audience

Imax is having a moment. More than 50 years after debuting at the 1970 Osaka world’s fair with the 17-minute experimental film “Tiger Child,” the format has become the ascendant king of spectacle. Today, Imax counts 1,829 screens in 89 countries — just 1% of theaters — yet makes up an increasingly vital part of the theatrical box office, with 50% market share growth since 2018 and an estimated $1.2-billion take in 2025. And the company shows no signs of slowing down.

“As long as there are filmmakers who are fans as well as studios who are fans, we’re going to make a difference,” says Chief Executive Richard Gelfond, who acquired the company in 1994 with business partner Bradley Wechsler.

Breaking into mainstream Hollywood didn’t come easy. For decades Imax films were largely documentaries, often about space exploration, nature or discoveries, with systems installed in museums and science centers. The flash point came in 2008 with Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight,” which featured 28 minutes filmed with Imax 70mm cameras. Film buff and industry content creator Lizzy Gonzalez vividly remembers when the Joker (Heath Ledger) unmasks himself during the chaotic bank heist. “It was my earliest Imax experience, and my jaw dropped in awe,” she says. Ever since, she’s been hooked, admitting the premium format is “the only legit movie experience that immerses you in the story.”

Directors are now leaning in, with the “Filmed for Imax” (FFI) lineup expanding to 14 titles in 2025 — doubling last year’s total. The program lets filmmakers shoot with Imax cameras or other approved cameras and provides additional production support, such as a longer window with the equipment and more publicity during release. “In previous years, Imax used to do about 10% of the box office in North America, but [with] FFI movies we’ve averaged about 15%. It means more dollars to whoever makes them and more profit to the studio,” says Gelfond.

Regina Hall in “One Battle After Another.”

(Warner Bros. Pictures)

Not all movies exhibited in Imax formats are shot under the FFI banner — indeed, from James Cameron’s original “Avatar” to Paul Thomas Anderson’s “One Battle After Another,” the majority of Imax releases are instead enhanced using digital media remastering. But movies that take advantage of FFI, including “Sinners,” “Superman” and “F1,” are seeing box-office benefits and a palpable moviegoing experience.

“Today’s audiences are searching for an emotional connection; they want to feel something, to step inside the filmmaker’s vision. That’s exactly what we wanted to give them by shooting in 65mm Imax,” says “Sinners” cinematographer Autumn Durald Arkapaw, who was the first woman to shoot in the format. “When you sit in a dark theater and take in a full 1.43:1, 15-perf Imax image, it fills your field of view, and you finally understand what cinema can be.”

Claudio Miranda, the cinematographer behind Joseph Kosinski’s “Top Gun: Maverick” and “F1,” agrees. “For me, Imax is all about immersion. It brings audiences more into the movie than any other format, surrounding them from the north, south, east and west with the film, which is needed for a story of the size and scope of ‘F1.’ Joe and I operate under the shared understanding that audiences react more viscerally to a film that’s been shot authentically, and they can feel it in their bones if it’s not. So we gravitate towards telling immersive, human stories.”

Imax is improving technical capabilities too, including a new Imax 70mm film camera system nicknamed “The Keighley” in honor of late Chief Quality Officer David Keighley, who oversaw hundreds of Imax projects. Its most significant improvement is reduced noise. The previous model was bulky, heavy and notoriously loud. Thanks to the quieter design, Nolan’s “The Odyssey” will become the first theatrical movie shot entirely on Imax film cameras, something he couldn’t achieve on “Oppenheimer” due to sound issues.

“Brad Pitt” in “F1.”

(Warner Bros. Pictures)

Nolan’s adaptation of Homer’s epic has already caused a stir, as most Imax tickets sold out a year before its release next July. Imax superfan Shane Short, who saw “Oppenheimer” 132 times and once sat next to Arkapaw during a screening of “Sinners,” says it’s a good thing. “What really pulls me into movies is the emotional aspect when connecting with something. For me, it’s hard to get that in a normal theater. Imax is truly the ultimate immersive experience that draws me in.”

