One of the most productive contributions to performance that scholars have made to theorizing globalization is to document how people understand global transformation as expressed through representation. An additional element of this contribution is the examination of reception – what understanding did audiences and critics glean from what they saw onstage. This issue of Theatre Research International brings together a diverse set of articles, ones that were not written with any of the others in mind. Despite this, however, read together these articles offer a primer on the effects, successes and failures of performance in the context of global movement currently and in the past. Some of these authors look at theatre that literally travels – around the world, around the nation – and others that travel more figuratively – as part of historical circuits of transmission like colonialism. In whatever sense travel is defined and explored in this issue of TRI, all of these articles remind us that live performance is always about the circulation of embodied ideas through time and space. Travel is built into the form itself.

Draped in a tatty woollen korowai (cloak), Ben Hana, aka ‘Blanket Man’, was an iconic, polarizing and mythical presence on the streets of central Wellington, New Zealand, until his death in January 2012. A critical character in contemporary urban folklore, Blanket Man captivated public attention as ‘Brother’, the leader of a band of fellow street-dwellers, a troubled anti-hero transformed into celebrity by the trend-setting hoi polloi as evidence of the capital's underlying quirk. This essay explores the unsettling representation of the puppet ‘The Blanket Man’ in the theatre production The Road That Wasn't There (2013) by the collective Trick of the Light. As a brave tribute or cross-cultural opportunism, the reanimation of the now ‘absent’ Brother as a performing object provokes questions about the representation of ‘real’ indigeneity – exploring notions of authenticity, exploitation and tokenism.

This article examines a theatrical network, the Bandmann Circuit, managed by Maurice E. Bandmann in the first two decades of the twentieth century as a form of globalized theatre. It asks why this kind of transnational theatrical activity has received so little scholarly attention and proposes utilizing actor-network-theory as a means to make the complex connectivity of such enterprises visible. The first section of the article discusses the concept of early globalization, roughly the period from 1860 to 1914, as a period having many parallels with our own time. The second part discusses actor-network-theory as a theatre-historiographical method, which is then applied to selected nodes of the Bandmann Circuit, in particular repertoire, audiences and the use of local partners as examples of a much more multiaxial undertaking.

This article considers the role of laughter at the early modern and reconstructed Globe Theatres. Recently, debate has emerged over the nature of laughter at the Globe, as some critics and scholars believe that the actors encourage the audience to laugh excessively at the reconstructed Globe Theatre on Bankside in London. This article explores these concerns by tracing the anxieties surrounding laughter during the early modern period, and analysing their views against the modern actor's perspective at the Globe. The article argues that the architecture and shared lighting of the theatre foster more comedic moments for the audience, and considers its implications.

Increasingly, the administration of Mainland Chinese performing troupes, including xiqu, is focusing on audiences. Xiqu troupes are undergoing systemic reform (tizhi gaige), during which troupes are increasingly expected to adopt a commercial model (zhuanqi gaizhi). This requires a paying audience. Yet for decades, urban establishment xiqu troupes, as state entities, depended on governmental support and approval, not on self-selecting audiences or independent criticism. One new national initiative, intended to identify and protect core repertoire and broaden audiences nationwide, has been the Grand Prize for Outstanding Repertory Piece (youxiu baoliu jumu dajiang). Drawing on field research conducted during the tour of such a work, this study suggests that there is an institutional will to change performance models, as well as a paying audience for xiqu, even outside their immediate cultural areas. The emergence of a small, traditional-minded, highbrow, affluent, national theatre-going audience is noteworthy; what scope of performances it might sustain without government support is open to debate.

The Queer Futures working group had its first formal meeting at the International Federation for Theatre Research's annual conference at Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich in 2010. That year those gathered decided on our group's name, mindful of queer theory's temporal turn, but more fundamentally hoping it would signal a commitment to fostering queer research within IFTR for years to come. While some of us working on queer theatre and performance projects had found supportive homes in other working groups in the past, there was a sense among the founding members that a working group specifically dedicated to queer research was long overdue, in order to adequately respond to the range and complexity of queer practices, theories and methods that we found ourselves grappling with. Although we were aware of a sense within certain sectors of the academy that queer theory's moment had passed, this was not entirely consistent with our personal and political beliefs, or scholarly pursuits. This conviction has since been vindicated by the growth and activity of the group.

