A Boston Theatre Critic in 2020
A Boston Theatre Critic in 2020
Piece by James Wilkinson
Folks…where even to begin?...I mean, what a time to be alive, am I right?...
Those of you who regularly visit the blog, (and I follow the analytics obsessively enough to know that there are at least a few of you), will note that this is the first post I’ve put up in quite a while. The primary reason for this is that the COVID-19 pandemic has shut down all theater in Boston for the foreseeable future. Try as I might, I can’t write about theater that doesn’t exist. I know that some critics, looking to fill in their new-found free time, have moved over to reviewing the slew of online theater media that’s been coming down the pipeline. Here in Boston, a number of local companies have started playing with the theatrical form, producing content that can be experienced from the comfort of your own living room. I’ve tried following suit, only to discover that once I’m in front of a blank Word document, trying to get the words to flow that my heart’s just not in it. For me, theatre criticism has always been about trying to capture the feeling of live experience in the performance space and when the experience is mediated through a screen, all I do is stare at the image, wondering what I’m doing here. As far as I can see, not much. Had I pushed through the malaise I know I would have ended up doing the job half-assed and I didn’t want that. (As the saying goes, it’s better to do one job whole-assed). Still needing a way to fill the long empty hours, my focus for the last few months has shifted to other forms of creative work, as well as dealing with some personal matters, (key among them, the creeping existential dread that a global pandemic dredges up).
Then all hell broke loose when the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and other black Americans at the hands of the police sparked nation-wide protests, (and before I go on, just to cut off any potential confusion, I should probably take a second to affirm that, yes, Black Lives Matter). It seemed that the nation was finally ready to tackle its ugly racial history head on and take action in a way that would have long-lasting positive impact. Whether or not this happens remains to be seen. Battling these issues is an ongoing process, not as simple as flipping a switch. For now, I’m clinging to the optimistic view that something good has to come out of this mess.
The Boston theatre scene hasn’t been immune from the sweep of the historical moment. A number of individuals and companies within the scene are now using the COVID pause for a moment of self-reflection, examining the ways that the voices of non-white individuals both have and (mostly) have not been brought to the table. As it happens, I have some skin in one specific area of this conversation that I’d like to talk about today: theater criticism. It’s been pointed out that in Boston theater criticism bends towards a white gaze, (a few exceptions stand out, so it’s not 100% white, but let’s say that it hovers somewhere around a comfortable 95%). Despite some attempts to diversify/expand the field, (most notably the Front Porch Art Collective’s Young Critics program), change is a slow time coming.
From my own understanding, part of the work of anti-racism is laying bare the invisible systems that are working around us at all times. Nothing happens in a bubble. For that reason, I wanted to take a moment to try and demystify the process of working as a critic in the Greater Boston area, to touch on some of the challenges that will reappear if/when the stage lights turn back on. I can’t speak for everyone in the scene, nor is it my intention to. I can only speak for what I’ve seen and my own view. But as a white male critic trying to carve out his place in the scene, I’m a part of the system whether I like it or not. It seems only fair to crack open my books and lay out the behind-the-scenes machinations of what I do. If I can contribute any kernel of knowledge that helps push us forward, fantastic. If I can’t, then I figure I’m only out a couple of afternoons spent writing this piece. Seems like a small price to pay.
1. The How and the Why
For the sake of context, I’ll try to quickly recap my own journey to writing about Boston theatre.
Post-college, the idea of criticism had always been lurking around in the back of my head. I love watching theater and as anyone who has accompanied me to a production can attest, I’ve never exactly been lacking in opinions post-show, (vented usually in a blinding rage during in the car ride home). But there didn’t appear to be a way into the field. If media sources were looking for critics, they weren’t posting anywhere I could see. I instead focused on other kinds of creative work, starting a fringe theater company with a college friend (Exiled Theatre) and writing/directing shows for the company.
Anyone who has worked in the Boston fringe theater scene can tell you that it’s always a battle to try and get critics to attend your performances, never mind the added challenge of getting a critic to attend and then write about it. I don’t want to overgeneralize, because there are a few review sites that do manage to cover fringe companies as well as a few critics that made the effort to catch smaller shows as well as the big ones, (Beverly Creasey, former critic and head of the IRNE awards comes to mind), but on the whole it was/is a major hurdle. My own theater company was no different, often considering ourselves impossibly lucky if we managed get one or two reviews during the run of the show.
