Theatre Critique and Professional Practice: Engaging Artists and Audiences. Talking About Shows We Didn’t Connect With

Because the most important work for professional theatre practice often happens after the curtain call

Recently, I found myself in the theatre, watching a production that—at least initially—didn’t land for me. The pacing felt off. Choices that might have seemed bold to others felt clumsy to me. By the final curtain, my first instinct was to write it off as simply “bad theatre,” and to judge the artists involved accordingly.

Looking back, I recognise that I was wrong. That impulse—though natural—is unhelpful, both to the work and to the wider creative community. Around me, audiences were talking excitedly. Colleagues were animated, debating what had worked and what hadn’t. Social media buzzed with praise. The work clearly resonated, even if it had left me cold.

That moment of dissonance—between my personal reaction and the responses around me—is familiar to anyone who works professionally in theatre. It is also profoundly instructive. Perhaps a healthy theatre culture is not measured by how quickly we agree, but by the care with which we stay in conversation when responses differ. In a field that values expertise and insight, it is natural to form judgments quickly. Yet there is value in pausing, observing fully, and allowing different perspectives—including those of audiences—to coexist with our own.

As professional artists, our role as audience members is both a responsibility and an opportunity. Engaging thoughtfully with work that challenges us—without rushing to verdict—can deepen our understanding of the piece, the moment, and our own habits of perception.

That pause—that internal check before you speak—is not a failure of taste or confidence. It is part of artistic life. From rehearsal rooms to post-show conversations, from commissioning panels to late-night voice notes, disagreement is everywhere.

And it matters.

Theatre Thrives on Conversation—even Conflict - What happens when disagreement becomes a tool for understanding rather than a barrier?

“Engaging thoughtfully with work that challenges us—without rushing to verdict—can deepen our understanding of the piece, the moment, and our own habits of perception.”

Theatre does not develop through consensus. It develops through conversation—through interrogation, friction, and the willingness to remain engaged when something doesn’t land for you.

When one artist says, “I don’t understand this choice,” and another responds, “Here’s what I think they were reaching for,” the work opens again. Not to be corrected, but to be examined. That exchange sharpens thinking, exposes assumptions, and expands possibility.

Anyone involved in commissioning, development, or rehearsal knows this dynamic well. You don’t offer a brief and receive a finished object. You sit in rooms where people disagree—about structure, tone, character, rhythm—sometimes strongly. When those disagreements are handled with care and curiosity, they become generative. Writers clarify intention. Directors articulate instinct. Designers find alternative solutions.

Many of the strongest productions emerge not from smooth alignment, but from sustained engagement across difference.

The Professional Artist as Audience Member - How does our experience as artists shape the way we watch and respond to theatre?

“Professional artists as audience members carry insight—but our role is to witness before we evaluate, allowing work to unfold on its own terms.”

When artists sit in the audience, we don’t arrive neutrally. We bring training, experience, and habits of attention. We often notice structure before plot, rhythm before emotion, intention before impact. We recognise risk—and sometimes the absence of risk—quickly.

This doesn’t make us better audience members. It makes us different ones.

The question is not whether professional knowledge can be set aside, but how it is used. That literacy can deepen engagement, or it can narrow it if judgment arrives too quickly.

One useful discipline is to witness before we evaluate. Allowing the work to unfold on its own terms before measuring it against our preferences or the version we might have made ourselves is not a suspension of critique, but a sequencing of it.

Theatre unfolds over time, and its meaning often develops gradually. The structure, thematic threads, and emotional impact may only fully emerge toward the end of a performance. When we experience only part of a work—whether our attention drifts or we leave before it concludes—our understanding is inevitably partial.

There are many legitimate reasons why someone might not stay for an entire performance. Leaving quietly and without commentary is one thing. Publicly critiquing a work without experiencing its full arc is another. In such cases, restraint can be a form of professional care.

Because professional artists occupy visible positions within the field, our responses—spoken, written, or implied—often carry more weight than we intend. Even casually expressed opinions can shape perception, particularly in small, educational, or early-career contexts. This places a responsibility on us to consider how, when, and from what position we speak.

Generosity here is not about approval. It is about precision. It asks: What was this work attempting? Where was the risk? What was being tested? It allows disagreement without erasure, critique without contempt. It keeps attention on the work, not the worth of the artist.

Our perspective is informed, but not definitive. It sits alongside other responses, not above them.

Popular Work, Professional Response, and a Shared Question - How do we balance audience enthusiasm with peer critique when responses differ?

