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Theatre has star role in a vibrant society
Glenda Jackson believes theatre deserves a bigger subsidy, reflecting the benefits it brings the nation
IN concert with many others, I have been making the case for a secure subsidy to British theatre for the whole of my adult life. Clearly, my arguments have proved remarkably unsuccessful.
Our government in 2000-1 made a subsidy to the theatre of £120 million. Equity, the actors’ association, made the point that, from the government subsidy of some £120 million, the economy benefits by £2.6 billion annually. A comparatively small amount of national money produces enormous financial benefits for the country.
I am grateful for the fact that the theatre produces economic benefits, but it seems that a society that values its theatre and regards it as something for which there should be consistent support by the nation state is one that acknowledges that the spiritual health of the nation benefits from such subsidy.
The theatre is not merely entertainment or a place for spectator sport. People should not go to the theatre if their lives are ideally spent as couch potatoes. Theatre makes infinitely greater demands than that on those who participate and those who visit. Only the subsidised theatre can begin to explore such demands if the overwhelming and crushing burden of having to make a profit at the end of every week is lifted from it.
I am not arguing for any kind of feather-bedding. My argument has always been that, when the country is doing well, if we genuinely value our theatre, it should have a proper share of the national cake. If the economy is not doing very well, the theatre, along with other vital factors of a cultivated society, should consider cuts.
The central crucial argument for me is that theatre is as vital for our society as anything else that the state regards as a basic function it should provide for its citizens.
It has always been my somewhat idealistic belief that theatre at its best is a model for an ideal society. A large group of strangers sit there in the dark, and another group, who are strangers to them, come on into the light. When it is working well, an energy goes from the light into the dark, is reinforced and is sent back. On a really good night, a perfect circle is created. It is a unique and transforming experience.
As an actor, it lasted no longer than the walk from the stage to the dressing room. For an audience, it might last no longer than the walk from the seat to the exit. However, it is real, and it happens nowhere else.
There are other benefits, too. The government, to its credit, has supported, for example, programmes that invest in interesting young children in how the theatre can be part and parcel of their lives.
We have also seen, at the other end of the age scale, how drama can have a profound effect in respect of elderly people who suffer from Alzheimer’s and are losing their memory.
We know also of the immensely valuable work that drama can do in assisting people who are in prison. There is undoubtedly an improvement and a reduction in recidivism when people in prison are engaged in such programmes.
We have seen the enormous benefits of companies working with homeless people. They give back to people something that is easily lost but can be immensely difficult to restore: a sense of themselves as being human beings who, by virtue of their humanity, are valuable.
What are the questions that Shakespeare poses in a variety of guises in pretty much all his plays? All he ever asks is “Who are we?” and “Why are we?” and “What are we?” The pursuit of the questions and the possibility of answers are essential to our being human.
There is no better arena for examining and pursuing such quests than the theatre, which is why I hope the government will think about the minute amount of money required to maintain British theatre in its excellent state and to give it possibilities of expansion.
I understand that the amount is as minuscule as £3.5 million a year. That is surely a mere spit in the ocean.
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