This book has been about art and violence. Many people believe that the two should never be mixed, that exposure to visual violence can only lead to more actual violence and should therefore never be allowed onstage or on the screen. Although I appreciate the sincerity of those who hold this opinion, it fails to take a couple of points into account.
Violence in Art as Storytelling
Violence is a storytelling device. We as theatre artists are required to tell a playwright’s story to the best of our ability, and sometimes that includes expressions of the less noble of humanity’s attributes, including our capacity for physical brutality to members of our own species which surpasses that of other animals. To ignore those aspects is to be dishonest, and ultimately does a disservice to the very art we serve.
Staged violence serves two purposes. It progresses the story and it stirs the emotions of the audience. The former is our obligation, but the latter can be crucial to the ultimate purpose of art, namely to move the audience to experience, albeit vicariously, something outside of daily life. That vicarious experience may be revulsion or exhilaration, but it is the catalyst that can push past the intellectual barrier the audience brings in with them when they see a show. They know they are going to be challenged, and they willingly leave themselves open to our efforts, with the understanding that we have a very good reason to play with their emotions. For us to ignore our part of the bargain insults them.
Theatre and Violence in the Modern Age
Having those high-minded ideals doesn’t ignore the fact that violence is also entertainment. There is a thrill there that has always excited audiences. Stories told around prehistoric campfires begot tribal heroic legends, begot staged revenge tragedies, begot action/adventure films, begot video games – all pandering to the same desire. They may have an exalted motive or merely look for approval or wealth, but those storytellers would have no audience if it weren’t for a deep need that brings listeners around the fire. If we honor tribal legends and Shakespeare for their stories of violence and vengeance, we cannot suddenly decide that video games are corrupting merely because they pander to the same hunger in a new form. Either the lineage ennobles all of them, or the danger shadows them all.
That the majority of those who approach and stay for the bloody bits are male is probably no accident. In almost all societies, males from a very early age are taught that the world is a dangerous place and that their measure of worthiness will be in how they confront those dangers. In play, those activities that allow them to “win” against superior odds are the most popular. In entertainment, violent battles against overwhelmingly powerful opponents are not only invigorating but also comforting, creating an inner image of being somehow powerful as well. In a way it is much like the visualization techniques used by Olympic athletes. By seeing yourself win, it is possible to practice winning. By seeing heroes bravely engage in battle, it is possible to counteract the more natural impulse to flee when faced with danger. It is interesting that modern-day soldiers before going into battle receive solace and courage by watching war movies and playing first-person shooter video games, putting themselves in the roles of the victors and by extension being victorious.
Certainly there are and have been a great many female warriors, just as fearsome in battle as their male counterparts. Certainly the number of superb female athletes who excel in every field of athletic competition grows each year. But it still remains true that violence for its own sake seems to have a greater appeal to the male portion of the population, and especially young males.
It is no secret that military leaders need to have their recruits be as young as possible. They understand that not only can young soldiers’ bodies be trained to be at their peak of physical condition, but that their minds are more easily molded by training to accept orders unquestioningly. After a certain age, critical judgment is much harder to break down. Older recruits are more likely to consider the consequences of actions when deciding what actions should be performed. Twenty-six years of age is usually the dividing line. It is also the minimum age that rental car companies will allow someone to rent a car. Younger drivers simply engage in too much reckless behavior for its own sake. We cannot praise science for showing us the wisdom of waiting until twenty-six to rent a car, and at the same time ignore that same science when handing eighteen-year-olds a rifle.
Cultural conditioning might explain part of the affinity, but not all. The human brain begins its development before birth, but all parts of the brain do not finish growing at the same time. The very last part to make all of the electrical connections necessary for smooth functioning is the very one responsible for critical judgment. When does that happen? At about the age of twenty-six. Wisdom in the young is not only rare, it might be physically difficult.
It may also be that human males are pre-wired to enjoy seeing and committing violence. It is already well known that in males, testosterone levels spike dramatically when they are engaged in violent physical activity, be it war or confrontational sports such as football or soccer. It has also been demonstrated that even the male spectators of these events experience the same testosterone spike. Now it makes sense that the warriors or athletes can use the extra testosterone, since the hormone increases aggression as well as lessens fatigue, builds muscle mass, and helps in recovery from injury. But then why should the viewers need the extra push?
