To walk out of a public performance before the end – be it the theatre, a concert or a lecture – is not the done thing. It’s considered an antisocial act that disrupts the performance and thus other people’s pleasure. To walk out provokes tuts of disapproval and scowls of indignation. And yet while it’s something we all disapprove of (at least in theory) it’s also something we all secretly long to do.
Who hasn’t sat and squirmed in their seat at some tedious piece of theatre and wondered: how much more of this must I suffer? And who hasn’t been subjected to one of those long, sycophantic interviews with some self-adoring author flogging their latest book and not prayed for the courage to make a run for it?
It seems you can walk out on a marriage, but not your child’s school play. But why not?
The other night I was at a public talk where a man with a background in British cinema was discussing his life and career. (I’d only gone because my friend was interviewing him.) Within 20 minutes I was bored and so was the man next to me. We exchanged a roll of the eyes and checked our watches. And then I said in a whisper: ‘I’m making a run for it. Are you with me?’
I should point out that it was a small gathering of maybe 30 people, so there was no way we could sneak out without everyone seeing us. He nodded. ‘Right, on the count of three, let’s do it,’ I said. Then I got to my feet and grabbed my coat. He stirred as if getting up and then fell back to his seat. The pained expression on his face said: I want to, but I can’t! Like many English people he was too embarrassed to make that dash for freedom.
To anyone who has felt like that: I understand your predicament. I feel your pain – or at least I used to. I can’t remember the exact moment I went from struggling audience member to assertive audience walker, but I decided that life is too short to sit and suffer. So I began to walk.
I should also say that while some may walk out on principle – a play that they find morally objectionable or a film that’s offensive – I walk for one reason alone: sheer boredom. I don’t expect entertainment from every event I attend, but I do expect not to be bored. There’s the assumption that audiences – especially theatre audiences – should be appreciative of whatever they are given. If you’re bored, it’s your fault because you’re some kind of philistine or suffering from a short attention span.
I’m here to tell you it’s OK to walk – whatever the occasion. I have walked out of dull funerals and boring films. I once walked out of a dinner party. (The food was atrocious and so was the company.) I recently walked out on a wedding speech by the bride’s father that was so boring, I thought that the bride might walk out with me.
I have walked out of that one event that no one ever walks out of – your child’s performance in their school play. When I tell other parents about the time, many years ago, when I walked out of my son’s nativity, they are shocked. It seems you can walk out on a marriage, but not a school play. But why not? Face it, if your kid doesn’t have a lead role or a couple of lines of dialogue, why should you sit there and watch other people’s children ham it up? No thanks.
I admit that there are times when perhaps I left too soon. In the 1970s I walked out of a gig featuring the unknown Clash and the Sex Pistols at the 100 Club. (This was back in the early days of punk.) ‘These losers are going nowhere,’ I said to my girlfriend. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ She stayed. I left. We broke up.
I would have thought that since we live in an age of declining attention spans, more people would be walking out of things. What keeps them sitting in their place and suffering? Usually it’s the fear of disapproval – the embarrassment that comes from everyone looking at you and judging you for causing a disruption. So you stay and suffer.
The reality is that your exit is only noticed by those nearest to you. No, the actors on the stage will not stop in mid-flow and ask: where in the hell do you think you’re going? You will not be denounced by the self-important author being interviewed. Whatever the disruption, it only lasts at worst 60 seconds. Think about it: 60 seconds of embarrassment vs 60 minutes of boredom.
There used to be a BT advert with Bob Hoskins with the tagline ‘It’s good to talk.’ I say: it’s good to walk. It’s leaving a review with your feet. And it’s one of the most freeing things in life. It’s a bit like stripping off at a nudist camp – awkward at first, but very liberating once you do it.
I used to feel guilty when I walked. I would creep out, muttering apologies and hanging my head in shame. Now I strut my stuff with a smile on my face, because I hear the voice of Martin Luther King Jnr crying: ‘Free at last! Thank God I’m free at last.’ Dare to dash, and you will be free too.
Comments