Of course, Imax is not the only big-screen game in town. There’s AMC Prime, Cinemark XD, Regal RPX, Dolby Cinema, Real3D and 4DX, to name a few. All share one thing in common: an extra premium for a ticket. “The upcharges for a lot of people are worth it,” says Comscore senior media analyst Paul Dergarabedian. “When you go into Imax or other premium formats, it’s really about the sound and vision coming together. And for the right movie, the right screen, fans who don’t go to the movies every day are going to splurge.”

How much that will cost audiences going forward is left up to theaters. “By way of our agreement, it’s not our place to get involved,” says Gelfond about pricing. “We believe there could be more elasticity if it’s a big release, but again, it’s up to the exhibitor.” Any indication of a price squeeze on consumers will likely surface in the next two years with the forthcoming “Project Hail Mary,” “Supergirl,” “The Batman: Part Two” and “Dune: Part Three,” for which director Denis Villeneuve shot scenes using the new Imax 70mm cameras.

Our guess? Start saving now.

Advertising on streaming services is a big new growth business for marketing and media companies, but consumers are increasingly frustrated by what they see and hear on their screens.

Ads might be too loud, of poor quality or irrelevant, and repeat too often. Sometimes, there’s an ad in a foreign language or a blank screen. As more streaming services launch ad-supported plans, viewers are experiencing these issues in greater numbers, which could come at a cost to the media companies.

“It can lead to them losing subscribers,” said Ruben Schreurs, chief executive officer of Ebiquity Plc, a London-based consultancy that says 75 of the world’s top 100 advertisers are clients.

Better, more-relevant advertising has been one of the recurring mantras of the connected-TV world. As online platforms gathered more data on their users, they were supposed to provide sponsors with targeted opportunities. Consumers would see spots for products they were more likely to want. Instead, those advances have become the source of viewer frustration.

National ad spending on streaming is expected to climb 13% to $12.3 billion this year, while such spots on traditional TV networks fall 4.9% to $33.8 billion, researcher Magna Global estimated in June. Streaming now reaches 96% of U.S. households, according to another researcher, Kantar Group & Affiliates, making the services a big opportunity for advertisers.

“We’ve seen more budget and spend move over,” said Joe Nowak, senior vice president of growth and strategy at Kantar.

Walt Disney Co. and Netflix Inc. have launched advertising-supported plans for their streaming services. At Netflix, ad-supported plans account for more than half of new subscriptions in markets where those plans are offered. They are usually offered at a discount. Disney+ with commercials is $12 a month, for example, while the ad-free version is $19.

Streaming offers advertisers distinct advantages over other media, according to Nowak, including interactive capabilities. On Amazon.com Inc.’s Prime Video service viewers can click into ads to buy the products shown.

In theory, advertisers can also target consumers more closely on streaming services. In traditional TV, all viewers typically see the same ads during a given broadcast. With streaming, commercials can become more personalized through a process called “dynamic ad insertion.” Audiences see commercials tailored to attributes like their location or viewing history.

It’s also easier and cheaper for advertisers, including smaller ones, to purchase streaming spots than it is on broadcast or cable.

Streaming ads are typically sold in online auctions, where spots for shows, sporting events and movies go to the highest bidder. That’s led to “democratization of access,” according to Ebiquity’s Schreurs.

“Instead of actual salespeople from the network negotiating directly with media agencies for big activations, big deals for well-known brands where they can vet the creatives, the process has become real-time,” he said.

Without that vetting, streaming platforms have less control over the ads that appear on their platforms. The smaller brands winning auctions may not have the same resources to produce high-quality commercials, according to Sean Muller, chief executive officer of the ad measurement platform iSpotTV Inc. These businesses sometimes rely on artificial intelligence to produce their ads, he said.

“You absolutely get a lot of that, and they do tend to be lower-quality,” Muller said.

Another common issue centers on ad frequency. With brands able to snap up ad blocks at auction, they sometimes get overzealous, feeding viewers the same spot over and over in a single show.

That’s particularly frustrating for streaming viewers, who are “more of a captive audience” than traditional TV audiences, who can easily change channels.

“Switching apps is a little bit of a pain in the butt,” Muller said.

