The Civic Theatre
Civic Theatre Design. By Richard Leacroft. (Dobson. 10s. 6d.)
FRANK LLOYD Witicirr, in his eightieth year, has said of his pip- jected theatre at Hartford, Connecticut : " The building, itself 'in automatic machine rivalling in plasticity the cinema, will be a sanctuary for emotion and aspiration." These are grandiloquent words, but they offer a strictly contemporary definition of what tomorrow's theatre should be—a precisely geared piece of apparatus consecrated to the enactment of the most significant drama of all epochs and to the unfettered development of the dramatic impulse under modern conditions. If this definition is never lost sight of, gilt and cherubim may be applied to the fabric with impunity. That it will be lost sight of by the municipal sponsors and architects of our civic theatres, a rate for the erection of which may now be imposed, is Mr. Leacroft's fear ; his book, accordingly, is written for them and " not for Everyman." But all those who, like the author, have worked in the repertory theatre in this country, and the many others for whom the living theatre is something more than Kitsch adorned, will wish to dissociate themselves from the " general."
The civic theatre, more than any, should conform to that definition then. Above all, it should be a comely and well-shapen thing, free of Lloyd Wright's architectonic ulcer, the "anachronistic botch." It should be the one plac& in town where the taxpayer may become I emotionally and criticality articulate, directly or vicariously. But It must also be professional, eventually non-profit-making, but at least self-supporting as soon as possible, a centre for county drama schemes and a focal point for rural emulation. Theatrical history shows a progressive withdrawal of the audience from the players. Participants in events charged with ritual and noumenal significance have now become the observers, segregated in Stygian anonymity, of a brightly-lit peep-show. The structural instrument of this growing remoteness is the proscenium frame, and it is in order to break its tyranny (as Professor Nicoll called it) that the author makes his most forthright proposal—to remove the fume altogether. In its place will be the natural opening formed by auditorium walls and ceiling as they meet the stage. Modifications may then be made to reproduce broadly the staging conditions of a Greek, Elizabethan, Restoration, Georgian or modern play, with- out the scholastic adherence to contemporary practice allowed for in, for example, the Oxford University Drama Commission's L187,000 project.
This assumes a reasonably-sized basic opening, but Mr. Leacroft asks for intimacy anyway—an audience-maximum of 700 ; obviation of the " barren area of dead stage," of a permanent apron and the "distracting chasm of sunken orchestra pit" ; a small circle or rear wall of boxes connected to the stage by a descending progression of other boxes. None of Colley Cibber's " extraordinary and super- fluous space " that made the actors sound like " the gabbling of so many people in the lofty aisles in a cathedral." Thus may the actor- audience contact be helped (as it might also be if the players did not so often have to go to work via a back-alley, like conspirators to some malefaction). Any alderman knows that it takes twenty-five technicians to film a simple bilateral embrace, but rarely that the acting area of a stage should be a twenty-fifth part of the room available behind the tabs. Mr. Leacroft's strong plea for space is justified, therefore. But his whole book is realistic. He never forgets that the bogies of short funds and fire authorities are hanging about the site. Another book is now needed on a much more tricky matter—the civic audience. It must attempt to answer the riddle: What comes first, the theatre or the audience ? Kine ambling out of the surreptitious plush are no audience for the atomic stage. The receiver must once again take an active role in the performance, or his rates will have gone down
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