Then, a few years ago, I went to go see a show produced/directed by a friend of a friend. It was the kind of small show that I knew well, performed in a backroom ill-suited to theatre, clearly put together for pennies, with the set held together by paperclips and string. This thing had “labor of love” written all over it and was clearly being run by people who believed in it, doing their absolute damndest to keep it afloat.
And it was absolutely awful. Truly and deeply. The experience of sitting and watching this thing over the two-hour run time was akin to having your teeth drilled, (in order to protect the innocent, I don’t want to go into how/why, just go with me when I say it was terrible). However, despite the negative overall experience, I couldn’t deny that there were moments within it that had hooked me. Scattered throughout the production were a handful of creative choices that made me shoot up in my seat and go “Oh!…That’s really interesting.” Small moments, ones where the director had managed to set up the blocking or used sound and color in ways that felt fresh, certainly like nothing I was seeing elsewhere. The ideas were there. They might be hidden, they might be few and far between, but they were there, nestled within the larger beast.
When I left that performance, one thought kept playing back on a loop: “No one is writing about this…and they should be.” The show I had just seen was hot garbage, (that wasn’t in question), but the signs were there that a future one might actually be quite wonderful. And if someone were writing about them in a way that pointed to why audiences should care and picking up the conversation that the piece was trying to start, it might manage to help get the creators to that next work as well putting the company on a general audience’s radar.
That brings us to the fall of 2017 when, deciding to be the change I wanted to see in the world, I opened up a new Squarespace account and started BostonStageNotes.com (then titled RabbitReviewsBoston.com, the name was changed to its current title in 2019, more info on that here). First on my docket were three shows that I paid to see and highly enjoyed, Underlings’ Theatre’s Ada, Soon, Maiden Phoenix’s Or, and Theatre on Fire’s The Aliens, (rather depressingly, I now realize that all three companies have folded.). With the blessing of the creative teams, I reviewed and praised each. From there, I was open for business and every review I have written since then has appeared on this site.
Careful readers might know, however, that this site is not the only place my reviews have appeared. Shortly after starting the site, a mutual acquaintance put me in touch with Mike Hoban, who manages TheaterMirror.net (a review blog originally started by the critic Larry Stark). Mike was looking for writers to help the blog cover as many shows as possible and offered to include me on his roster of critics. I have been a part of the team there ever since, usually covering at least a couple of shows in a given month. Then, in the summer of 2019, the editor of Edge Media Network reached out to me via the ‘Contact Me’ link on my website to ask if I wanted to write for Edge. It seemed like an opportunity to reach a wider audience and I now usually contribute one or two reviews per month to that site (or, at least I did pre-pandemic). Both sites have been fantastic homes for me, basically allowing me to attack the job how I thought best with little interference.
Anyway, that’s the origin story, now let’s look at how it works on day-to-day basis (in normal non-pandemic times, that is).
2. How I operate; AKA the first part of how the donuts get made
I receive invitations to press performances of plays via one of three ways.
The first is via press releases emailed to me directly from theater creatives and/or their company’s marketing director. Given that I’ve been at this for a few years, I’ve slowly managed to work my way on the mass email list for a number of different companies in the greater Boston area. Depending on my schedule and if I really want to see/review the show (more on that in a second), I might secure a press invite this way with a simple direct response.
The second is via the ‘Contact Me’ page on BostonStageNotes. When I started the site, it was important to me that my services be easily accessible to smaller and/or less experienced theatre companies who might be in the dark as to how/who to invite in order to get press coverage. This does happen on occasion and when it does, I usually try to make extra effort to see the show, schedule permitting.
The final way is the most common, press invitations that come as a result of being on the TheaterMirror/Edge Media review teams. Because those sites have been around much longer and are better known than my own, they tend to get press invites from everyone. The small companies as well as the majors. At the start of each month, the editor will send a list to the entire team of all the upcoming shows they’ve received press releases for and say “Who wants what?” “Assignments” are then doled out based on which shows each reviewer wants to cover and on a first-come, first-serve basis. If there’s a lot of interest in a particular show TheaterMirror will sometimes let two people cover the same show to get it additional coverage.
How do I pick which shows to cover in a given month? There’s a mix of different factors. The first hurdle a show has to jump is whether or not I’m free that weekend. At the time the theaters closed I had gotten to the point where I was usually seeing/reviewing at least one show a week (sometimes two and during occasional fits of madness, three). But just like anyone else, I have a life outside of the arts full of vacations, family events, a day job, personal responsibilities, other interests, etc., etc. that can keep me from going to the theater on any given weekend. Sometimes you just have to say no. A company may also try and invite me at an inopportune time. For instance, I’ve had companies try to invite me three days before the press performance and on a weekend where I’m already booked to see two shows. In such cases I have to say, “Sorry, but I can’t.” I usually try to attend on the official press night, but sometimes, (again, depending on availability), I’ll see a show mid-run.
