Theatre Space in Hong Kong: The Fourth Wall

The ‘fourth wall’ is associated with a certain kind of traditional (dramatic) theatre performed in a certain kind of traditional space, the proscenium stage. The idea is that the box-like stage area represents the world of the story, and the front facet of the box, which stretches across the proscenium arch, is an invisible wall which separates the audience from the world of the story. The fourth wall is both a barrier which maintains the consistency of the fictional world, and a window which allows the audience to gaze upon the private lives of the characters.

From the point of view of the performers and the audience, events take place as if nobody was watching and a wall was really there. No matter how stylized, presentational, and unrealistic the mode of performance (for example, even classical ballet and opera), this basic assumption structures the spatial relationship between audience, performers, and the theatre space. Fictional characters cannot ‘escape’ from the fictional world to join the world of the audience. Nor can audience stop or change the events of the story by invading the diegetic world. The closure of the diegetic world and its separation from reality is reinforced by the spatial/physical separation of the performers and audience.

This is not to say that the fourth wall is not broken by traditional/conventional dramatic theatre. The following events are all considered to be ‘breaking the fourth wall’: when actors/characters address the audience directly, when entrances or exits are made from parts of the theatre occupied by the audience, when characters step out of their roles to offer commentary on the story, when characters interact with extradiegetic elements such as music (singing and dancing in musical theatre or ballet).

Contemporary theatre (both dramatic and non-dramatic) tries to break down the fourth wall in much more fundamental, drastic ways. There’s no space here to comprehensively trace the developments throughout history, but I am interested in examining how Theatre Fanatico’s current project breaks the fourth wall.

Is there a fourth wall here?

It might be objected that the fourth wall concept does not really apply to all performance situations, especially those that do not narrate fictional worlds. For example, it does not appear to be a very relevant concept for looking at musical concerts. In response to that objection, I would point out that 1) non-dramatic/non-theatrical performances frequently take place in the same kinds of spaces as theatrical ones, and the physical structure of the space certainly has similar effects on those performances as well; 2) fourth wall-like dynamics can arise easily even in spaces which are not a proscenium-arch theatre. Thus, as HYF comments, the various ways in which the performance space and audience seating can be reconfigured in theatres such as the Drama Theatre at the HKAPA or the Studio Theatre at the HK Cultural Centre still does not result in a changed dynamic between audience and performers.

I think these are all good reasons to investigate 1) the effect which performance space can have upon audience-performer interaction, and 2) the nature of the fourth wall in performance. To clarify my usage of the term ‘fourth wall’, I am considering it in terms of the physical or psychological barrier which separates audience from any performance event, not merely as a narrative convention of dramatic performance.

A night at the theatre: observing the fourth wall

What is a typical local theatre performance venue like, and how does the audience interact with the performance in this space?

To start out with, we can take an example of a proscenium theatre space, the Grand Theatre at the HK Cultural Centre. This is a relatively large space which seats 1,734 in a three tier auditorium. The seats are fixed and the audience cannot move around once they come in and take their seats. Once the lights darken and the performance begins, their behavior as spectators is strictly controlled. They cannot talk, converse on cellphones, take pictures, eat or drink. They are confined to their seats and must remain silent for the most part. There are certain exceptions—at moments laughter or applause may also be appropriate.
A heavy red curtain marks the boundary between stage and auditorium. Even when it lifts, the invisible fourth wall is still there.

Being physically distant from the stage, the audience’s experience is mostly visual and aural. A system of microphones and amplifiers allows the audience to hear the performance from anywhere in the auditorium at a level of audio quality as good as if they were right next the stage. The only significant control the audience can exercise over their experience in this space is visual. They can choose where to sit in the auditorium. If they pay more money, they can sit in the seats towards the center and the front which offer a better view of the stage. If they sit very far away from the stage, they can use a pair of binoculars to get a closer view of performers’ movements and facial expressions.

We can’t say that the audience and performers are not interacting at all in this space. The performance is still an act of communication, although the interaction level appears to be limited. It can only be said that typically, audience-performer interaction is not the focus of the performance event in this kind of space.

This type of performance space appears to encourage restraint in the interactions between audience and performance. But it doesn’t mean that a higher level of interaction cannot take place in a relatively large, un-intimate standard theatre. For example, Theatre Ensemble’s performance of Villain Village (July 2007), a children’s play, at the relatively large HKAPA Lyric Theatre (seats 1,143) had a high level of interactivity. The performers paused every so often to ask the audience, made up mostly of young children, what the protagonist should do next. The distance of the seating from the stage and the large size of the auditorium did not prevent the children from responding freely by shouting out their responses. The point is not so much that the children behaved in a way which contrasted strikingly with the conventionally reserved audience behavior at theatre shows, but that they were involved actively in the performance event.

