The fat lady might not have sung but she is warming up in the wings according to the latest news from the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) about the Theatre Museum, its underperforming museum of performing art in Covent Garden.
The lights look set to go out in January, and winding up the museum will mean several redundancies. The New Year will be a melancholy round of farewell parties followed by months of packing up the collection and taking it to South Kensington.
It will be a sad day all round after 20 years hard work. A last-minute scheme by the Royal Opera House and the V&A to operate the museum together has stalled because of a lack of funding. Tears have been shed, including some that look suspiciously crocodile-like, while questions asked recently in the House of Commons select committee on culture were dead-batted by Mark Jones, the director of the V&A.
Among the protest letters written to The Stage and The Times expressing dismay is one signed by the directors of theatre museums from across Europe raising doubts about the V&A's parenting skills.
James Bishop, the chairman of National Heritage, has called on the British Film Institute to lend a hand. Having decided, rather wetly, to shut the Museum of the Moving Image in 1999, it is sitting tight on its collection and keeping quiet.
Many will share the frustration expressed by the Theatre Museum's long-term supporters. The V&A's vagueness about the collection's future has not been reassuring. There is talk of displays in Kensington, and a show about the Russia ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev, but nothing is definite.
While no one wants to see the collection mothballed, and its remaining staff left waiting for Godot, is the closure of the Theatre Museum the
dismal retreat that some claim?
Few would deny that the Convent Garden site left a lot to be desired. Visiting could be a dispiriting affair. On a recent Saturday, there were tours and hands-on sessions advertised, but I found the paintings gallery closed while caterers set up for a private function, and a make-up room and the museum's performance space locked between sessions. The cubby-hole near the entrance for the museum's Big Draw event didn't look promising.
The galleries themselves provide little to lift the spirits. Opened in 1987, rigor mortis set in some time ago. Recent 'improvements' include a sea of graphics about the 1950s and a lot about the bricks and mortar of the West End.
These are meagre pickings for a British visitor, but what must foreigners make of such parochial fare? Noel Coward's make-up box, and figurines on turntables, have a certain charm, but whatever their value as relics, the business of show business - creating magic, enchantment and, above all, emotion - is conspicuously missing.
If only the Heritage Lottery Fund had waved its magic wand. But twice that fairy godmother has turned down refurbishment plans, probably wisely. You can blame the Covent Garden venue - it's largely in a basement - for only so much.
There is an argument that something as ephemeral and intangible as live performance is bound to die a death in a museum. Perhaps it is best to archive what you can for researchers, always the museum's strong point, and display the props and costumes as a branch of design or social history.
But that would be a missed opportunity, as the impecunious but imaginative Theatre Museum in Helsinki shows. It won the Council of Europe Museum Prize (and features in the current issue of Museum Practice) because it conveys the often tawdry glamour of the theatre and explores the power of imagination.
There is history, playbills and plenty of props to admire, but they are the backdrop for an experience that is more drama workshop than history lesson. And unlike Covent Garden, with its emphasis on the 'legitimate' stage, the Helsinki theatre embraces variety.
With a bit more vulgar music hall, a dash of end-of-the-pier-show, and a helping of cinema and television, Britain's theatre museum could offer a lively mix like its Finnish counterpart.
Something is bound to be lost when translating life on the stage or screen to a gallery setting. But maybe, just maybe, the spirit of performance will survive the move to South Kensington, and could even flourish if the theatre museum's staff are allowed to shine.
Sometimes you need to take a step back to go forward. The V&A has shown that it can get in touch with its theatrical side. Spectres, a 2005 exhibition about fashion, put clothes in a proscenium arch to dramatic effect. And the Museum of Childhood shows that the V&A can tour excellent exhibitions beyond a circle of strategic partners.
But all the budget, curatorial, educational and marketing expertise in the world will be in vain if the public face of the theatre collection fails to include audience participation at its heart. Purists might shudder, but when it comes down to the scrapbook of a star or exploring our own inner actor, the latter is going to triumph every time.
