit-like symptoms including groaning and shuddering. Several times, content warnings have kept us from going to shows where we would probably have made a scene and had to leave. It saves us money and saves the theatre aggro.”
Some shared other examples of content warnings working well during a show…
“A friend of mine has anxiety and finds loud noises extremely stressful, particularly gunshots. Because of the warning signs at a Shakespeare play, we were able to speak to an usher and find out exactly when the gunshots would be. This meant my friend wasn’t on edge for the whole show, preparing herself for the bang,. It made the whole experience less stressful for her.”
Some shared their experience with the industry’s inconsistent approach to providing them…
“I’ve found that the content warning process varies enormously from production to production, venue to venue. Sometimes the venue has an established procedure and asks about warnings as soon as the show is booked. Sometimes it is a last-minute scramble. Occasionally it’s been a reactive thing - an audience member has made a comment or, in rare cases, a complaint.”
And some shared their opinion that sometimes content warnings were too specifically written or too obviously displayed, spoiling a show’s plot for everyone - but, perhaps tellingly, I did not hear of any specific examples of this happening in theatre. Apparently, it is more of a thing in film and television.
What can we learn from this? What reasonable conclusions can we come to?
Well, obviously there is a need for content warnings: no-one wants a theatre performance to be disturbed by someone with a having a panic attack, least of all the person having it. As Andrew Miller wrote in The Stage earlier this week, for those with diagnosed conditions, content warnings are an access requirement, much like ramps for wheelchairs or hearing loops for D/deaf people. Perhaps there is also a need for some shows to take more care in the process they use to publish them: no-one wants a plot-twist spoiled, but no-one wants to be sent spiralling by surprise.
Clearly, I would also conclude, there is a need for an industry standard of producing and publicising content warnings: a guide to what needs a content warning and how they should be publicised. This is something Lyn Gardner suggested in The Stage back in 2019 and I am a bit astonished that more has not been done to develop one.
I am aware, of course, that there is another controversial conversation here about PTSD, “hierarchies of trauma”, free speech, and all that stuff – I would recommend this episode of Jon Ronson’s Things Fell Apart, which explores that debate with empathy and insight – but I am not convinced it is particularly relevant here.
People’s behaviour on Twitter/X might suggest otherwise, but the theatre industry is not full of people intent on instigating culture wars at every opportunity, nor people lying about the trauma they have suffered. It is not full of cry-babies who cannot stand the slightest discomfort, nor intolerant arseholes who cannot walk past a sign without harrumphing. It is full of people who want to make incredible art in a responsible way, and people that want to witness that art without genuinely risking their welfare.
I’m not even sure Ralph Fiennes or Matt Smith actually give too much of a shit about content warnings: they were only poked into giving a quick opinion because a lazy journalist wanted a viral clip. And, if you don’t need content warnings yourself and you really stop and think about it, I’m not sure you are bothered about them either.
Yet again, I find myself concluding with a cry to keep empathy and understanding at the heart of all the conversations we have about theatre, including this one about content warnings. We should be respect everyone’s ability to draw their own boundaries and we should respect someone’s right to enter a show oblivious to what they are about to see. These things are not mutually exclusive after all. They just require a bit of compassion. If we lose that compassion, there is no point having a theatre industry worth publishing content warnings for.
Three shows to see next week
Escaped Alone - Tron Theatre, until March 9
Caryl Churchill’s four-handed was first performed at the Royal Court in 2016. Now, it makes its Scottish premiere in a production directed by Joanna Bowman at the Tron Theatre. Blythe Duff, Anne Kidd, Irene Macdougall and Joanna Tope star as four older women, chatting in a back garden about breakfast, television, and the unfolding apocalypse. It runs in Glasgow until March 9, then transfers to Edinburgh’s Traverse Theatre for five performances. You can get tickets via the button below.
Frankenstein - various, until May 2
Endlessly innovative company Imitating The Dog’s latest show is an adaptation of Mary Shelley’s famous gothic novel. It is less multimedia than previous work - 2020’s Night Of The Living Dead, 2021’s Dracula, 2023’s Macbeth - recasting the story as a radio drama that is acted out by a young, unexpectedly pregnant couple in their own home. The Stage’s Chris Bartlett found it “a boldly theatrical and immersive experience” and gave it four stars. You can get tickets for its extensive tour via the button below.
Hir - Park Theatre, until March 16
American actor and writer Taylor Mac’s black comedy Hir has become something of a cult classic since its 2015 premiere. Set in a family home in which the father has become incapacitated after a stroke, the mother has taken control of the house, their child Max has transitioned and started using new pronouns, and their son Isaac has just been discharged from the army, the play is distillation of the culture wars that have come to define American society. Steven Kunis revival, which features Desperate Housewives star Felicity Huffman, runs at the Park Theatre until mid-March and has garnered some glowing reviews. You can get tickets via the button below.
That’s all for this issue
That is it for this week. If you want to get in touch about anything raised in this issue - or anything at all, really - just reply to this newsletter or email me at fergusmorgan@hotmail.co.uk. Or you can find me on Twitter/X, where I am @FergusMorgan.
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Fergus