Bold experiments, social commentary, and short formats define Chennai theatre now

Chennai has always carried a quiet reputation for its theatre. Long before the city was flooded with multiplexes, short videos, and streaming platforms, the stage was where stories breathed, where actors built community, and where audiences discovered themselves. Over the last two decades, however, this once intimate and committed theatre circle has scattered into a scene that is larger and more experimental, yet one struggling with consistency, pay, and attention spans.

From classic productions to 10-minute plays, Chennai’s stage is reinventing itself

Veteran director S Krishna Kumar, founder and artistic director of Masquerade, remembers a time when the city’s theatre was still a compact world, “a socio-cultural community meeting point, where everyone knew everybody else, both the audience and the practitioners.” Fewer groups existed, but those that did were filled with “eager and passionate players doing it for the love of it.” That intimacy, he believes, is largely gone. “Today, most aspirants think being seen on stage is a ticket to cinema. Most of the productions lack production values, short of strong direction or design… too much mass, too little class.”

Playwright and director Gowri Ramnarayan also recalls how different things felt. “I was able to do plays with a large cast because the actors and crew were ready for punctual attendance through many long rehearsals. I had newcomers working in every play. Now I have to confine myself to the few seasoned actors who are ready for the long grind.” For her, the shift has also been financial. “It costs much more to do theatre now than even 10 years ago.” Yet she notes some positive developments: more Indian playwrights are being adapted, multilingual theatre has gained ground, and Indian genres of music and dance are now seamlessly part of English-language productions.

V Balakrishnan, founder and artistic director of Theatre Nisha, paints the early 2000s as “vibrant, with remarkable festivals, visiting companies, and local groups creating memorable performances.” He says a theatre festival spearheaded by a media house was a defining moment. “It heralded a new era and became a banner under which theatre practitioners in the city found renewed vigour.”

Ranvir Shah, founder of Prakriti Foundation and the driving force behind Short+Sweet South India, insists the city was always buzzing. “There was a very active theatre scene in Chennai 18 years ago,” he says, pointing to Cho Ramaswamy’s Thuglak as a cult-defining production.

Most veterans point to the mid-2000s as a moment when Chennai theatre began to transform. Krishna Kumar recalls that by 2007, some were trying to build revenue models out of theatre, often relying on “quickfire comedies with rehearsed line declamation and costumed publicity as investment.” The result, he says, was quality plummeting because “any work that must go on stage deserves a longer period of production time.”

Denver Anthony Nicholas, director and actor at Poochus Productions, highlights another turning point: the introduction of short-format theatre. “Yep. The introduction of 10-minute plays.” A similar memory comes from AK Mikayil, who began directing and acting before founding Big Fry Productions. He credits festivals like Short+Sweet, KISS, and Prelude for introducing audiences to 10- to 20-minute plays and giving young writers and actors a chance to experiment with “whacky ideas.”

Not all agree that the changes have been positive. S Krishna Kumar warns that “too much theatre, too often performed” has diluted the city’s standards. Denver adds that set design and production values have “come down to bare minimum,” mainly because of a lack of funding. Director and writer KP Rajeev from Ekatha Creations, too, believes the city lags. “We are decades behind the world theatre when it comes to set design… we do use digital projections but they are seen more as a cost-saving innovation rather than creative.”

If there is one clear thread across all voices, it is that Chennai’s theatre reflects the city itself. “There is a lot more provincial relevance to our work today,” says Krishna Kumar. “We’ve largely rejected the global theatre and embraced the local more.” For him, it’s good that bold, in-your-face works can unsettle conservative audiences, but the cost is isolation from global theatre movements.

Gowri agrees that the stage has become more socially conscious. “There are more open, no-holds-barred public debates on social disparities, marginalisations, gender, and LGBTQIA+ issues now than before.” But she warns against sloganeering: “Since theatre reflects its times, these socio-political concerns are being centre-staged more often. There’s the danger of dialogues turning into slogans.”

