The latest gossip about applause
by Thusnelda Marín Jungmann
The ring is ablaze. So is the atmosphere. Thunderous applause.
In the circus, applause is not only permitted, but almost part of the show. It is part of the score: after every trick, after every risky moment, sometimes even during strategic lulls. Applause acknowledges performance, but it is also a collective release following a moment of danger. A shared expression of gratitude that frees individuals from having to thank the performers personally later on. In any case: the audience becomes part of the performance, part of the rhythm. Karlheinz Stockhausen once described applause as “a powerful wave of warmth from the audience to the stage”.
But this is precisely where the tension begins: clapping appears spontaneous, yet is highly regulated – by expectations, social codes, power relations and group dynamics.
There are codes in gossip too: gossip as social glue. Gossip as social control. Gossip as something that simultaneously connects and disciplines. Gossip is a form of social entertainment in which information – unlike with applause – is exchanged about people who are not present. Gossip is considered morally questionable – what about applause? For applause is not articulated secretly in retrospect; the sound makes it immediately audible and visible, as a collective gesture that already anticipates the subsequent conversation. So, to what extent is (not) applauding already the echo of tomorrow’s gossip? Ask yourself: why do I actually applaud? Sometimes it is impossible to say. And sometimes the very act of applauding seems suspicious. Almost a fear of applause itself – as a form of collective self-assurance.
For gossip, at least in the short term, levels out differences in power and status. You don’t just clap because you like something, but also so as not to be left out of the situation. That is the first moment in which clapping can become ‘manipulative’: as conformity, as going along with the crowd, as proof of belonging. Applause then says something not only about the stage, but also about the audience: ‘We belong here.’ Perhaps this is the real turning point: applause is directed not only at the performers, but also at oneself.
It’s all rather confusing, this applause: a workshop on the dramaturgy of applause seems essential: when should, when may, when must one clap?
Clapping as revealing gossip
The sociologist Jörg Bergmann describes gossip as the art of revealing information about others. Applied experimentally to applause in the circus, this could mean: the intimate “gossip about others” shifts into the moment of the performance itself. In doing so, the audience reveals not only something about the stage, but also about themselves. Applause thus becomes a form of social affirmation: if everyone is clapping, it must have been good. Or to put it another way: “We are good spectators because we have understood.” Particularly in political or performative contexts, applause thus easily shifts from a judgement on the work to a statement about one’s own stance. And then the question arises: Can applause be trusted at all?
Audience Scenarios
Looking around, the following applause positions emerge:
Circus professionals who clap because they (believe they) can accurately read the virtuosity, discipline and precision behind the moment.
Circus professionals who, deep down, would love to give a slap to those clapping at the ‘wrong’ moments.
People who deliberately choose not to clap because they simply don’t want to.
Theatre enthusiasts who leave behind the passive sinking into a State Theatre seat and discover clapping as an immediate expression of emotion.
People with ballroom experience, for whom clapping signifies affirmation, empowerment and collective energy.
Inexperienced audience members who use clapping as a guide to mask their uncertainty and become part of the space.
Bored audience members who use clapping to snap themselves back to consciousness.
Children who ignore all these codes and simply clap whenever they feel like it.
And, of course, those out-of-sync individuals who can’t keep time during the final applause.
What is the right thing to do?
The question inevitably shifts to dramaturgy: how are plays structured to take clapping into account? For some moments on stage practically demand applause. If it then fails to materialise, an unsettling void arises – almost physically palpable, like a restrained reaction. As if the performers had been slapped in the face with a round of applause. Conversely, there is the opposite unease: applause at moments where silence was actually intended. A: “Huh? Why now?”
Between these two extremes, before any clapping takes place at all, a physical space of reflexes emerges: holding one’s breath, tension, heat in the room. Then release, as if a sauna attendant had poured water onto the stones: a collective exhalation, almost a groan in an audible “Oh”, a form of reaction that does not break down into rhythm. And there are other applicable variations: shouting, cheering, crying, laughing. Yet sometimes one is simply too shy. Presumably for this reason – or due to regulations from above – there were historically even professional mood-makers – so-called “claqueurs” in 19th-century France; the predecessors, so to speak, of today’s warm-up acts in TV formats. Should they be reintroduced to give the audience a foothold? But: how ‘genuine’ are the reactions then, anyway? It’s probably less about authenticity than about permission.
High Five instead of a final round of applause
Clapping cannot be fully controlled – and that is precisely where the risk lies. The trick is to endure the clapping. It’s allowed to be too loud. It’s allowed to be out of tune. You’re allowed to cover your ears. And at the same time, you’re allowed to be surprised into clapping yourself. Because that’s exactly what a live performance thrives on: unfiltered reactions. Perhaps the traditional circus, with its clapping conventions, doesn’t need to be punished in the end, doesn’t need a new set of rules, but simply a high five. A clap-back. A moment of contact. No longer hidden in the applause of the crowd.
And, this is no new gossip: applause alone is not enough. Why not give the performers a high five on your way out – and perhaps slip a little money into their hands as well. Because in our world, you can’t make a living off of applause alone.