I have directed a production that brought this into focus. Public response was immediate and enthusiastic. Audiences returned, stayed to talk, and brought others with them. The work was clearly communicating on an emotional and communal level.

At the same time, professional conversations were more measured. Colleagues raised questions about framing, scale, and interpretive emphasis. These responses were thoughtful and grounded in experience—but they existed alongside a very different response unfolding nightly in the auditorium.

Rather than resolving into a verdict, this contrast opened a shared question: How do we, as artists, hold peer critique and audience connection in relationship to one another?

Professional discourse often attends to form, lineage, innovation, and context. Audience response often registers clarity, momentum, affect, and recognition. These are not opposing values, but different lenses. Neither should be used to invalidate the other.

The difficulty arises when one lens is privileged to the point of erasure—when audience connection is dismissed as simplicity, or when professional disagreement hardens into withdrawal rather than dialogue.

Shakespeare endures precisely because his work accommodates multiple registers at once. It was never written for a single audience or a single interpretive frame. Its durability lies in its capacity to be argued with.

For those involved in that production, the value was not agreement, but reflection: what was this work offering, to whom, and why? Sitting with that question collectively allowed both the work and our practice to keep evolving.

Dismissal, Silence, and the Health of the Field - What might we gain if we stayed in conversation with work that initially challenges us?

“One work does not negate a practice. One production does not cancel years of thinking, rigour, or experimentation.”

It can be tempting to step back quickly from work we don’t immediately connect with—especially when it comes from peers or mentors we respect. That reaction is natural, and acknowledging it honestly is part of professional growth. Yet while the impulse to withdraw may feel safe, it can also limit learning, dialogue, and the vibrancy of the artistic community.

Silence, in particular, carries subtle risks. When we avoid conversation entirely, we may inadvertently signal that disagreement is unsafe, or that collegial relationships depend on complete agreement. In educational and early-career contexts, this is especially significant: emerging artists are observing how dialogue, critique, and difference are handled, and their understanding of professional norms is shaped by what they witness.

Conversely, choosing engagement—even when it feels uncomfortable—creates opportunity. It allows us to explore why a work challenges us, to notice what risks are being taken, and to reflect on what succeeds or surprises. Engagement doesn’t require full agreement or approval; it simply asks that we participate thoughtfully, remain present, and contribute our perspective constructively.

Healthy artistic cultures thrive on this kind of engagement. When artists remain in conversation, even amidst disagreement, ideas grow, trust is reinforced, and creative exploration is encouraged. Engagement transforms difference from a source of division into a catalyst for learning, innovation, and deeper understanding. In this way, even work that initially challenges or frustrates us becomes an invitation: to witness, to reflect, and to be part of a collective process that sustains theatre’s vitality.

Trust, Risk, and Staying in Dialogue - How can trusting the work—and ourselves—help us navigate difference productively?

Trusting the work—your own and others’—is essential to sustaining disagreement productively. It is what allows conflict and difference to become constructive rather than corrosive.

Trust does not require certainty. It requires clarity of intention: understanding why a choice was made, what it seeks to achieve, and how it fits within the broader vision. It requires the ability to articulate those choices clearly and the steadiness to remain in conversation when responses diverge. It also requires humility—an awareness that your perspective, no matter how informed, is one among many.

Without trust, ideas contract. Defensiveness sets in, experimentation is curtailed, and disagreements become barriers rather than sources of insight. With trust, even contested work can generate understanding, inspire reflection, and open new possibilities. It allows artists to take risks confidently, knowing that a challenging or unconventional choice is not automatically a failure—it is an opportunity for dialogue, learning, and growth.

Trust also sustains relationships within the artistic ecosystem. When artists can trust that their colleagues will engage in discussion thoughtfully rather than dismissively, they are more willing to test boundaries, to innovate, and to explore ideas that might otherwise remain untried. Conversely, when trust is absent, collaboration becomes cautious, and theatre as a field risks stagnation.

In practice, sustaining trust means remaining present in conversation, even when disagreement is strong. It means holding space for reflection, offering constructive critique, and listening with curiosity rather than judgment. In doing so, both the work and the artists involved are strengthened, and the collective creative process continues to evolve.

Cynicism, Care, and Responsibility - Does staying curious and generous in critique strengthen theatre more than skeptical distance?

Cynicism can sometimes be mistaken for discernment. Comments like “I’ve seen this before” or “This is just hype” may feel informed, but they can limit dialogue rather than expand it.

