In Praise of the Interval

Most of this was originally in the Chorus Line thread, but I thought it merited a separate discussion.

I regularly read comments from prolific theatregoers (of which I'm one) to the effect: "Ninety minutes, straight through.  Wonderful!"  It makes me wonder whether they are actually enjoying the theatrical occasion, or whether they're so inured to it, that it has become a ritual that has to be suffered, and the quicker it is over, the better.

For my part, I love the full theatrical experience, and, to that end, I thought that a paean to the theatrical tradition that is the interval was long overdue.

There is the obvious practical issue that coming and going from your seat at a theatre is disruptive, and therefore suitable toilet breaks are essential.  Theatre, especially in the provinces, tends to have an older demographic, and weakness of bladder gets worse as you grow older.

There is the obvious commercial issue, that intervals generate bar and concession sales, which help sustain the industry.  A long show without a break means that not only are interval drink sales lost, but pre-show drinks cannot be risked by those whose bladders will not last the duration.

Those issues aside, I would argue that there are good aesthetic reasons for an interval.

A well-constructed play or show benefits from that pause between acts that allows you time to take stock, reflect, and wonder/discuss where it's going. The sense of anticipation of the next act, while savouring the previous, is a precious part of the experience.  In some dramas, the first act finale can be so intense, that you need the comedown that an interval provides in order to mentally reset for the next act.

To take an example, Sondheim is on record as preferring Follies without an interval.  I've seen it on Broadway with, and twice at the National without.   I'm afraid I have to strongly disagree with Mr Sondheim.  Artistically for me, it worked far better with the interval.  There is simply too much to take in with all the characters in one sitting.  Assimilating my thoughts during the break, aided my enjoyment of the piece.  I think people's familiarity with a work sometimes hinders them from understanding how it is experienced by first-timers.

When a playwright, or a director, skips the interval, it's often a sign of lack of confidence in the material, and fear that the full audience may not return.

I've occasionally seen a play that had a building, simmering tension that demanded to be uninterrupted, but such a beast is pretty rare in truth.

For your typical theatregoer, for whom this might be a once- or twice-a-year treat, they want a full evening experience, not something that's over in less time than it takes to perform Les Mis act 1.

In the world of cinema, despite the increasing number of films with running times in excess of 150 minutes, the pressure to maximise the number of screenings per day means that the intermission is an animal on the verge of extinction. The Irishman, at 209 minutes, was an extreme case in point. Gone are the days when such movies would be issued as "roadshow" epics, replete with overture, intermission, entr'acte and play-out music. That made for a grand occasion; now, the cinemagoer is merely a commodity on the production line to be in and out of the screen as fast as possible.