And unlike the old days when consumers recorded programs to watch later, in the streaming era you can’t skip the commercials.

While streaming ads can pinpoint audiences based on their ZIP code, they sometimes miss wildly. For instance, viewers in a neighborhood with a large Latino audience may get an ad in Spanish even while watching a show in English.

“If it was done the right way, it would be running in Spanish-language content,” said Jim Wilson, CEO of Madhive, an ad platform designed for local advertisers.

There are other problems with streaming ads that seldom pop up on regular TV. For example, a blank screen sometimes appears during commercial breaks.

“They’re either not sold out on their inventory or there’s some sort of technical issue,” Wilson said.

But perhaps the biggest annoyance for streaming viewers happens when ads are ear-splittingly loud — a problem that used to crop up on conventional TV. That happens when streaming services fail to “normalize” the volume on ads before they are inserted.

In October, California passed a law requiring the services to keep the sound level of ads the same as the programming they accompany. It was inspired, according to state Sen. Tom Umberg (D-Orange), by one of his staffers whose sleeping baby was awakened by a loud streaming ad.

“This is a quality-of-life issue,” he said in an interview.

The legislation, which takes effect on July 1, 2026, could inspire changes on a national level and is one of the most well-known bills he’s worked on.

“This struck a chord with anyone who watches any entertainment on a streaming service,” Umberg said.

Miller and Palmeri write for Bloomberg.

Director Paul Feig has proved himself to be the preeminent purveyor of the finest high-camp trash one can find at the movie theater these days — and that’s a compliment. If he’s serving up the trash, then call me a raccoon, because I’m ready to dive in.

Feig’s special sauce when it comes to these soapy, female-driven thrillers like “A Simple Favor” and now “The Housemaid,” adapted by Rebecca Sonnenshine from a “BookTok” sensation by Freida McFadden, is clearly his comedy background. The filmmaker understands exactly the tone to deploy here; you can feel his knowing winks and nudges to the audience with every loaded glance, stray graze or wandering camera movement. It’s as if he’s saying to us and all the tipsy ladies in the audience: Check this out — LOL, right? LOL indeed, Mr. Feig.

“The Housemaid” is an erotic crime thriller that deploys silly sexual stereotypes and fantasies like the naughty maid and then flips them on their head. In the opening scene, the drably dressed, bespectacled Millie (Sydney Sweeney) interviews for a live-in maid position with the warm and friendly wife and mother Nina Winchester (Amanda Seyfried) in her gorgeously appointed Long Island mansion designed by her wealthy husband, Andrew (Brandon Sklenar of “Drop”).

But all is not what it seems, for applicant and employer. Both are hiding dark secrets but Nina hires Millie nevertheless. Millie, without any other options, gratefully accepts.

When Millie moves into the maid’s quarters in the attic, she discovers that the Winchester home isn’t as picture-perfect as it seemed. Little things are off: She can’t open her window, the groundskeeper, Enzo (Michele Morrone), glowers at her constantly, items go missing and CeCe (Indiana Elle), Nina’s daughter, is exceedingly cold.

Then there are the big things that are off, like Nina’s wild mood swings and the vicious gossip about her mental health among the other Stepford wives of the area. Millie realizes she’s in over her head with Mrs. Winchester, but her saving grace is the warm and handsome Mr. Winchester. Is that where this is going? Of course it is, we all groan together, happily.

“The Housemaid” is like “Gaslight” meets “Jane Eyre,” with a dash of “Rebecca,” and all the various roles are lightly scrambled, infused with a much sexier, nastier streak than any of those mannered mindbenders. Feig stylishly waltzes us through this steamy, twisty mystery with ease, but not necessarily sophistication — this is the kind of frothy entertainment that you can still enjoyably comprehend after a glass or two (which in fact might enhance the experience).

But it doesn’t fly without an actor of Seyfried’s caliber, who can summon unpredictable mayhem from her fingertips. Nor would it function without Sweeney, who works best in a register somewhere between ditzy blond and tough little scrapper. Both actors exude an element of the unhinged that simmers right below the doe-eyed blond surface and we know we should be a little (or a lot) afraid of these women. The film also doesn’t make sense without a heartthrob like Sklenar, since we need to fall in lust with his gorgeous exterior and intoxicatingly cuddly aura for this all to eventually make sense.

