The question of allowing food into theatres

The crackle and crunch of fellow audience members refuelling during scenes of high emotional intensity is a well-known gripe of theatregoers everywhere. Perhaps rightly so: we’ve all been there, skin itching, eyes twitching and prominent facial veins vacillating with irritation as our neighbour appears driven to gain purchase of the last minstrel in the packet. Earlier this year, Imelda Staunton made the case that all food should be banned from theatres, despairing that she simply couldn’t understand “why people cannot just engage in one thing”. This proposition has garnered support from a wide variety of theatrical figures such as producer Richard Jordan who claimed that eating during the performance of Doctor Faustus made for “the worst theatre visit ever”.

However, as annoying as we find the indulgences of our neighbours, are we all so virtuous as to be unable to recall instances of painstaking missions into obstructively packaged boxes of Maltesers purchased in the interval, attempting to make the minimum amount of noise, but still unable to resist the sweet allure of entertaining multiple senses at once? Most would be hard pressed to profess never to have indulged in a mid-performance snack. Such a practice is customary; archaeological discoveries from Shakespeare’s Globe suggest that punters enjoyed snacks such as nuts and pies mid-production, and many theatres make a thriving trade on edible goods.

Are we all so virtuous as to be unable to recall instances of painstaking missions into obstructively packaged boxes of Maltesers?

When questioned on the evidently established nature of food-based accompaniment, the anti-food lobby, largely comprised of the theatrical elite, claim that the hessian bags dipped into by Shakespeare’s contemporary audience probably made substantially less noise than their plastic counterparts. Such a contention is hard to swallow and given how vocal the audiences in Shakespeare’s time are believed to have been, it is unlikely that modern audiences cause anywhere near the disruption that the hooting, braying, tomato pelting mass of a 16^th century audience.

Is then, there a slightly darker agenda at play? Is it possibly snobbery manifesting itself in the typical form of demanding a higher level of self-restraint, congratulating those that deliver and vilifying those that don’t? Those such as Kit Harrington, of Game of Thrones fame, would argue so, going so far as to contend that banning all foods from theatres would be most likely to discourage millennials, as such stringent rules on conduct may lead younger people to believe the theatre is even more inaccessible than it already appears.

It is unlikely that modern audiences cause anywhere near the disruption that the hooting, braying, tomato pelting mass of a 16^th century audience

There is certainly truth to this, and it is often younger people who are scapegoated. For example, when mobile phones caused a furore in theatre circles, it was believed to be a youth culture import, despite the clear fact that almost everybody has a mobile phone. Whilst it is true that younger people are more likely to be naturally adept at such technology, this simply means they’re more capable of ensuring it is switched off or on silent.

Theatre, though having made great strides in recent decades, has a long way to go before it can be safely accused of not being relatively exclusive. In light of this, strict rules about eating may only serve as a backwards step, misdirecting attention from initiatives designed to encourage theatre traffic. Ultimately, and unfortunately for those unaccustomed to having to do so, we must rely on the discretion of other people, and providing we all obey the ancient maxim of do unto others as you would have done unto yourself can the outcome truly be that disastrous?