I should also point out that even in smaller spaces which permit different arrangements of seating, reconfiguration of the seating does not necessarily result in a greater sense that the audience is part of the performance, or that they can or should interact with the performance. The fourth wall barrier between audience and performance can continue to exist as strongly as it would even in a more traditional seating arrangement. For example, when FM Theatre presented World Attack (June 2007) at the HK Cultural Centre Studio Theatre, they rearranged the seating to allow the audience to sit on two sides of the stage area, opposite of each other. This production also attempted to break the fourth wall somewhat by having the performers simply sit together with the audience and watch the play whenever they weren’t performing. When it was time for an actor to participate in a scene, they would simply get up from their seat and enter the stage area. While this device served to emphasize the characters’/performers’ simultaneous roles as participants and observers of the action, it did not affect the audience’s role in the performance event significantly. The spatial arrangement primarily functioned here to give the audience a more three-dimensional perception of the stage and the performers, not to involve them more or to encourage them to interact with the performance.

Based on the performances that I have observed in Hong Kong, my conclusion is that although space can have a significant impact on the dynamics of a performance, ultimately it is the design of the performance itself which determines how much audience-performer interactivity is possible. Fourth walls can arise even in spatial setups which appear to be conducive to its breaking down; they can also be broken down in spaces where we might not normally expect it.
How does Crossing: Painting Silence break down the fourth wall?

Before I begin, I should qualify this section by acknowledging that I am not sure if this is a primary aim of the performance. Nevertheless, I think this is an interesting question to pursue because I have observed/I expect this performance will do so in a number of ways.

I would characterize this performance as being ‘open’ rather than ‘closed’, an event with value residing in its entire process rather than merely its product. First of all, HYF’s move to invite critics to observe the rehearsal process from beginning to end—and to participate in an ongoing dialogue about it—goes a long way towards opening up the space of this performance and breaking down the barrier between audience and performance event. Discussion took place at rehearsals and online at the blog, accessible to the public. A willingness to let us observe the formation of the piece, to engage with our questions and reactions, and to challenge us to participate in a written dialogue has made us feel like active participants in the performance event rather than detached and isolated observers. We may not be performers, but we still play an active role in the performance. I have come to the realization that one reason audience interaction is such a tricky thing to orchestrate is that it can require so much work on their part.
We can also look at the spaces which this performance has been inhabiting and in what ways the fourth wall no longer holds in them.

First there is the very interesting rehearsal space at Shu Ning Presentation Unit. It is a space in Kwun Tong Industrial Centre, its windows facing the Kwun Tong MTR station platform about 50 ft away. Not only are the rehearsals open to close observation from within (observers are encouraged to take off their shoes and move into the rehearsal area, watching from any angle they like), they are also subject to constant observation from people outside, waiting for the train on the MTR platform. The large windows lining one side of the rehearsal room turn it into a semipublic space. Although the window glass is a barrier physically separating inside from outside (blocking everything except sight), it also serves as a magnet which draws the gaze of people from both sides. Wherever there is an unobstructed window, people will always want to look in/look out. What is odd is that although the window glass and the spatial distance separate those outside viewers from physically participating in the performance event, they can still become actively engaged watchers from where they are. The sense is that the performance event does not remain confined only to those who physically share the space within the room, but extends outwards to include watchers on the train platform—this is especially apparent when something happens in rehearsal which immediately draws outside attention, and you can observe the figures on the platform turning towards the window, transfixed.

From within the rehearsal space, the intimacy of shared space and the element of free and open dialogue contributed to the prevention of any fourth wall-like barrier forming. I recall that towards the very beginning of rehearsals, we were invited to join the performers in warming up and executing some simple movement exercises. I often watch the rehearsals from the point of view of the performers and the (physical, imaginative) tasks they are grappling with, placing myself in their shoes and imagining what I would do if I had to face the same challenges. Thus, I tend not to see the performers as entering another, separate world whenever they launch into a scene, but as continuing to share the same, blank space that all of us can see.

Being able to talk at length with the performers and director also helps us to see this project less as the unified vision of one individual and more as the interaction of multiple voices. After the rehearsal of every exercise or scene, the director would call everyone together, including other project staff and observers, and invite us to share our reactions. And these reactions would inevitably feed back into the rehearsal. The line between observation and performance was very blurred. (This was particularly true when hearing the performers express their reactions to each other.)

Next there is the space which the performance will inhabit when open to the public Dec. 6-9. It will be performed in Shatin Town Hall, in the Cultural Activities Hall. Although the area of the hall is supposed to be 378 m², in fact the space which will be occupied by the performers and audience together will be much smaller, about 44 m² (where the stage usually is). Although originally the performance was envisioned to occupy the entire hall, with seating removed, it now turns out that the performance space will be not that much larger than the rehearsal space. My questions are: 1) How will the audience and the performers react to sharing this space? 2) What role will the audience take on in this event? And 3) What will the dynamics between audience and performers be in this event? (I anticipate they will be very different from most theatre events I have been able to see in Hong Kong up until now.) Unfortunately, the most interesting observations about this project probably cannot be made until after the completion of its public performance, and the full meaning of everything that has been done will not crystallize until long after it is over.

Yomei Shaw