There’s not much more to say without giving it all away, so prepare to titter, gasp, scream and cheer for this juicy slice of indulgent women’s entertainment. Go on, you deserve a little treat this holiday season.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

CBS News is moving forward with a series of town hall and debate telecasts with a major advertiser backing them, the first major initiative under editor-in-chief Bari Weiss.

The news division announced Thursday it will have a series of one hour single issue programs under the title “Things That Matter” done in collaboration with the digital platform the Free Press.

CBS News parent Paramount acquired the Free Press which was co-founded by Weiss, in September.

Bank of America will be a major sponsor of the series.

The town hall participants include Vice President JD Vance, who will discuss the state of the country and the future of the Republican Party, OpenAI Chief Executive Sam Altman on artificial intelligence and Maryland Gov. Wes Moore on the future of the Democratic Party.

The debate subjects include “Should Gen Z Believe in the American Dream?,” “Does America Need God? and “Has Feminism Failed Women?” The debaters include journalist Liz Plank, New York Times opinion writer Ross Douthat, and Isabel Brown, a representative for the right-wing organization Turning Point USA.

No dates have been set, but the programs will air in the current 2025-26 TV season which ends in May.

CBS tested the town hall format Saturday with a telecast that featured Weiss sitting down with Erika Kirk, the widow of slain right-wing activist Charlie Kirk. The program taped in front of an invited audience and averaged 1.9 million viewers according to Nielsen data, on par with what CBS entertainment programming has delivered in the 8 p.m. hour in the current TV season.

The town hall format where a news subject takes questions from audience members has long been a staple of cable news channels. Broadcast networks have typically only used it with presidential candidates.

“Things That Matter” is less of a play for ratings than a symbol of the new vision for CBS News under Weiss.

“We believe that the vast majority of Americans crave honest conversation and civil, passionate debate,” Weiss said in a statement. “This series is for them. In a moment in which people believe that truth is whatever they are served on their social media feed, we can think of nothing more important than insisting that the only way to get to the truth is by speaking to one another.”

Weiss hosted the town hall with Kirk. CBS News has not announced the on-air talent for the “Things That Matter” series.

Weiss was recruited by Paramount Chief Executive David Ellison to pull the news division towards the political center where he believes most of the country stands.

The Free Press gained popularity for its criticism of DEI, so-called woke policies, and strong support of Israel. The site is often described as “heterodox” and has been critical of numerous actions of the Trump administration. But its biggest fans tend to be in the business community who disdain high taxes and big government.

There were only four days left of shooting on “Hamnet” when Chloé Zhao realized she didn’t have an ending. The filmmaker had led the cast through a week filming the pivotal climactic sequence inside the Globe Theatre, where William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) is staging his opus “Hamlet,” but something was missing. The script had Shakespeare’s wife, Agnes (Jessie Buckley), and her brother Bartholomew (Joe Alwyn) witnessing the demise of Hamlet (Noah Jupe), a denouement that should have evoked a sense of release. But even though the moment was meant to tie Shakespeare’s masterpiece to the still-fresh death of Will and Agnes’ 11-year-old son, Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe), neither Zhao nor Buckley could feel the necessary catharsis.

“Jessie and I avoided each other for the rest of the day because we both knew we had no film,” Zhao says. “We both went home feeling completely lost.”

“We were searching for this ending,” Buckley adds. “It was a daunting idea to try and pull together all the threads of the story we’d woven prior to this moment. I felt incredibly lost and a bit untethered.”

Zhao admits that she rarely preplans the endings of her films because she doesn’t tell stories linearly. She imagines the journey of her characters unfurling in a spiral, with the story extending downward into the darkness before rising back up.

“I’ve had to wait on every single film,” she says. “But this time I was going through the ending of a relationship, so I was terrified of losing love. I was holding on to it with dear life.”