A long-term study measured the testosterone levels of soccer fans in Italy as they entered and then exited soccer stadiums on game day. As expected, testosterone levels were dramatically higher after the game, but mainly for the fans of the winning team. Fans of the losing team not only had testosterone levels lower than the others, but unexpectedly lower than their own pre-game levels. Being associated with the losers literally took the fight out of them, or at least reduced their ability to fight.
In a larger tribal setting, we can see how this can translate into a useful survival strategy. Remember that in pre-”total-war” societies, only a comparatively few warriors fought while the rest of the tribe observed. As soon as one tribe began to show dominance in battle, the winning observers got pumped-up and were more likely to join the warriors, whereas the observers on the losing side were more likely to retreat and concede a loss. Were it not for this outcome-driven hormonal shift, a conflict might degenerate into a total donnybrook, to the detriment and perhaps annihilation of both tribes.
Sports fanatics identify completely with “their” team, and so naturally feel this effect far more than the casual sports fan. And we see that, in the US especially, it is the “winning” fans who are the ones who vandalize local cars and businesses surrounding the stadium, not the losers. Likewise, viewing an adventure movie or playing a video game invites the audience or participants to identify intensely with the protagonist, indeed even to become the protagonist. It would not surprise me if a future study shows the same spike in testosterone levels, with the concomitant rise in both elation and aggression. Small wonder why “chick flicks” are not popular with male viewers, as crying and empathy with loss are depressing in a physical sense and leads to a self-identification with weakness. Interestingly, the exceptions are those viewers who either consciously reject the stereotype or who already feel weakened or marginalized by the prevailing male profile.
In describing the above I am not implying that violence is good nor bad, just that it exists. I myself believe that it is impossible to ignore, and can even be helpful in telling a story. We should not shy away from using images of violence so long as we are being honest with ourselves as to why we are doing so, and are willing to constantly reevaluate our use of it in every project we work on. When that violence serves neither the art nor the community, it should be deleted.
I am not ever going to ask that someone shortchange their own artistic impulse for the sake of trying to be non-controversial, and I would never advocate any type of censorship. Artists should be absolutely free to do anything they want to in the name of art. But they should also be willing to support the right of the audience to perform its function and duty – to either praise or denounce those works which they have witnessed. Instead, many artists become defensive and blame the audience for not “understanding” their work.
[Now is when I start my rant.] Artists today are too afraid of criticism (“I never read reviews”, is the common refrain of the insecure), but criticism is merely market research. It makes us better performers, not worse. So just suck it up, read the reviews, let people picket your theatre, allow all the voices to be heard, take it all in and learn from it. If they find your “vision” offensive, that just means that the audience responded viscerally to your product. Isn’t that what you wanted? And if they call for others to boycott your product, accept that as another honest response.
But a special word to the apologists of violence and crudity. Another common saying among those in the biz is that “art elevates us”, followed closely by “art cannot hurt people”. Well, come on now; you can’t have it both ways. If it is true that people respond to what they see, that experiencing a work of art can effect a profound change deep in someone’s psyche, then it is only wishful thinking to believe that that change is either only for good or is effect-neutral. If we truly believe that art can change us for the better — that compassion onstage breeds compassion in the audience, that forgiveness portrayed leads us to forgiveness — then it follows just as surely that violence may breed violence, and crudity may breed crudity. To deny that is not reasoned analysis; it is wishful thinking.
“But violence has been in entertainment forever”, and the more specific “Shakespeare’s plays are full of violence”. Yes, of course, all of that is true. But remember that live theatre was and is mainly an adult form of communal entertainment, rare and expensive enough so that even in a densely populated capital city such as London very few people would see more than two or three shows a year. No film, no television, no radio, no internet – just a couple of live shows. The memory of the show would live long after the event, and would be discussed among friends in great detail. Even as late as the 1950’s, few people would see more than one movie per month, the vast majority of the population seeing only a handful in a decade, and that was the extent of entertainment to which they would be exposed. In what is almost incomprehensible to us now, most of whatever people learned about life, they did so by living.
