RE: The Scourge of Relatability
In Rebecca Mead’s recent article for the New Yorker, she argues that rejecting an artistic work for not being ‘relatable’ is a self-involved failure of critical thought. Here is my response.
Gotta say I disagree pretty strongly with this article — not to mention how it’s presented: Mead spends a great deal of time (more than half the piece) arguing that ‘relatability’ is a new, low-brow concept, only to then concede that the rose has indeed had many other names. While she ultimately thinks these other names don’t really entail the same problems as ‘relatability’ (I disagree), let’s explore her two main points without getting stuck in semantics: she thinks 1) that artists have no duty to cater to their audiences, while 2) audiences have a duty to think critically about artists’ work.
Of course, audiences shouldn’t just turn their brains off; but likewise, artists who don’t think about their audiences are doing a disservice to the craft. Art is inherently a form of communication, and if the symbols we artists use are too obtuse to be understood or appreciated we have only ourselves to blame.
Mead presents a false dichotomy, arguing that a work cannot be “accommodating or reflective of the experience of the reader or viewer” without causing “the reader or viewer” to remain “passive in the face of the book or movie or play.” But a work can be accommodating to its audience without preventing the audience from being an active participant. In fact, I would argue that considering your audience’s circumstances can help to create an experience more likely to engage them in active participation, just as a good conversation is sparked by people who think about the effects of their words before they speak.
Theatre directors have a unique obligation and opportunity to consider their audience. Theatre as a medium is necessarily temporal and regional; plays occur in a time and a place. The revival of Assassins on Broadway was delayed after 9/11 because of a fear that audiences would find the subject matter too relatable (a character in the show talks of hijacking a plane and crashing it into the White House). Did this decision lack artistic integrity? Or did it acknowledge that theatre does not exist in a vacuum and considering your audience is a necessary part of the artistic process? I would argue the latter.
The Atlantic recently posited that, “at their cores, psychology, cognitive science, and theater are all trying to do the same thing, which is understand why people do the things they do, our range of behavior, and where it comes from.” For an audience to go on this journey with the actors, they must feel connected to the characters and the story. And the director/playwright can make this connection easier or harder.
Imagine going to a public lecture by Neil deGrasse Tyson and having him talk like everyone in the audience is a PhD in physics. This is what it can be like to see a Shakespearean show sometimes. However, there is a way to direct a Shakespearean show so that audiences feel connected to the story and the characters, just as Tyson can and does talk about astrophysics such that audiences can relate.
So I challenge theatre professionals to approach their work with some empathy for their audiences. Not pity. Not condescension. But empathy. Challenge them and respect them. Figure out how to push their buttons and pull at their heartstrings. Keep up some mystery but not so much that your audience tunes you out. Ignoring whether your audience can relate to your story and your characters is an arrogant and ultimately futile approach to what could otherwise be a mutually beneficial artistic journey.