Actors Jessie Buckley and Joe Alwyn with director Chloé Zhao on the set of “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska)

The morning after they filmed the scripted ending, Buckley sent Zhao Max Richter’s “This Bitter Earth,” a reimagining of his song “On the Nature of Daylight” with lyrics. The filmmaker played it in the car on her way to the set.

“I could feel the tears and the heart opening, and then I started reaching my hand out towards the window,” Zhao remembers. “I was trying to touch the rain outside of the car. I looked at my hand and I realized that I needed to become one with something bigger than me so I would no longer be afraid of losing my love. Because love doesn’t die, it transforms. When we’re one with everything around us, it’s the illusion of separation that makes us so afraid of impermanence.”

The true culmination of “Hamnet” occurred to Zhao as she reached for the rain. If Agnes reached her hand toward the dying Hamlet, he could then rest and she could let go of her grief over losing Hamnet. And if the audience joined her, the sensation of release would be even greater.

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“The thing I didn’t expect, the surprise of it, was the absolute communal surrender,” Buckley says. “The way the fourth wall was broken between the play and the audience, the need to reach out and touch the core of the play. Agnes’ compass has always been touch.”

Although the specifics didn’t come to life until those final days, Zhao always planned the production so the Globe scenes would be done last. Production designer Fiona Crombie re-created the historic open-air theater on the backlot at England’s Elstree Studios using real timber brought in from France. The set version, which took 14 weeks to build, is smaller than the original Globe to create a sense of intimacy.

Plans for the building of the Globe Theatre set in “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska)

“This is my version,” Crombie says. “Our footprint is a bit smaller overall, but the essential architecture of the tiers and the roofline and the shape and everything is accurate. By virtue of having real beams that are scarred and aged, it feels more realistic. We wanted the whole thing to feel completely authentic. You want to smell these sets and feel these textures off the screen.”

“I told Fiona I wanted it to feel like the inside of a tree,” Zhao says. “So, spiritually, it’s correct for this story. And the play is accurate. We didn’t change any lines.”

Historically, there would not have been a backdrop onstage. But for the thematic purposes of “Hamnet,” a backdrop was essential. “There was a whole conversation about not just the aesthetic but the importance of that motif,” Crombie says. “It’s also a wall that separates Will from Agnes.”

“Hamnet’s” Globe was constructed to have a working backstage so Mescal, Jupe and the players could move in and out of the wings. There were real prop tables and makeup stations, as well as a nod to other Shakespeare plays. “We had a horse from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ that was loaned from the real Globe,” Crombie says. “There were loads of details everywhere that honored theater.”

The actors learned significant portions of “Hamlet.” Mescal led the cast of players in rehearsals before filming. “We would rehearse later in the evenings as an ongoing part of the process,” Mescal says. “Once the camera came in, it was Chloé’s baby, but we rehearsed consistently throughout the production. It was so cool. I have a lot of sympathy for directors. What I loved about it wasn’t necessarily the act of directing. It was more so the part of the process in helping me to act. It felt weird to direct them as Paul, but I could direct them as Will.”

Paul Mescal backstage at the Globe in “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska / Focus Features)

Mescal and the players acted out 30 to 40 minutes of “Hamlet” while filming. The actor describes the feeling of being on the Globe stage as “sacred,” both because of the physical space and because of the emotional quality of the scenes.

“It felt very charged,” he says. “Up until that point we knew we had made something very special, but we were also acutely aware that this is where you had to land the plane. And that came with its own pressure. There’s something very special about playing Shakespeare and hearing Shakespeare’s words spoken in that place. The film is talking about the collision of art and humanity, and there are no greater words to communicate that feeling than the words in ‘Hamlet.’”

Zhao enlisted 300 extras to be the theater’s crowd. Each day, Zhao and Kim Gillingham, a dream coach who worked on the film, led the cast and extras in a daily meditation or dream exercise. It was unlike anything many of the actors had previously experienced.

“Everyone dropped into this very deep place of connection to themselves and to what was happening in front of them on the stage,” Alwyn says. “It was this amazing collective feeling of catharsis and connection to something bigger than ourselves.”

(Evelyn Freja / For The Times)

“The performances from some of the supporting artists are extraordinary,” Mescal adds. “And that was intentional in terms of how Chloé constructed that feeling and by having Kim there.”

