Intimate Theatre: Practice Before Theory

Intimate Theatre: Practice Before Theory

Supriyo Samajdar

History tells us that the idea of intimate theatre associated with the “black box” space began around 1921, initiated by a Swiss theatre practitioner named Adolphe Appia. Later, in 1936–37, the French artist Antonin Artaud worked on his concept of the Theatre of Cruelty, which, in 1957–58, led the Polish theatre practitioner Jerzy Grotowski, through his idea of Towards a Poor Theatre, to open a new path of theatre practice across the world.

This essay looks at the movement of intimate theatre in West Bengal, India, and may be read as an account of Bibhaban’s nearly 30 years of practice with intimate theatre.

For several years now, many theatre groups have been organizing intimate theatre festivals. Many new groups are beginning their journeys with intimate productions, while several older groups are staging small (intimate) plays alongside their large (proscenium) productions. For nearly 26 years, Bibhaban has been practicing—perhaps it is more accurate to say, attempting to practice—intimate theatre. Along this journey, at different times, we have tried to learn the movement and the language of intimate theatre. We have felt that just as proscenium theatre has a specific mode of connection with the audience, intimate theatre also has its own. The same play cannot be performed in the same way on a proscenium stage and as an intimate production. Yet many theatre groups are compelled to do exactly this, because when invitations come for guest performances, organizers usually want one particular play. Except for government-supported festivals, external organizers often cannot pay much for intimate theatre performances. Moreover, the number of venues suitable for intimate theatre is limited. As a result, groups performing festivals often have to stage their plays on proscenium stages, and we too end up performing there—thinking of everything simply as a “space.”

We perform the play, without really considering how a spectator who has already seen the play in an intimate setting might perceive it when watching the same play on a proscenium stage—or even if we do consider it, we do not give it much importance, because money is involved. Fortunately, this number is not very large. Even now, some theatre groups continue to create their plays keeping the specific nature of the performance space in mind. At both central and state levels, financial support is being provided for intimate theatre, which establishes its importance within the present socio-economic structure.

There are varied responses to Bibhaban’s productions—many people appreciate them in different ways, and many dislike them as well. This is natural. Can art appeal to everyone in the same way or connect with everyone equally? Some people suggest how the play could be made better or more effective; others say that watching our plays is an experience. Apart from our work on Mukto Natya (“Open Theatre”) and the long “Journey,” most of our productions have a duration of roughly 20 to 50 minutes. Now the question arises: why create plays of 15 or 18 minutes, when an audience comes after a long day to watch theatre? Isn’t it necessary to entertain them for at least an hour—more would be even better? Why would they watch such short plays?

I feel that the length of a play—short or long—is not the main issue. If what needs to be said is said within the play, that is enough. Those who wish to watch such plays will come; those who want longer productions will go to see those. There is no contradiction here. But if we look beyond the question of duration and focus on the act of seeing itself, we may understand why a play is being made and what it wants to say. If we can grasp that, perhaps we will understand the language of intimate theatre in a different way.

It was in 1997—nearly 29 years ago—that we began our own journey with Mukto Natya, and for the last 24 years we have been continuing this “Journey” with our own approach. For us, this is a search for a relationship beyond that of audience and actor. In this country, although directors like Bir Sen, Panu Pal, and Utpal Dutt had earlier worked in similar modes, it was Badal Sircar who consciously initiated this kind of theatre practice. Through his work, Badal Sircar articulated a philosophy and explained why he called his theatre the Third Theatre. He has written about this in detail in his book The Language of Theatre, which interested readers may consult. Jerzy Grotowski presented his idea of Towards a Poor Theatre in 1958, while Antonin Artaud spoke of the Theatre of Cruelty in 1937. Grotowski was influenced by Artaud’s work and acknowledged that Artaud helped him formulate his own ideas. Thus, one artist’s work helps another to understand a language and, by remembering it, to search for one’s own.

From Badal Sircar’s Third Theatre in 1976 to 2026—nearly 52 years—this theatre practice has seen ideas such as Prabir Guha’s alternative theatre or Bibhaban’s concept of intimate theatre. Yet for a long time, these practices remained confined within certain limitations, involving only a small number of theatre groups. They did not have the spread they have today, and there was often a sense of “us” and “them.” It can be said that this began to change in 2016, when the West Bengal Academy of Drama introduced intimate theatre as a separate category in its theatre festival.

Workshops and discussions on intimate theatre are now being held. At present, in Kolkata, venues such as Tripti Mitra Auditorium, Proscenium Arts Centre, Padatik, Thea Apex, and other theatre spaces, as well as several suburban locations, have created spaces for intimate theatre. Beyond Kolkata, theatre practice has also begun in other districts of West Bengal.

As I was saying, intimate theatre has its own way of being seen, and its language is different. Intimate theatre is neither Third Theatre nor alternative theatre; it requires its own preparation and stands as an independent theatrical form.

The current enthusiasm around intimate theatre is both hopeful and full of questions. Who do we call intimate theatre? All theatre contains intimacy and friendship—so what exactly distinguishes intimate theatre? What are its characteristics? Is it alternative theatre? Does it have its own philosophy? How is it different from Third Theatre, and why? What is its worldview? These questions naturally arise when something becomes popular and people become curious about the ideas behind it.

Through my own theatre practice, this essay attempts to explore answers to these questions, based on more than two decades of experience. There may be differing opinions, and discussion is welcome. First, I will try to explain what I understand by “intimate theatre.” This may not differ greatly from my earlier writings, yet as time changes, even the same ideas appear new, so I may be writing the same things anew.

By intimate theatre, I now understand a space that can accommodate a small audience—around 40–50 people, or sometimes even fewer, 10–15. Theatre performed in such a space is intimate theatre. Theatre groups performing in these spaces are free to adapt their productions as they wish; there is no conflict here. The defining feature is that actors remain close to the audience, allowing the expression of their emotions to be seen more clearly.

As for philosophy, just as a theatre group expresses its worldview through a play in any space, the same applies here—there is no separate philosophy inherent to intimate theatre. How is it different from Third Theatre? Third Theatre is a philosophical practice, and those who follow it may present their work within intimate theatre spaces. Is intimate theatre alternative theatre? After all this discussion, the answer should be clear: it is not. Alternative theatre is a position; intimate theatre is an independent theatrical practice.

What kind of practice is this, and what does it demand? When you perform in a space where even the wallpaper on someone’s mobile phone screen is visible, the actor and director must be far more alert and attentive. As an actor, when the audience is sometimes five feet away, sometimes just one foot away, the practice demands a deeper self-observation and an understanding through the eyes of others—whether the connection you seek is actually happening. There is no special or separate training for this; just as in any play, you prepare your character—why you say a line, to whom you say it, how your relationship with your fellow actor shapes the delivery of dialogue—the same applies here. Each play seeks a different kind of connection, and the director decides the mode of performance accordingly.

Those who practice intimate theatre do so from a shared intention; there is no rivalry, no competition. Across the world, this form is being practiced at a very high level. Beyond mere loudness or spectacle, we must think about making the theatre space itself more meaningful.

Trying to judge right now what qualifies as intimate theatre and what does not may lead us to mistakes. We should give this form more time—to understand it, to love it. Today, intimate theatre is a search for a language that awakens us, enriches us, and helps us recognize ourselves.