"I am Batman"

Sadly no, it's not casting news. Christian Bale won't be wet-wiping down his rubber suit and handing it to yours truly. Rather today's musings centre on audience participation, and more specifically unsolicited audience participation.
I'm not talking about squeals of excitement or gasps of surprise (which we nightly enjoy as The Mousetrap plot twists about like a dad at a disco) I'm thinking of the more loquacious outbursts...

On the lower end of the scale, during moments of revelation we've recently had a few "Oh my God"s spill forth from shocked patrons, always followed by laughter at the unconscious emission. That's fine and dandy for us up on the stage, it means the fish is not only on the hook but it's leaping aboard, filleting itself and turning on the hob. We only have to hold the moment while the audience settles again and resume where we left off.

In the middle of the scale we have comments that relate to the action but aren't necessarily useful to the actor. For example in Act II I have a moment where I draw upon all my training and powers to delicately craft a series of actions that leads the audience to suspect a murder has been committed, the summit of which is a slow turn and a facial expression cross fade from impatience to fear (don't try that at home- it's for professionals only) followed by two beats of silence and a run and shout. A couple of weeks ago during a Tuesday matinee as I was knee deep in my art, having already navigated the facial expression cross fade without injury and exactly half way through my two beat silence, there came a voice from the stalls, that was somehow both fragile and mighty, and spoken with the full certainty that 70+ years on this planet brings, confidently promulgating with a slight northern twang "HE'S A GONER." In actuality he wasn't a goner and I did allow myself a slight self satisfied twinkle at having duped such a confident disciple of the detective arts but to be honest it was a contribution I could have done without.

The upper echelons of the scale are reserved for the most bizarre offerings. Among many contenders one example stands out. A few years ago I was playing in NJ Crisps "Dangerous Obsession" at the Wolverhampton Grand, for anyone who doesn't know it it's a beautifully crafted thriller for three actors with the most precise of scripts- not a word is wasted as it builds to one of the most exciting conclusions of any play I've worked on before or since. If you have plans to see it in the near future you may wish to skip the next few lines... After an hour and a half of steadily building tension my character is held at gunpoint for past crimes, he begs for his life but to no avail because, as he attempts to crawl away behind the sofa the gunman steadily follows and fires three times, his wife screams and sits in paralysed shock. Silence. Gun smoke wafts. More silence. After a few seconds the shot man appears disheveled and shocked over the back of the sofa- the bullets were blanks. It's heart stopping stuff and a moment that is a pay-off for a relentless previous half an hour of taut drama. So you can imagine our delight when in the silence the company briefly gain two additional players. Both newcomers had midland accents and were clearly elderly and compensating for the others hearing difficulties. The updated script went something like this...

Mark (more sobs than words) ...no...no...oh Jesus...
John fires, once, twice and then again, three deadly explosions. Sally emits a sound, a terrible prolonged moan. Silence.
Old man (to old woman) Are you alright?
Old woman Yes I'm quite enjoying it actually
What time is it?
Old man Nearly twenty to five
Old woman Oh.

It was quite a moment. Like pissing onto a low voltage electric fence one didn't know whether to laugh or cry. As I was concealed behind the sofa I had the option of both, which I took. How my two esteemed colleagues coped is a matter of both mystery and admiration. We later laughed how we were damned with the faint praise of "quite enjoying it"

Rather like the Spinal Tap amps go up to 11, an extra special place on the scale must be saved for truly surreal bestowals. And so we come to the title of this item...

Robin Hood. Greenwich Theatre. 2002.
A stage in eerie darkness at the top of Act 1. A church bell tolls. Dry ice. Isolated shafts of light pick out 6 shadowy hooded figures.
Figure 1: Two of the clock, the owl cries.
Small boy at back of auditorium: I am Batman
Figure 2: (suppressing laughter) Three of the clock, the forest stirs
Small boy at back of auditorium: (insistently) I AM Batman
Figure 3: (barely coherent with giggles) Four of the clock, wild things wake
Small boy at back of auditorium: (now quite cross) I AM BATMAN
Mother of small boy at back of auditorium: No you're not dear.

Quite what prompted Bruce Wayne to reveal his identity at that moment will remain a puzzle but needless to say the other 'hours of the clock' went for a bit a burton that day.