The Royal Opera House was right to issue warnings about its latest production - it's not 'PC gone mad'

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Another week goes by, and another political correctness controversy is kicked up. This time, the Royal Opera House has faced a flurry of cancellations after emailing all those who booked tickets to its upcoming production of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, warning them about acts of sex and violence within the production.

The tragic opera, in which the titular Lucia is manipulated into abandoning her fiancé and driven eventually to misery and murder, was never likely to be a hugely cheerful affair. Its director, Katie Mitchell, is not one to shy away from some staged brutality: her production of Cleansed at the Dorfman reportedly caused multiple audience members to faint as limbs were crushed, tongues cut out and a metal pole was inserted into one character’s nether regions.

The Royal Opera is understandably cautious. Last year, its production of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell was booed and faced audience walkouts after an intense rape scene, for which the Opera issued an apology.

So it wasn’t wholly surprising when an email was sent out by production bosses earlier this week, which cautioned that "the team's approach will lead to scenes that feature sexual acts portrayed on stage and other scenes that — as you might expect from the story of Lucia — feature violence".

Critics of the move fall broadly into two camps: those who say that the increasingly graphic operas which audiences are being treated to are all about publicity; and those who say that this kind of pre-show warning represents nannying, or, at worst, an attempt to curb freedom of artistic expression.

The second of these arguments is ludicrous. Peddled out by those who unblinkingly describe political correctness as having “gone mad”, it reflects a smug intellectual superiority, in which sensitivity and civility are seen as secondary virtues to a kind of bawdy, elbows-out battle over who appreciates art the best.

At its most basic, it says that people should be more thick-skinned, and that art is at its best when it is not held accountable to personal sensitivities.

To provide an example as to why the argument against content warnings is a hollow one, one need only look at the film industry. For years, all films have been accompanied by viewer guidance certificates – from the age symbol in the corner of posters, to the warning that comes up before a screening.

We’re even told when something is totally harmless, and no one kicks up a stink about being patronised. Last year’s The Revenant, for example, was labelled as having strong violence, bloody injury detail and strong language. Did having this information available spoil anybody’s experience of the film? Did it cause the film to be suppressed artistically?

The answer, certainly, is no.

The fact is that, for a great many people, elements of theatre can be hugely troubling or upsetting. Yes, there is a kind of sweet stupidity in attending an opera or a revenge tragedy if you are repulsed by death or sexual violence. That isn’t reason enough, however, to refuse to adapt to the needs and feelings of others.

Instead, rather than these flashes of dramatic warning, theatre should look to the example set by the cinema, and adopt a standardised system of content warnings for productions. To do so would allow people who have sensitivities to make themselves properly informed and would not disrupt the experience of others, who will simply ignore them.

The ability to watch highly graphic scenes without experiencing any kind of trauma is an unacknowledged privilege. We all should respect that by providing warnings for those who cannot – it is simply the more caring and decent thing to do.