In 2013, Siona O'Connell, Nadia Davids and I were awarded an Arts and Humanities Research Council (UK) grant to support our Sequins, Self & Struggle: Performing and Archiving Sex, Place and Class in Pageant Competitions in Cape Town project, the aims of which are to research, document and disseminate archives of the Spring Queen and Miss Gay Western Cape (MGWC) pageants performed by disparate coloured communities in the Western Cape. Important to these performance events is the figure of the ‘moffie’, a queer male, often a transsexual, who has traditionally choreographed and designed the Spring Queen pageant, but who is forbidden from competing in it. Alternatively, MGWC is a platform for queers of colour to perform in a secure environment without exploitation. My individual work in this collaboration focuses on the MGWC pageant and the attendant methodological questions that have arisen in our attempt to forge bridges between Western queer theory and local articulations of gender identity and alternative sexualities, considering the current preoccupations in scholarship around (South) Africa that cut across geography, politics, economics and history. I will briefly outline the research questions that have arisen from my particular focus on the project aims: the relationship between post-apartheid South African national identity and gay rights, new postcolonial directions in queer theory and the sexual geographies of Cape Town that are bounded by race and economic privilege.

Lest We Forget, my current research project at Concordia University, critically analyses the history of queer theatre and performance as it intersects with the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Canada. Stretching over three decades and taking the country's bilingualism into consideration, its objectives are to study the aesthetic variety and political complexity of plays and performances that attend to the epidemic and to identify the multiple challenges faced by theatre artists and activists. Furthermore, the project explores the methodological and historiographical challenges when studying HIV/AIDS theatre and performance in a Canadian context.

Los Invertidos (1914) by the Argentinean playwright José González Castillo (1885–1937) is probably the first play in the Spanish-speaking world to treat ‘sexual inversion’ – code for homosexuality in turn-of-the-century European sexology – as material for the modern stage. A three-act drama realista (‘realist drama’) that sets out to present ‘sexual inversion’ in a recognizably Argentinean setting and idiom, Los Invertidos demonstrates, as Edward Said puts it, that ‘ideas and theories’ – in this case about modern drama and sexuality – ‘travel’. González Castillo launched queer visibility on the Argentinean stage with dramatic models and embodied behaviours forged from international and local sensibilities. I argue that Los Invertidos, while shaped by sociopolitical and aesthetic upheavals in the Southern Cone, invites us to place its theatricality in a queer ‘genealogy of performance’ that crosses geographic and linguistic boundaries. How we describe and contextualize queer theatre today might well be informed by González Castillo's innovations and confusions during modern drama's early decades.

This short piece highlights a current spurt in queer researcher–practitioners doing practice as research (PaR) in higher education and explores potential reasons why PaR is so vital, appealing, useful and strategic for queer research. As a starting point, we offer the idea of messiness and messing things up as a way of describing the methods of PaR. Queer mess is to do with asserting the value and pleasure of formations of knowledge that sit outside long-standing institutional hierarchies of research. The latter places what Robin Nelson calls ‘hard knowledge’ above tacit, quotidian, haptic and embodied knowledge. The methodological and philosophical impulses of PaR make space for a range of research methods inherently bound up with the researcher as an individual and the materiality of lived experience within research. Yet, in our experience, although each PaR project is individual, PaR projects follow certain shared modes evolving largely from embodied and heuristic research methods adapted from social sciences, such as (auto)ethnography, participant observation, phenomenology and action research. PaR methodology in theatre and performance is composed of a bricolage of these openly embodied methods, which makes PaR, as an embodied resistance to sanitary boundaries, somewhat queer in academic terms already. It is unsurprising, then, that PaR is so attractive to queer practitioner–researchers bent on queering normative hierarchies of knowledge.