Care, in contrast, encourages thoughtful engagement. It asks us to stay present even when a work challenges or frustrates us, to offer critique without erasing the effort behind it, and to remain curious when a production operates outside our usual expectations. Care invites us to notice the choices being explored, the risks being taken, and the intentions behind them—even when the results are unexpected or unfamiliar.

This approach strengthens the artistic ecosystem. It keeps conversation open, supports experimentation, and models for emerging artists that difference and disagreement can be constructive. Thoughtful care allows critique to sharpen understanding while respecting the work and its creators.

Ultimately, choosing care over cynicism is a way to sustain theatre as a shared endeavor. Every performance, whether it resonates fully or not, contributes to reflection, learning, and growth. Engaging with honesty, curiosity, and generosity ensures that theatre continues to evolve and remain vital.

Recognising the Influence of Aesthetic Preference - How can artists engage with theatre that looks or feels different from their own creative instincts?”

Emerging artists often develop strong ideas about what theatre “should” look or feel like. This clarity of taste is part of building a creative voice, but it can sometimes make unfamiliar aesthetics feel uncomfortable or even off-putting. When a production approaches story, rhythm, or style differently from what an artist naturally prefers, it is easy to assume it is “wrong” rather than simply different.

This reaction is normal and understandable. Early in a career, reference points are still forming, and it is natural to compare work to one’s own instincts. The challenge is to notice when that comparison is shaping judgment, rather than allowing the work to speak on its own terms.

Practising attentive observation can help. Emerging artists can focus on what the work is attempting rather than how it aligns with personal taste, asking questions like: What risks is it taking? What choices are being tested? How is it communicating to its intended audience? Approaching unfamiliar aesthetics with curiosity rather than dismissal expands understanding and encourages richer engagement.

By recognising the influence of aesthetic preference, emerging artists can engage more thoughtfully, honouring both the intentions of the work and their own developing perspective. It becomes less about agreement or approval, and more about learning, reflection, and participation in a wider conversation.

Talking About “Meh” Is Part of the Job - How can ongoing reflection and dialogue make theatre a living, evolving art form?

“Disagreement—precise, reflective, sometimes sharp—is a form of care. It signals that the work mattered enough to be taken seriously.”

Not connecting with a piece of work doesn’t make us disloyal to theatre—refusing to engage thoughtfully does.

The performance may leave us cold, puzzled, or frustrated, but our response continues to matter. Engaging with what challenges us is not a test of taste—it is part of professional practice. Initial reactions, shaped by experience and expectation, are valuable, but they are not definitive. True insight comes from pausing, witnessing fully, and holding space for multiple perspectives: those of audiences, colleagues, and the artists themselves.

Disagreement, when approached thoughtfully, is not a threat—it is a vital force. It sharpens thinking, surfaces assumptions, and sustains the creative ecosystem that allows theatre to take risks and grow. Silence or reflexive dismissal, by contrast, narrows understanding and discourages experimentation.

Professional artists occupy a dual role: insiders with process knowledge and audience members subject to impact. Balancing those positions with generosity, curiosity, and ethical attentiveness ensures that our responses contribute constructively rather than diminish the work.

The performance ends—but the conversation, reflection, and learning continue. Theatre lives most vividly in the exchange of ideas, in the questions we carry home, and in the ways we discuss, debate, and respond to what we have witnessed. Ongoing engagement allows work to extend beyond the immediate production, enabling both artists and audiences to deepen their understanding of risk, intention, and innovation. Learning comes not only from successes but also from moments of tension, uncertainty, and difference.

For professional artists, students, and early-career practitioners alike, sustaining this conversation is both a responsibility and an opportunity. It allows us to support peers in exploration, contribute thoughtfully to the life of a production, and model a culture in which curiosity, generosity, and constructive critique are valued. When disagreement is engaged with respectfully, it becomes a tool for collective growth rather than a barrier.

In this sense, theatre is never truly finished. Each performance is a starting point for dialogue, and every conversation—private, public, celebratory, or critical—feeds back into the work, enriching practice, understanding, and the community. By participating fully in this ongoing process, we honor both the craft and the people who create it, ensuring that theatre remains a living, evolving, and profoundly human art form.

“The performance ends—but the conversation, reflection, and learning continue. Theatre lives most vividly in the exchange of ideas, in the questions we carry home, and in the ways we discuss, debate, and respond to what we have witnessed.”