Compare that with the incredible volume of images that floods in through the television screen every day. The average American has seen more depictions of violence by the time he is four years old than his counterpart fifty years ago would have seen in his entire life. By 1993, researchers estimated that the average American child, by the end of elementary school, had already witnessed more than 8,000 murders and over 100,000 other acts of violence on television alone. By age eighteen, the totals rose to roughly 40,000 murders and 200,000 violent acts. Those figures, astonishing as they are, were drawn only from broadcast and cable television of the early 1990s. With the arrival of streaming services, social media, online gaming, and round-the-clock video access, children today are exposed to violent imagery at levels that are incalculably higher — and immeasurably harder to track. Violence is being drummed in at a rate never imagined before – to a very passive and receptive audience. Our view of reality is also being affected by what view. Mass and micro media tell us that the world is a far more frightening place than it really is, and that perception colors our response either in violence or in paranoia.
Stage Combat, Education, and Responsibility
“Everyone I know has seen violence since we were kids, and we are not mass murderers”. True enough, but that isn’t to say that we aren’t becoming a more violent society as a whole. Especially in the United States we’ve gotten sucked-in to the idea that complex problems can be solved with the simple expedient of resorting to violence (in thirty minutes for a comedy, one hour for a drama, an hour and a half if we have to blow things up). We’ve become desensitized to its consequences, and if not violent ourselves we give a tacit approval to those who use it to solve their problems. If not violent ourselves, we allow our government to resolve issues by proxy, using violence instead of negotiation. If not violent ourselves, violence is viewed as strong, negotiation as weak, taking us right back to our early insecurity of not being real men unless we can battle toe-to-toe against whatever we fear.
We seem to have the capacity to use our reason so as not to choose violence as our first response to a threat, and yet we also tacitly allow it under an ever expanding set of circumstances. Juries consider an increasingly broader range of violent actions as being justified. We no longer look down on people who act brutish, we allow youths to take on the attributes of bullies in speech, dress and manner. We are not shocked by people cutting us off on the freeway, flipping us the finger while talking on a cell phone. We are maddened, yes, but not shocked. And we demand no change. We have even accepted abusive speech and violent action and call it freedom.
“Violence in not harmful when the message of the work is anti-violence”. Sorry. I would love that to be true, but studies have shown that children are immediately more predisposed to use physical force when confronted with conflict after they are exposed to any image of violence. That includes cartoon images, news images, and “educational” images. [Were the ancient Greeks right in thinking that violence on stage wasn’t necessary for the performance and probably harmful to society?] So direct is this correlation that I strongly urge educators not to teach stage combat to children at anything below the high school level. The younger children simply do not have the maturity skills necessary to dispassionately judge the effects of even these pretend actions. If needed for a specific show, teach how to do the simulation to just the child involved. But stage combat workshops for young actors, although profitable, do more harm than good in the development of acting skills. Stage combat for children is not education, it is only monkey skills without wisdom. It teaches them to copy gestures of violence without yet knowing why those gestures exist, when they are justified, or how they must be contained. That is not discipline. That is mimicry disguised as mastery.
So where does that leave us? I’ve spent three quarters of my life teaching people how to sell violence to an audience, so I’m not in a position to advocate that we remove all violent imagery from art, nor would I want to. But at the very least I want us not to be ignorant nor self-delusional about what it is we do. I would like for us to talk openly about the necessity of using violence to promote our art, and maybe find a way to pull back from levels with which we have become all too comfortable.
Lives are short; careers shorter still. But the life of theatre, if we so choose to honor it, stretches back five thousand years — perhaps farther still, to the first tellers of tales gathered around the fire. To the very dawn of humanity.
Carpenters arrive at a worksite with all of the tools they might need for the job. Hammer, saw, level, tape measure, plane – they are expert in their uses and apply each as each specific task requires. Days may go by without using a crowbar, but they feel no loss in not displaying it. The aim is not to demonstrate the full range of their abilities, but to build well.
In martial arts it is necessary to engage in combat with sudden and total effort. Sometimes, to do so, it is necessary to adopt a kind of fury. But this fury must be one that springs not from the heart, but rather from a persona we use in order to succeed in that moment. We know that it is not real, but the damage that it can cause is. When the threat is gone the persona, the fury, is put away. It is called the mask of the tiger, and it has only limited use.
So it should be for us. We are not warriors, and neither should we be panders. We are, first and last, storytellers. Sometimes we play the lover, sometimes the judge. Sometimes we don the kingly crown, sometimes the jester’s cap, and on rare occasion the mask of the tiger. As with any tool in our toolbox, we must use it well and wisely.