After more than thirty years of solo autobiographical theatre created by LGBTQQIA performers throughout the West, the primary focus of shows made by artists of these identities has more or less remained stable since 1980. In 1982, queer performance artist Tim Miller presented the autobiographical solo show Post-War, and he is part of what is now a tradition of presenting out, celebratory, authentic LGBTQQIA stories onstage. As a self-identified trans performance artist and performing researcher, I have taken part in this practice. Performances, extending from Miller in 1982 to J MASE III in 2014, continue to revolve around the necessity of ‘coming out’, presenting the stories of how we came to know and experience the ‘truths’ of our identities. Performance theorist Deirdre Heddon confirms that these autobiographical works have largely been concerned with, and successful in, ‘using the public arena to “speak out”, attempting to make visible denied or marginalized subjects, or to “talk back”, aiming to challenge, contest and problematize dominant representations and assumptions about those subjects'. Works such as Miller's Glory Box (1999), which used his personal history of having a partner who is not a US citizen to discuss gay marriage and legal immigration for same-sex couples, and trans and Tamil performer D’Loco Kid's D’FaQto Life (2013), which presented an intersectionally marginalized trans person of colour's experience and narrative, have been critical in supporting political and personal empowerment for audiences and performers alike.

Under the conditions of neoliberalism, the desire to acknowledge difference may blur with a contemporary demand for the same. How might queer solo performance allow us to historicize the cultural and political exigency of exceptional subjects? An example: in recent weeks, I have been preoccupied with British writer and director Neil Bartlett and designer Robin Whitmore's A Vision of Love Revealed in Sleep. The piece is a sequence of devised works staged between 1987 and 1990 dedicated to the memory of Simeon Solomon, a ‘short, red-haired, ugly and flagrant Jew’ and contemporary of Oscar Wilde born to a good family whose ‘fallen life’ was dedicated to the pleasures of alcohol and rough trade. Inspired by Solomon's paintings and his prose poem from which the work takes its title, the performance is drawn from fragments of text and (auto)biography: images and words from the late nineteenth century colliding with the experience of being a gay man in the late 1980s in the midst of the AIDS crisis. Originally presented as a solo work, later iterations were performed by Bartlett alongside three London queens: Bette Bourne, Regina Fong and Ivan.

Before the rise of the political and theoretical project of ‘queer’ (which, in my estimation, is a second-wave millennial project begun in the 1990s), scholarly and performative lesbian practices were situated within and against feminist scholarship. Early on, the agenda was to establish lesbian visibility and, in consequence, to reveal and deconstruct the structures of representation, on the stage and on the page. Indeed, the context for lesbian work was intentionally composed of women, misunderstood as separatism, while actually creating a fully gendered notion of surrogation. By this I mean to gesture to Joseph Roach's notion of surrogation as ‘improvized narratives of authenticity and priority’ that can ‘congeal into full-blown myths of legitimacy and origin’. In situating lesbian visibility strictly within the gendered category of women, a genealogy and authenticity were invoked for its representation that were removed from the violence of binary logics of gender.

‘Queer’ and ‘lesbian’ are terms that offer valuable interventions in the field of theatre and performance studies. Current scholarship largely does not account for an amalgamation of these two positions, but, as some female performers, such as Rosana Cade, are aligning their work with both terms, there is a need for a more nuanced discourse that accounts for an engagement with the histories ascribed to ‘queer’ and ‘lesbian’ in performance and what these terms offer. My doctoral research seeks to investigate whether the term ‘post-lesbian’ is beneficial for analysing contemporary practice that draws from both positions.

On 1 February 2014, Ireland's best-known queer performer, drag artist Panti (Rory O'Neill), delivered a ten-minute speech on the main stage of the Abbey Theatre following a production of James Plunkett's play The Risen People (1958). The oration was the last instalment in a series of so-called ‘Noble Calls’ programmed by the national theatre, in which invited artists, activists and public intellectuals spoke after the production about an issue of pressing concern. Plunkett's drama explores the impact on a family of the 1913 Dublin Lockout, during which approximately 20,000 people took to the streets in an industrial dispute over working conditions. Marking the centenary of the event, the production and its Noble Calls commemorated the original incident, while also encouraging reflection on the state of contemporary Ireland, and the public's aspirations for a country deeply affected by recent social, cultural and economic upheavals.