![Producers of Slave Play are so concerned about the audience's reaction that they have provided theatregoers with a detailed online 'self-care' manual](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/columnists/2024/07/02/TELEMMGLPICT000384180930_17199447033330_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bq63fgl9gZhPGPt0ECSmUOuUivfnJFK9oU4a4CkklTz7w.jpeg?imwidth=680)
![Producers of Slave Play are so concerned about the audience's reaction that they have provided theatregoers with a detailed online 'self-care' manual](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/columnists/2024/07/02/TELEMMGLPICT000384180930_17199447033330_trans_NvBQzQNjv4Bq63fgl9gZhPGPt0ECSmUOuUivfnJFK9oU4a4CkklTz7w.jpeg?imwidth=680)
You’d think the title would be a bit of a pointer; that if you’ve bought tickets to a production called Slave Play – which tells the story of three interracial couples forced to engage in role play on a fictitious slave plantation as part of their relationship counselling – you’re probably not in for “the ultimate feel-good show.” Yet producers of the new West End play – written by Jeremy O. Harris and starring Kit Harington and Olivia Washington – are so concerned about the audience’s reaction that they have taken it upon themselves to provide theatregoers with a detailed online “self-care” manual.
Because they “recognise that this play can cause distress or trigger challenging emotions”, they would like, first and foremost, to teach audience members to “breathe.” And they don’t just mean in and out, repeating as often as needed – no. This is about breathing in such a way as to “induce a feeling of calm.” It’s about “breathing in for 4-6 seconds” then “holding your breath for 4-6 seconds”, and so it goes on.
If you’re still distressed, you might want to “do a body scan,” they then suggest, “where you notice how parts of your body feel in the moment”. Alternatively, you could “go for a walk” and “connect with nature” or “take a shower, bath or wash your hands”. Although presumably these last two recommendations are for after the show. We wouldn’t want there to be an alarming exodus of intense self-carers mid-performance.
The first time I read through this shockingly infantilising manual, I laughed. The second time, I got angry (and was forced to do the breathing techniques). Because this is not about soothing fragile theatregoers, but the producers virtue signalling. They need you to understand that however touched and upset you are by the material – they are ten-fold.
We are living at a time when the quiet acknowledgement of tragedy and injustice is worth nothing; when any empathy that is not expressed in the appropriate flamboyant way – say, on social media – is worth nothing.
We need to hear your outrage, see your distress up close, if we’re to believe that you really care. Just as public figures are cancelled if they don’t put on a cabaret of upset and fury on various issues, private figures are made to feel cold and unfeeling if they are not loudly hyperventilating into a brown paper bag.
The great shame is that all this nonsense only distracts from a production that is, by all accounts, brilliant. When Slave Play premiered off-Broadway in 2018, it scored a record-breaking 12 Tony nominations, and the West End production has already garnered rave reviews, with Olivia Washington singled out as “superb” and a “true star”. Rather than tell audiences how to feel, why not let them absorb the play’s complexities and decide for themselves?
Breathing tips for audiences is yet more cynical virtue signalling from theatres
Instead of exhibiting exciting new art, producers are surrendering to a culture of enforced distress