‘It feels like an electric current into the audience’ Paul Chahidi: I’ve always loved seeing a play at Shakespeare’s Globe where the best view in the house costs only £5. It’s also where I got many of my earliest breaks as an actor. Performing a play there is unlike anywhere else. Walking out on to the stage for the first entrance, the jig at the end, the roar of the crowd (yes, really), the palpable excitement – it all feels more like being at a rock concert than a play. A soliloquy suddenly becomes a simple, direct conversation with an audience that you can actually see and even touch. It always feels like there’s an electric current running from the playwright, through the actors, into the audience and back again. And at the heart of any production there’s one extra character – the Globe theatre itself, the wooden O that brings 1,500 strangers together to listen and see; how we were, how we are and how we could be. Paul Chahidi is in all three series of This Country, available on BBC iPlayer. Read more about Shakespeare’s Globe. ‘I had an idea – it was on stage two months later’ Gary McNair: I’ve so many great memories of being in Edinburgh’s Traverse: crying, laughing and being presented with world views that challenge and enhance my own. But it’s the morning of 9 November 2016 I’m thinking of today. I’m there for a meeting and, with the news that Trump is president elect, it’s all a bit of a downer, to say the least. We sit in silence before Orla O’Loughlin, then artistic director, says: “We need to do something.” “Sorry,” I reply, “let’s focus.” “No,” she said, “we need to do something!” I shared an idea that captured my anger. It captured hers, too. Locker Room Talk was in development that day, on the stage two months later and has since been performed in Scotland, England, Ireland, Germany, Portugal, Russia and in parliament, to name a few places. That, for me, is theatre: urgent, responsive, connecting with people beyond yourself. That, for me, is the Traverse. Gary McNair’s plays include Locker Room Talk and After the Cuts. Read more about the Traverse. ‘It shows what theatre can achieve beyond the stage’ Danny Mac: I was given my first principal role, in Legally Blonde, at Leicester’s Curve in 2016. I broke through my own boundaries as Joe Gillis when we created Sunset Blvd here in 2017 and was put through my paces as Bob Wallace when we built White Christmas here, before transferring it to the West End in 2019. All this was thanks to the support, hard work and exceptional talents of the finest teams I have ever worked with. Led and run impeccably by Nikolai Foster and Chris Stafford, the care of artists and visitors throughout Curve is exceptional. It is a breeding ground for talent and proudly reflects the local community. Curve sets an example for what theatre can achieve beyond the stage, through youth groups and charity work. I would run back to work there. For Curve or regional theatres like it not to exist would be a tragedy of epic proportions. Danny Mac’s last role was in Pretty Woman: The Musical at the Piccadilly theatre, London. Read more about Curve. ‘Theatre was just something else that happened in that building’ Emma Rice: West Yorkshire Playhouse changed my artistic life and inspired me as a creative leader. In the early 2000s, it was WYP that committed to Kneehigh and, over several years, built us a loyal and passionate audience. We became part of the family, and Leeds our second home. The workshops were world-class with prop, set and costume makers weaving, sticking and nailing magic into the bones of the theatre. The building was democratic and porous with community groups such as Heydays and The Beautiful Octopus Club showing us how to create, enjoy and treasure life. The cafe was delicious and cheap, the foyer buzzed with school groups, and the bar opened late with staff and audiences mixing with the company. Theatre was just something else that happened in that building, an easy extra step to take – and it thrived and we prospered. WYP (now Leeds Playhouse) epitomised the word “welcome” and the people came. Astonishing. Emma Rice is the artistic director of Wise Children. Read more about Leeds Playhouse. ‘Art felt necessary – and supported’ Adjoa Andoh: At 20 I bailed on my law degree, made my father cry and headed for an uncertain future. I was a member of Bristol Black Women’s Group, where fellow member actress Deb’bora John Wilson first got me into her drama class, and then got me to audition for a play she’d written, that Ken Livingstone’s GLC was funding in London. I did so immediately, got the job and never looked back. The theatre that became my touchstone from 1984 until its demise in 2012 was where we opened. The Drill Hall on Chenies Street, central London. Built in 1882 as a drill hall for The Bloomsbury Rifles, and now part of Rada, its arts pedigree was established as the place Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes rehearsed with Nijinsky in 1908. We opened in 1984, directed by Sallie Aprahamian: a play with music with a cast of five black women, Where Do I Go From Here. Incomparably helmed by Julie Parker and Mavis Seaman, the Drill Hall became an oasis and creative hub for LGBTQI artists, artists of colour and all marginalised creatives. I have memories of being in the Snow Queen with playwright Bryony Lavery in fur coat, high heels and antlers; of In the Bunker With the Ladies – Vera Lynn meets lesbian panto, directed by Nona Shephard, one of my favourite ever jobs; Jackie Kay’s Twice Over, playing a bereaved teenager who discovers her grandmother’s beloved was a woman; and working behind the bar with childcare upstairs till 11.30pm for all of us staff with children. What a privilege to come up then – when art felt creatively and socially so necessary and supported, when theatre’s lasting meaning and discovery held people close and sent them braver out into the world. We need our Drill Halls now more than ever. Adjoa Andoh can next be seen in Bridgerton on Netflix. Read more about the Drill Hall. ‘I found my voice on that stage’ Angela Barnes: Comedians love to play the Komedia in Brighton. It’s so much more than a room with a bar and stage. Some brilliant magic happens that can make it one of the most exhilarating places in the country to watch and to perform live comedy. But for me, it’s not just my favourite gig; it’s my saviour and a little bit of my heart lives there. After a year where I had a relationship breakdown and lost my dad, I did something that changed my life for the better and for ever. I signed up to do the Jill Edwards standup comedy course there. So on a Tuesday night in May 2009, after 12 weeks of learning the ropes, I stood on that Komedia stage for the first time and told my jokes to an audience. It went … fine. They laughed. A bit. That was enough for me, there was no going back. I’d crossed over from punter to performer whether I liked it or not. I found my voice on the Komedia stage, and I relish every single time they let me get back on it. Angela Barnes and John O’Farrell’s podcast We Are History is available now. Read more about the Komedia.