This is the kind of thing I’m afraid I’ll accidentally do. Or else it’s the kind of thing I’ve secretly always wanted to do. I’m actually not so sure. From The New York Times‘ ArtsBeat:

A spokesman for the Broadway production of Neil LaBute’s “reasons to be pretty” said Sunday that the show’s producers had beefed up the security detail at the Lyceum Theater following an incident at the Saturday evening performance. During the first act, the character played by Marin Ireland (“Blasted”) lights into her ex-boyfriend, played by Thomas Sadoski (“Becky Shaw”), with a litany of all the things she believes are wrong with him. A male audience member must have felt something a bit too personal in the verbal assault because he stood, called her a bitch twice, said a few other things that cannot be printed, and stormed out of the theater. For those in attendance: No, it was not part of the show.

I like this. I know that seems a little bizarre, but I can’t help it. The idea of someone connecting with a performance on so profound a level, so much so that this audience member was moved to screaming at the actor and storming out of the theater, is just cool. (Of course, I’m assuming that this is the case, and that he’s not Marin Ireland’s ex-boyfriend or mortal enemy or whatever, and was not purposely sabotaging the production. In that case, ahem, never mind.)

And speaking of rude interruptions, here’s a fun fact: theater wasn’t always the sit-and-watch-quietly experience as it is now. For as long as theater has existed, up until about 100ish years ago when such distinctions as “highbrow art” and “lowbrow art” emerged, audiences typically stood together like packed cattle in front of the stage. They stomped their feet, jeered at characters they didn’t like, hollered for actors to repeat scenes they loved, and so on. The closest I’ve had to that experience has been Friday night poetry slams at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. And I want more of that interactivity, both the cheers and the jeers. I’ll take them both. I feel more connected to the performers, like I’m a part of the performance. And plus, it’s just so much fun. So maybe that’s why we’re tempted with wildly inappropriate urges to shout something in a silent, packed house…or is that just me? [ArtsBeat]