Rajeev offers a sharper critique. “Chennai theatre is not yet bold enough to critically touch socio-political issues such as caste, religion, and fundamentalism.”

Dakshana, playwright and actor at Poochus Productions, brings in her own defining moment: the launch of Shensemble, an all-women collective, in 2024. “Our youngest member was 11 and the oldest 70. This coming together of women across age groups, backgrounds, and schools of thought, holding space for each other as humans and artistes, will forever be the most powerful, unifying, and defining moment for me,” says Dakshana, reflecting on her experience with Shensemble.

When it comes to technology, the voices are split. Krishna Kumar dismisses the idea that Chennai is innovating at all. “The groups here still largely only do a speaker-dominant theatre… when changes are perceived as happening, it is the lazy embracing of some electronic and digital technology to get stage design done and dusted.” For him, even set design has suffered. “Tremendously watered. I call it the Cubist Movement in Chennai Theatre. Hum up 4 to 8 cubes, throw in 10 to 50 mins of dialogue-driven narrative, inspired, repackaged, or directly lifted references from Kollywood, and theatre performance tick!”

He contrasts this with the richness of earlier productions: “Gone are the days of Mithran Devanesan, Natesh, Victor, or Mike Muthu. If a play happens with the diverse richness of life on stage, that’s a blue moon day.” Ranvir Shah, too, laments the absence of strong scenography since the passing of Mithran Devanesan, “the real set designer of Madras.” He calls it “a pity” that no one has filled the vacuum, leaving new technology largely unused in Tamil or English productions.

Others, like Balakrishnan, strike a middle ground, arguing that technology “can either enrich or diminish theatre, depending entirely on the skill and intent of those who employ it.” Mikayil admits that online streaming has changed things. It brings money and credibility, but also risks. “Seats sometimes become harder to fill; the magic of theatre disappears when you’re not in the physical space. LED screens that are used as backgrounds pale in comparison to the beauty of practical effects.”

Almost everyone agrees that audiences are harder to hold today. “Audiences are always ready for good theatre of any kind,” says Gowri, but the real challenge is their reduced attention span. Mikayil adds, “Short-form content has destroyed our attention spans, and we can barely sit through short films anymore, let alone full-length productions.” Denver points out another problem: many come simply to support friends and family. “We most often find ourselves in a situation where we consider ourselves lucky when we do get an audience that is discerning.”

If there is one refrain across all generations, it is funding. “Theatre doesn’t pay,” says Mikayil, “so I try as much as possible to make sure that it does.” He insists he will die on the hill of “a Chennai theatre scene that pays.” Rajeev echoes this. “Corporate support is critical for taking theatre to the next level, until it can sustain itself through ticket sales.” Balakrishnan, too, highlights the need for “accessible, affordable auditoria” and serious theatre criticism. Denver puts it simply, “We have no theatres for theatre.”

The younger generation is not without optimism. Mikayil dreams of more musicals, original full-length productions, and a safe community where theatre is not just a stepping stone to cinema. “I would like to see a resurgence of interest in theatre and live performance arts.” For Dakshana Rajaram, playwright and actor at Poochus Productions, it is about conversation. “Theatre has to hold space for conversation. For those of us who know, to share with those who seek,” she shares.

What emerges from these many voices is not a single story but a contradiction. Some mourn the dilution of quality and the pull of cinema. Others celebrate the flowering of short forms and the rise of new collectives. Almost everyone agrees that money, attention, and space are scarce.

Theatre in Chennai is no longer the compact, community-driven world of two decades ago. It is bigger, more experimental, more fragmented, and perhaps more fragile. But it continues, as always, to mirror the city itself—with a mix of tradition and daring, nostalgia and experiment, and struggle and survival. As Mikayil puts it: “Experimentation is always going to be met with criticism and scepticism. I think the spirit of theatre lies in its ability to persevere and evolve.”

Email: shivani@newindianexpress.com
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