Javier Pes is the editor of Museum Practice
The lights look set to go out in January, and winding up the museum will mean several redundancies. The New Year will be a melancholy round of farewell parties followed by months of packing up the collection and taking it to South Kensington.
It will be a sad day all round after 20 years hard work. A last-minute scheme by the Royal Opera House and the V&A to operate the museum together has stalled because of a lack of funding. Tears have been shed, including some that look suspiciously crocodile-like, while questions asked recently in the House of Commons select committee on culture were dead-batted by Mark Jones, the director of the V&A.
Among the protest letters written to The Stage and The Times expressing dismay is one signed by the directors of theatre museums from across Europe raising doubts about the V&A's parenting skills.
James Bishop, the chairman of National Heritage, has called on the British Film Institute to lend a hand. Having decided, rather wetly, to shut the Museum of the Moving Image in 1999, it is sitting tight on its collection and keeping quiet.
Many will share the frustration expressed by the Theatre Museum's long-term supporters. The V&A's vagueness about the collection's future has not been reassuring. There is talk of displays in Kensington, and a show about the Russia ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev, but nothing is definite.
While no one wants to see the collection mothballed, and its remaining staff left waiting for Godot, is the closure of the Theatre Museum the
dismal retreat that some claim?
Few would deny that the Convent Garden site left a lot to be desired. Visiting could be a dispiriting affair. On a recent Saturday, there were tours and hands-on sessions advertised, but I found the paintings gallery closed while caterers set up for a private function, and a make-up room and the museum's performance space locked between sessions. The cubby-hole near the entrance for the museum's Big Draw event didn't look promising.
The galleries themselves provide little to lift the spirits. Opened in 1987, rigor mortis set in some time ago. Recent 'improvements' include a sea of graphics about the 1950s and a lot about the bricks and mortar of the West End.
These are meagre pickings for a British visitor, but what must foreigners make of such parochial fare? Noel Coward's make-up box, and figurines on turntables, have a certain charm, but whatever their value as relics, the business of show business - creating magic, enchantment and, above all, emotion - is conspicuously missing.
If only the Heritage Lottery Fund had waved its magic wand. But twice that fairy godmother has turned down refurbishment plans, probably wisely. You can blame the Covent Garden venue - it's largely in a basement - for only so much.
There is an argument that something as ephemeral and intangible as live performance is bound to die a death in a museum. Perhaps it is best to archive what you can for researchers, always the museum's strong point, and display the props and costumes as a branch of design or social history.
But that would be a missed opportunity, as the impecunious but imaginative Theatre Museum in Helsinki shows. It won the Council of Europe Museum Prize (and features in the current issue of Museum Practice) because it conveys the often tawdry glamour of the theatre and explores the power of imagination.
There is history, playbills and plenty of props to admire, but they are the backdrop for an experience that is more drama workshop than history lesson. And unlike Covent Garden, with its emphasis on the 'legitimate' stage, the Helsinki theatre embraces variety.
With a bit more vulgar music hall, a dash of end-of-the-pier-show, and a helping of cinema and television, Britain's theatre museum could offer a lively mix like its Finnish counterpart.
Something is bound to be lost when translating life on the stage or screen to a gallery setting. But maybe, just maybe, the spirit of performance will survive the move to South Kensington, and could even flourish if the theatre museum's staff are allowed to shine.
Sometimes you need to take a step back to go forward. The V&A has shown that it can get in touch with its theatrical side. Spectres, a 2005 exhibition about fashion, put clothes in a proscenium arch to dramatic effect. And the Museum of Childhood shows that the V&A can tour excellent exhibitions beyond a circle of strategic partners.
But all the budget, curatorial, educational and marketing expertise in the world will be in vain if the public face of the theatre collection fails to include audience participation at its heart. Purists might shudder, but when it comes down to the scrapbook of a star or exploring our own inner actor, the latter is going to triumph every time.
Javier Pes is the editor of Museum Practice