When Theatre Venues Become a Backdrop for Protest
Yesterday during the curtain call of Il trovatore at the Royal Opera House, a cast member held a Palestinian flag, presumably in protest of the ongoing genocide in Gaza. According the the BBC’s report on the incident, the venue said in a statement that the protest “was not approved by the Royal Ballet and Opera and is not in line with our commitment to political impartiality.”
On reading the news, I was reminded of when a group of Just Stop Oil (JSO) protesters mounted the stage at Les Miserables in 2023. I remember the outrage at protesters having the audacity to cause the cancelation of a West End performance. And then, like now, I have some thoughts about the narrative pushed around these two examples of direct action.
Obviously, the circumstances of these two events are very different. The former was conducted by a cast member during the bows. The performance was not affected, and no one was onstage that wasn’t authorised to be there. And I’ve seen similar actions taken during curtain calls. When I saw After the Act at The Royal Court, one of the actors brought on a kufiyah and wore it on their shoulders during the bows. The JSO protest, on the other hand, involved a stage invasion by members of the public. The ability for that to happen puts the cast, crew and even audience at great risk. Someone with violent intention could do great physical and psychological harm from a theatre stage.
But the vitriol against JSO in particular gave me the ick.
People within the industry were incandescent with rage. It was disgusting that people would storm the stage of such a beloved show. It was stupid, hooligan behaviour.
And I couldn’t help but think, “would you be saying this about protesters occupying a sports pitch, or the house of commons?” Don’t get me wrong, the protesters shouldn’t have got on stage. That was a security risk the theatre wasn’t prepared for. I also think it sucks for that audience. I know how expensive going to a West End Show can be, especially when you factor in travel, food and sometimes even accommodation. They do have a right to be angry about that. But that’s also true of any direct action. And it’s kind of the point.
When protestors occupy motorways, people miss events or flights. When workers strike, services are disrupted. The point is to disrupt. To be affronting. To make the cause impossible to ignore in that moment. And if you believe in direct action as an effective tool for social change, I’d argue it’s hypocritical to then turn around and say, “but not Les Mis! How dare they?!”
I think it’s easy to say we’re in support of protest when it doesn’t inconvenience us or make us uncomfortable. Protesters storming a football pitch would be easy for me to get behind (the cause notwithstanding) because I could not care less about the beautiful game. But when it’s something that we value that is being ‘attacked’, something we feel is above the petty ravages of politics, it’s difficult to put our bias aside.
I think there’s also a layer that applies to cultural works specifically. We saw similar reactions to JSO throwing soup over Van Gogh paintings and spraying powder paint on Stonehenge. It’s arresting to have art and culture used in this way. But it make a graphic point that’s fitting for JSO’s message. What good are these works of art and history if there’s no clean water to drink or air to breath? If they’re swallowed by our rising seas? It makes sense.
The response to Royal Opera House protest is a bit more nuanced. I haven’t seen much of a negative response from the public (at least so far) - I think it’s clear to most people that an active genocide is being carried out in Gaza. The venue’s statement is low-key giving “public relations department”, but that’s hardly surprising. And I do think it raises a broader question about the “political impartiality” of venues.
We’re living in a time of increasing polarisation and upheaval. Art can, and arguably should, be a vehicle for bridging divides, healing wounds and growing collective empathy. Often the most powerful pieces of theatre are those that speak to the personal or collective needs of now. Artists know this. We know that our work doesn’t exist in a vacuum because our audience doesn’t exist in a vacuum. So I would argue that no venue can be truly politically impartial, because they have to make a choice about how their venue is going to speak to the issues their audiences face. There’s a reason an artistic director choses to program King Lear over the Merry Wives of Windsor; unconsciously or not, politics plays a role in that decision.
You don’t have to agree with the actions taken by any group. You can believe that targeting theatres for protest action is ineffective or counterproductive. All I ask is that our views aren’t distorted by sentimentality.