Is It Time to Cut Off the Bar at the Theatre?

(Photo: The Lyric Theatre)

by Chris Peterson

A night out at the theatre often starts at the bar. The clink of wine glasses, a round of gin and tonics, maybe even a champagne toast before curtain. In the West End and on Broadway, drinking before and during shows has become part of the ritual. People head to the bar as naturally as they check the seating chart.

But lately, another story has been bubbling up, one far less charming. According to a recent survey reported by The Stage, 77% of front-of-house staff said they had encountered “bad audience behaviour” in the last year. Ushers have been shouted at, shoved, and even threatened. Theatres are being urged to limit alcohol sales in response. Which makes me wonder: has the time come to rethink whether alcohol belongs in our theatres at all?

Alcohol is a huge money maker. Bars and concessions often keep the books balanced. For some theatres, drinks are as crucial to the bottom line as the cast onstage. And for many audiences, grabbing a drink is just part of the experience. It’s social. It’s fun. It feels celebratory.

But the same ritual that makes theatre feel like a night out also introduces a risk. Anyone who has worked in front-of-house knows the difference between a tipsy patron and a drunk one. In a lobby packed shoulder to shoulder, even one person who has had too much can turn a crowded, joyful space into a stressful one. An usher should not have to double as a bouncer. Yet increasingly, that is exactly what is happening.

When alcohol is flowing freely, the stakes go beyond the occasional loud laugh or spilled drink. The survey referenced in The Stage pointed to ushers facing verbal abuse and in some cases outright violence. That is not a small problem, it is a safety issue.

If you are in the audience, the bar is part of the atmosphere. A pre-show cocktail sets the mood. An interval drink is a time-honored tradition, especially in the West End where theatres famously pre-pour glasses of wine and beer for the break. Cutting alcohol might feel like cutting joy.

Some would argue that this is theatre, not a church service. People expect a certain looseness, a chance to let their hair down. And it is true, for plenty of people a drink in hand is harmless. Not everyone who orders a Sauvignon Blanc at the interval is going to turn into a problem.

But here is the flip side. Audiences also expect to enjoy the show without distraction. You have paid a premium to watch a performance, not the antics of the couple in row G who cannot stop arguing because they have each had one too many. Theatre relies on focus, both the actor’s and the audience’s. Alcohol is, by nature, a distraction. Lord knows I’ve seen this happen plenty of times.

Theatre is not the only live performance space grappling with this. Some concert halls restrict alcohol to pre-show only. Certain opera houses do not allow drinks inside the auditorium at all. Movie theatres have experimented with alcohol sales with mixed results. A few playhouses have trialed “dry shows” with no alcohol sold, especially at matinees. Others have introduced strict drink limits per person or cut off sales once the curtain goes up. The strategies vary, but the message is clear: this issue is not going away, and venues are being forced to test solutions.

Here is where it gets tricky. Alcohol sales are not just a nice bonus for theatres, they are often essential. A significant portion of ancillary revenue comes from the bar. If you take that away, theatres might need to raise ticket prices, lean harder on donors, or cut costs elsewhere. None of those options are particularly attractive.

And then there is the audience backlash. Plenty of theatre goers would be annoyed, maybe even offended, if they were told they could not order a glass of wine. In an industry already battling high ticket costs and declining attendance among younger audiences, alienating patrons feels risky.

Still, there is a counterpoint worth considering. If alcohol is driving away staff, raising insurance costs, or damaging the reputation of the theatre going experience, maybe the price of keeping the bar open is higher than it seems.

Banning alcohol entirely might not be realistic. But that does not mean theatres cannot make changes. What if there were a cut-off, with no alcohol sales once the show begins? Patrons could still have their pre-show and interval drinks, but no second round halfway through Act II. Or what if there were strict two drink maximums per person? Harder to enforce, sure, but not impossible. Some venues could even experiment with dry matinees or dry performances for shows that tend to attract rowdier crowds. At the very least, better staff training and support should be part of the equation. Ushers should not be left alone to deal with aggressive patrons. Security needs to be part of the plan. And perhaps most importantly, theatres should track and publish incident data. If alcohol is a driver of bad behaviour, the numbers will show it.

At its core, this debate is not about drinks. It is about what kind of atmosphere we want in our theatres. Is it a space of celebration and conviviality, or one of reverence and focus? Maybe it can be both. But if front-of-house staff are regularly being harassed or hurt, the balance is clearly off.

There is also the matter of respect. Theatre is live. It requires attention, silence, and collaboration between performer and audience. Alcohol tilts that balance toward chaos. The more disruptive the environment becomes, the more it cheapens the very thing we came to see.

I do not think Broadway or the West End will or should ban alcohol overnight. But I do think we have hit a tipping point where something has to change. Theatres should at least test restrictions, gather data, and ask audiences for feedback. Yes, bars bring in money. Yes, many patrons will be annoyed. But if the choice is between slightly fewer drinks sold and front-of-house staff being abused, I know which side I am on.

The magic of theatre depends on respect, between artist and audience, between patron and usher, between every single person who walks through those doors. If alcohol is undermining that respect, then maybe it is time we put down the glass and picked up the program.