Jessica Ryan

What was particularly fascinating, though, was that being in a live audience in the theatre (red line) led to higher highs and lower lows than watching in a small group (yellow line) in my lab. It was even more reduced when people watched the movie alone (brown line) in my lab. In fact, because of the scaling it looks like they flatlined but I can assure you, the peaks and troughs are present, they are simply greatly reduced in size.

Collective effervescence led to emotional enhancement, making the live performance with a big audience that much more impactful.

But its five-second intro, a post-toke cough followed by a throaty scream, had popped up in a few TikToks of MMA fighters pummeling each other and weightlifters grunting beneath squat bars. Experience had taught 25/7 Media that when brief “recreates” of these kinds of songs burble up in those particular TikTok communities, virality can soon follow. When the number of recreates climbs into the tens or hundreds of thousands, Magana told me, two of 25/7’s core tenets become germane. The first: Once a social media user hears an audio snippet nine times, it gets stuck in their head to some degree. The second, which Magana has dubbed the Ten Percent Rule, is that 10 percent of those earwormed users will end up tracking down the snippet’s original source. 

Rather than pay one or two famous influencers to use the “Toxic” intro in the hopes of producing a trickle-down effect, the firm appealed to scores of MMA and weightlifting TikTokkers whose followings rarely top more than a few hundred. (Some were given small payments to push the song, but others were happy to do it for free.) Flooding the zone this way caused TikTok’s algorithm to funnel posts featuring “Toxic” into the feeds of users who consume gym-centric content. Inevitably, some of those users were creators themselves, and they began to weave YoungX777’s clip into videos targeting related subcultures—like the region of TikTok obsessed with highlights of soccer players bursting past hapless defenders.

“The League doesn’t ask patrons to rank the primary driver in their ticket purchase. (Individual shows sometimes do in their own research surveys. I’ve heard various figures from producers throughout the years—and most are similar to what I found. Though it has varied to a certain extent show to show.) That’s what I asked of people—what truly drove their purchase. I went to musicals as well as plays from last spring to this fall; I did not poll at any show running over two years. For Shucked, a show that several people told me greatly benefited from influencers, I spoke to twenty people during previews and then another fifteen people later in the run. In total, two of 200 people I spoke to said an influencer was the primary reason they purchased a ticket. Both of those people were under 30. Several others had seen influencer content, but that content was not the primary reason they purchased tickets. (Source material, stars, personal recommendations, and press topped the reasons; show specific obviously.)

There are likely many reasons that influencers are not driving ticket sales. According to the League, last season the average theatergoer was 40.4 years old, older than the typical influencer target. Theater tickets are generally expensive, so it may take more than one person’s word to take the plunge and buy. But, additionally, most influencers that push theater consistently are so-called "theater influencers" and primarily have their content pushed to theater fans.”