After Will notices Agnes in the audience, he goes backstage and finally breaks down, experiencing a long-awaited release of grief. Mescal prepared for the scene by listening to Bon Iver’s “Speyside.” Fittingly, it was the last thing he filmed.

“The play becomes something different because it’s being witnessed by Agnes,” Mescal says. “It comes alive for the audience because of this weird alchemy. Something feels different in the air. That moment felt like such relief, like he could just let go.”

“Hamnet” ends with Agnes reaching for Hamlet. In doing so, she gives herself permission to let her son go. It was a moment that had to be discovered rather than constructed.

“The scene became a holding of collective grief in a communal space where we were allowed to let it out,” Buckley says. “It was like a tsunami. I’ll never forget it.”

In Mescal’s mind, the film’s ending is really its beginning. He imagines the relationship between Will and Agnes will go on, continuing the spiral.

“I have no idea how a relationship survives the death of a child, but I do think there is a miraculous hope and they can see each other again in that moment,” Mescal says. “They’ve abandoned each other in certain moments, but now she understands where he went. And I think they will return to each other.”

(Evelyn Freja / For The Times)

When I first started playing “Dungeons & Dragons” as a tween, my friends christened me with a new good-natured nickname: gamer geek. While we could spend hours in front of a screen with the latest “Zelda” title, the dice-focused tabletop role-playing game was viewed with suspicion, a ’70s-era invention that belonged to a certain subset of nerd.

Times have changed.

Today, “Dungeons & Dragons” enjoys mainstream recognition, and live game sessions from the likes of Critical Role and Dimension 20, the latter of which last summer enjoyed a date at the Hollywood Bowl, have only further cemented its wide appeal. Now a heavily improvised theatrical production, “Dungeons & Dragons: The Twenty-Sided Tavern” has come to the Montalbán Theatre in Hollywood.

The show, which ran off-Broadway in 2024 after years of development, is celebratory, a victory lap for a game that has endured more than half a century. It invites participation, with actors performing the action inspired by the dice rolls and allowing the audience to influence the direction of the show by making choices via a smartphone.

Alex Stompoly, left, and Anjali Bhimani in “Dungeons & Dragons: The Twenty-Sided Tavern,” a production that invites audience participation.

(Andromeda Rodriguez)

“Twenty-Sided Tavern” brought me back to days and nights crowded around my family’s living room table. My father was an executive with TSR, Inc., the company that created “Dungeons & Dragons” — there were glass dragons on our fireplace mantle, pewter dragons on our bookshelves, painted dragons on our walls and even a metal dragon that hung from a necklace I wore too often (and that probably didn’t help me with getting dates). As a junior high kid, the game was a refuge, a creative tool where I could envision characters, worlds and fantastical scenarios.

There was a lot of math, too, and quite a bit of rules, not to mention addendums to rules and fine print to those rules, but I discovered early on a key to its personal appeal, one that likely makes many hardcore followers of the game cringe: Story comes first, the rules a distant second. In fact, I discarded any directive that got in the way of a more fanciful tale.

It pleased me that “Twenty-Sided Tavern” does as well. When my showing the other week began not with beholders and battles but instead a yarn about trying to flirt with and seduce a dragon, I couldn’t help but smile. For the best “D&D” games, no matter how serious, tense or dramatic they may get, are always a bit silly, or at least they are to me.

“I know we hear about toxicity in gaming all the time, but when I picked up my first ‘D&D’ set that my brother gave to me when I was 8 years old, what was open to me was not just a world of storytelling,” says Anjali Bhimani, a co-producer of the production as well as a regular performer in it. “It was a world where a halfling could kill a red dragon, where it didn’t matter where you came from. There was always a seat for you at the table.

Anjali Bhimani in a production of “Dungeons & Dragons: The Twenty-Sided Tavern.” The actor views the game as a storytelling tool.

(Andromeda Rodriguez)

“I think the sense of belonging that tabletop RPGs and ‘Dungeons & Dragons’ can provide is so, so, so powerful, and I think it really is a means to just bring people together in a way that a lot of other media can’t,” she adds.

