One way to think of theatre is as a living bridge between the past and the present: It is by definition always happening right now, but it has been rehearsed, constructed, premeditated, with words and actions that were scripted anywhere from weeks to centuries before the moment of its performance. We see what’s unfolding in front of us but can always sense what’s behind (and before) it.
What does theatre have to say to the future? There is as yet no crystal ball available in any medium but our imagination, of course. But to the extent that a staged reality can awaken new possibilities for living and feeling, and forge fresh relationships among its makers and its viewers, theatre can not only show us a glimpse of our future; it can, in a real sense, help us to build it.
Theatre doesn’t always live up to that forward-looking potential, either in its content or in the conditions of its creation. It’s not for lack of talent or vision: There are countless thoughtful, thrillingly talented artists, craftspeople and leaders working in and around this industry and art form, whose path-breaking work I see evidence of every day. But like every other human endeavor, especially those that exist at any scale within a larger economy, theatre faces both material obstacles and existential threats to its flourishing. The past four years of pandemic and protest have challenged the theatre like few other periods in its history.
But in crisis there is also opportunity, and it is partly in that spirit that we are proud to launch our Theatre Futures project in this issue. With the support of the Ford Foundation, we’ve asked 16 leading thinkers to give us their “if I ran the theatre” speeches, with results as provocative and mind-opening as we might have hoped. The first four Futures essays appear in this issue, and the rest will roll out online throughout the rest of 2024. It is our hope that these writings will be a sort of playbook of best practices for building and sustaining a better theatre ecology in and for a changed and changing world.
The outside world isn’t really outside, after all. As we watch a horrifying war on Gaza in which we Americans are intimately complicit, as we sweat rising authoritarianism worldwide amid a fraught U.S. election year, as we witness the cumulative devastations of climate change—we are mistaken if we think that the theatre doors protect or secure us from these compounding crises. Indeed to continue to gather to make meaning in spite of the world’s brutalities is not to acquiesce to them but to face them down. As the Palestinian writer Maya Nazzal writes in her reflection on Golden Threads Productions’ staging of Returning to Haifa, in this issue, “Resistance is beautiful. No matter where Palestinians end up on the globe, whatever field we are in, our work, our survival, and our joy are a form of resistance in themselves.”
This issue doesn’t only look ahead: This year is the 40th anniversary of American Theatre. Looking back over four decades of the magazine, it is neither our own longevity, nor the changes in our design and emphasis, that are most impressive or noteworthy. No, what stands out are the stubborn resilience and endless variety of the art form we’ve been privileged to cover. Theatre, that Fabulous Invalid, has weathered hard years before. As we look around and ahead at more hard years, we can take comfort and inspiration from the words of Brecht: “In the dark times, will there also be singing? Yes, there will also be singing about the dark times.”
Rob Weinert-Kendt is editor-in-chief of American Theatre.
