Toronto theatres are losing the war on cellphones. Is it time to pull out the nuclear option?

How they work is simple: when you enter the theatre, you power down your cellphone completely and place it in one of these pouches. While you get to keep your phone with you at all times, the pouch is locked inside the auditorium. Once the show is over, you can access your phone again by tapping the pouch on an unlocking device at the exit.

They’re certainly effective. No more audience members texting their friends midshow. No more ignoramuses snapping photos of the performance. No more people answering calls during the most climactic scene of a play, only to whisper aggressively, “I can’t hear you, honey,” repeatedly. (Yes, I’ve witnessed all of these examples, including that last one.)

But theatres in Toronto have stubbornly refused to adopt this technology, though disruptive cellphone users are more common than ever. And it’s left everyone else to pay the price.

These days, you rarely even see ushers reminding patrons to turn off their phones. Pre-show speeches offering similar reminders have mostly gone by the wayside. If there’s a small note in the program telling audiences to power off their devices, it’s almost always illegible.

On Broadway, by contrast, eagle-eyed ushers patrol the aisles, holding up signs reminding patrons to turn off their phones.

Yondr pouches aren’t an uncommon sight either. This season, they are being employed by Tracy Letts’ show “Bug” and the new play “Liberation.” Last year, audiences attending the revival of “Othello,” starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Denzel Washington, also had to lock up their devices.

But this issue goes beyond annoying and disrespectful cellphone use. It also comes down to the actors’ safety and privacy.

For Broadway productions featuring nudity, Yondr pouches are almost always a given.

But here in Toronto, not so. I was shocked, for instance, that Canadian Stage’s recent production of “Slave Play,” which features a final act with full-frontal nudity, barely took any precautions to prevent cellphone use or illegal recordings of the performance. (Canadian Stage did not respond to a request for comment.)

That’s putting a lot of trust in the hands of audiences — a trust that may very well be misplaced.

The Canadian Actors’ Equity Association, which represents stage performers across theatre, dance and opera, said its agreements do not address audience cellphone use. Alex Levine, executive director of the association, said the organization’s view is that theatres “should commit to enforcing the ‘no recording during a performance’ policy they all seem to have.” He added that the association will discuss the issue more fully ahead of its next round of negotiations.

Mirvish, the largest commercial theatre producer in Canada, has only used Yondr pouches for one production: a recent standup comedy show at the CAA Theatre. John Karastamatis, director of communications for the company, said the pouches are a hassle to use and an added expense when presenting a show.

“As an audience member, I’ve found it a big nuisance. It creates a logjam in entering a venue and causes a lot of confusion,” he told me. “Furthermore, it does not stop phones from ringing during a performance. If anything, it makes it worse because the owner of the phone cannot turn off the device, as it is locked in a pouch.”

Karastamatis raises some compelling arguments, but the issue of ringing cellphones in locked Yondr pouches can be easily mitigated if ushers ensure all devices of turned off before they’re stowed away. And as for the problem of these pouches creating a logjam: it may be something we just need to live with in exchange for a more focused and attentive audience.

Right now, it feels as if Toronto theatres believe bad audience behaviour might be an issue elsewhere, but not in our theatre scene.

Here’s the thing: sure, the problem in Toronto might not be as bad as, say, on Broadway. (In Toronto, I have yet to see police officers drag out a drunk couple after they accosted other audience members, as I witnessed in New York City.) But we are not much better either.

As a critic, I’m mostly shielded from these phone addicts because I usually attend only opening-night performances, filled with industry folk and fellow critics who know instinctively to power down their devices before the curtain rises.

But I was in for a rude awakening over the holidays when I caught up with several shows post-opening. Nearly every one featured ringing cellphones, people texting or snapping photos.

What makes the experience in Toronto especially miserable is our (very Canadian) nonconfrontational attitude. At least on Broadway, if someone dares to whip out their cellphone during a show, you can bet that a sassy New Yorker will shut them down immediately. Here, you might find a few angry stares, but rarely would anyone dare call out another patron.

(An aside: can we please normalize telling others to put away their phones rather than keeping quiet and seething inside? I find that a kind but firm, “Can you please put that away? It’s distracting to your fellow audience members,” usually does the trick.)

Some theatres are hesitant to push back against disruptive cellphone users because they’re concerned they might come across as too puritanical. They’re scared of alienating these patrons, who may be inexperienced theatregoers, or coming across as too inaccessible.

This line of reasoning isn’t new. But it’s fundamentally flawed.

First, it presumes that these disrupters are new audiences. In my experience, these kinds of patrons are often some of the most respectful, following the social cues of those around them. It’s actually the semiregular audiences who are the most brazen and entitled.

Second, it also assumes that clamping down on disruptive phone use and making theatres more accessible are mutually exclusive. But they aren’t. We can take a harder stance on the former while promoting more inclusive programming — such as relaxed performances and assisted listening services.

These objectives are really very much aligned: it all comes down to respect, for both the actors and audience members in a communal space.