“Twenty-Sided Tavern” does have some constraints. It is, after all, staged in a theater. But it also throws the traditional rules of theater by the wayside. Expect, for instance, to be on your phone most of the show. We’ll lightly direct the production, voting, for instance, to explore a castle’s catacombs or the mysterious woods. Many will cheer a good dice roll, and it wasn’t out of the norm at my matinee for the audience to shout suggestions or requests. When, for instance, said storyline about romancing a dragon became a bit risqué, a woman kindly reminded the cast that there were children present. It was toned down, but not before an actor made a joke about the show being educational.

“This doesn’t have to be a stuffy, fourth-wall drama,” says Michael Fell, the show’s creative director. “We can create a sense of community. As much as there is a script — there kind of is — we aim to have engagement with the audience every two pages. That means they’re calling out a name, asked to come on stage or it’s just an election on your phone where you make a choice or play a small mini-game. No engagement on the phone ever lasts more than nine seconds.”

In “Twenty-Sided Tavern,” there are three core actors playing and acting out the game, one dungeon master and a sort of tavern keeper helping to keep score and track of the story. There’s a setup at a bar and a quest involving a threat to the town, but each show is unique. The cast may swap roles, the audience may concoct a monster — my group envisioned a giant, destructive slice of pumpkin pie — and settings will shift based on audience vote, done via smartphone.

It’s a little bit like theater as sport.

“This is gamification of live entertainment. Part of what I’m doing is mirroring what happens in sports entertainment, but in a live theatrical setting,” says David Carpenter, the founder of Gamiotics, which co-developed the show and powers the smartphone tech behind it. “This show has surprised me for years, but one of the early surprises was the entire audience losing their mind when someone rolls a 20. It’s like someone scoring a touchdown. The audience goes nuts because they didn’t see it coming.”

Anjali Bhimani, left, Will Champion and Jasmin Malave appear ready for battle in a production of “Dungeons & Dragons: The Twenty-Sided Tavern.”

(Andromeda Rodriguez)

Like the game, “Twenty-Sided Tavern” theorizes that stories can be at their most powerful when they are not passive, when we as audience members have a role to play and invitation to interact.

Carpenter is curious how far the audience choice can be pushed to shift a narrative. He talks in the future of experimenting more with moral or ethical decisions. There are none in “Twenty-Sided Tavern,” where occasionally the audience may influence an action in a way similar to a dice roll. We’ll tap, for instance, to fill up a meter on a screen, and where it lands may indicate a success or a failure. Here, the smartphone gamification is used to prod a narrative rather than define it, a reminder to me that “D&D” is in some ways a story creation tool.

“There are stories that we have told in tabletop games that I have played that I never would have imagined coming up with in the writers’ room because the dice told the story that they did,” says Bhimani.

The large-scale audience participation of “Twenty-Sided Tavern” naturally invites a jovial, party-like atmosphere. It succeeds in extending a hand to the audience, welcoming us into what can be a complex, daunting fantasy world. It argues that “Dungeons & Dragons” is for all, much as I did as a junior high kid who made it something of a mission to convert my name-calling friends with the hopes of showing them the joys of gathering with little more than paper, pencils, dice and an imagination.

“It’s still somewhat intimidating to a lot of people because they think, ‘I have to know all these rules and learn all these spells and read all these books,’” Bhimani says. “Coming to the ‘Twenty-Sided Tavern,’ it’s about telling a great story. Yes, we roll dice. Yes, there are spells. But ultimately, that’s just scaffolding to tell a beautiful, improvised story.”

I remember when I played weekly games in high school, my friends used to joke that I, as dungeon master, would “lose” because I did everything in my power to keep everyone’s character alive and playing, wanting to see a narrative to a conclusion that didn’t end in anyone’s death. They wondered if I was running the game incorrectly because they always succeeded. Yet I saw “Dungeons & Dragons” as a wholly collaborative endeavor, and I felt that way again watching “Twenty-Sided Tavern,” an ode to the idea that “Dungeons & Dragons” is best when shared.

And a reminder, too, that there is no wrong way to play it.