Sometimes It’s Just Too Hot for Outdoor Theatre

(Photo: Julie Stanton)

by Chris Peterson

There’s something magical about outdoor theatre. The breeze rustling through the trees during a soliloquy. The sun setting as a love story unfolds. The idea of it is romantic, nostalgic, even a little rebellious.

But sometimes it’s just too hot.

This week, a Reddit post caught my eye. A cast performed Shakespeare in full costumes during a heat wave. The temperature hit the mid 90s. There was some shade. No cooling stations. Actors went down with heat-related sickness. They completed four shows during that heat wave. But that’s not dedication. That’s dangerous.

I understand why outdoor summer theatre is appealing. It can be low-cost. It brings theatre to the community. It’s a tradition for a lot of groups. But when the weather turns dangerously hot, we have to stop pretending it’s business as usual.

No one should get hurt to prove a point about resilience. No one should be expected to push through heat stroke symptoms to hit their cue. We’re not talking about uncomfortable conditions. We’re talking about serious health risks. And we’re often asking people to face them without proper support.

We have to plan better. That might mean starting shows later in the evening. It might mean offering shorter versions of the play. It might mean cancelling entirely. But pretending extreme heat isn’t a factor isn’t brave. It’s irresponsible.

What frustrates me is that these situations are often preventable. Weather forecasts exist. We know what’s coming. If you’re staging an outdoor show in the middle of July, extreme heat should be part of your planning. Hoping it cools off is not a safety strategy.

There are smart ways to respond. Build in water breaks. Offer cooling tents backstage. Let performers wear lighter clothing during tech and rehearsal. Make sure there’s an open dialogue about heat and wellness. Actors should be able to say they’re not okay without fear of being viewed as unprofessional.

And it’s not just about the cast and crew. Audiences suffer too. No one wants to sit through Twelfth Night while their folding chair sinks into the lawn and their brain starts to boil. People should be challenged by the story, not the climate.

Outdoor theatre can be wonderful. I’ve seen shows under the stars that took my breath away. But when safety is sacrificed, that magic disappears. It becomes about pride. Or stubbornness. Or worst of all, neglect.

And let’s face it. These conditions are only going to get worse. Summers are hotter now. Triple-digit days are becoming the norm, not the exception. If we want to keep producing theatre in the open air, we have to adjust.

We always talk about how theatre is a family. If that’s true, we have to take care of each other. That means checking in. That means listening when someone says they need to stop. That means understanding that postponing a show is sometimes the most professional choice a company can make.

The show does not always have to go on. Not at the expense of people’s health. Not when the cast is collapsing. Not when the audience is trying to stay upright in the sun. Sometimes the right call is to stop, regroup, and try again when it’s safe.

That’s not weakness. That’s respect. And that should be the tradition we protect most of all.