Aside from that, most of my choices as to what to review comes down to my interests which, admittedly is where personal bias comes in. Is the company one of those smaller organizations that I like to support? Is the playwright one that I like/dislike? What about the rest of the creative team? Does the show synopsis sound interesting? Is it a new work? (I like seeing new plays). Does this theatre company “need” me to review it or is it a company that’s likely to get reviewed by the major outlets (i.e. The Boston Globe, WBUR, etc)? Did this company contact me directly to come see their work? All of these factors and more run through my mind when I put together my schedule for the month. Is it necessarily fair? God, no. But I try to do my best to try and strike a balance between all of the different types of offerings out there and what gets tossed into my line of sight.
Once I’ve seen a show, the process of writing the review probably the same as any other critic except that I’ll usually take a bit longer to get it done. Most theatre critics in the area will get a review out within 24 hours of having seen the show, but that’s usually not something that my schedule allows. It’s also not how I like to work. I like to take a day to process what I’ve seen then spend a night or two crafting a response, generally trying to ensure that the review is published/posted within three days at most.
To date, I have writing a grand total of 101 reviews, all between Sept 2017 and March 2020.
3. The Business End of Things; AKA the cost of those donuts
There’s one fact about my career as a critic that I want to lay out before we continue: As of the writing of this piece, I have yet to earn a single cent from any of the reviews I have written.
I’m not giving up that piece of information in an effort to call anyone out, shame anyone or to ask you to pity me. I swear. Everything that I’ve done thus far as a critic has been because I loved doing it and I’m looking forward to jumping back in once the theaters open up. But based on anecdotal evidence, I don’t think my situation is all that unusual (few, if any, outlets pay for regular criticism), nor does it appear likely to change in the near future. And if that’s the case then I have to wonder what the bigger implications for the art form are.
I think that if we’re serious about wanting to cultivate a rich and diverse critical landscape within Boston, one of the elements that needs to be addressed is not only how we create/attract new critics, but how the scene supports them over the long term. The job of criticism is a skill like any other; it takes time, practice and work just to get competent at it, never mind good. It’s really only now, several years after starting to write that I feel I have any sort of handle on the form. Whether or not I’m any “good” at it is for other people to decide, but I definitely think my approach has evolved. I cringe when I look back at the first few reviews I posted, seeing the glaring lines where I glossed over important points or didn’t further investigate my feelings about a work. And the only reason I can now see those points (and hopefully try to fix them when I restart regularly writing), is because I’ve been given the gift of time.
Again, I’m not laying this down as a call-out. As a blog, TheaterMirror isn’t set up to generate any kind of revenue to allow contributors to be paid. And I want to stress that I’m not bringing this up as part of a pity-plea for someone to give me money, (although, hey, God knows I’m not above taking money if anyone out there is hiring/interested. I assure you, I can be bought), but I think that the concept of money, or at least compensation, needs to be brought into the conversation because at the end of the day, writing reviews is work. It’s work that I find fulfilling and that I have fun doing, but it’s work nonetheless. And what does it say when this element of the theater scene, one that most will cite as of high importance, relies on the work being done for free?
The short answer, I’d argue, is that this ecosystem ensures that only certain kinds/types of voices are able to come to the table. During my time as a critic I’ve seen a number of individuals (young and diverse) try to dip their toe in the water, only to run off when they realize that the cost of time and energy is too high. In my own life situation, I thankfully have a day job that’s afforded me the privilege to work as I have (I just realized that I just referred to a voluntary work load as a privilege…yikes.). Consider that choosing to review a show means that I’m giving up two nights of my week (one to see the show, at least one to write the review). Right now, I’m able to make that choice, but what about someone with different life circumstances? And even with all of my privileges, that question is still looming in the background: ‘How long can I keep this up?’ If there’s no substantial support over the long-term, forcing me to make sacrifices all in the name of the work, then eventually the cost is just going to be too high.
For a slightly longer answer I’d also argue that treating criticism as an extracurricular hurts the theater companies we’re supposed to be covering. If a critic can only carve out a small amount of time to see shows, then very few shows (and few kinds of shows) are going to see coverage. It would be impossible for any one person to see all of the shows that are put on, (in a normal year Boston might see more than 200 productions mounted counting everything from fringe to touring companies), and no one hoping to hold onto their sanity should try it. At the same time, if a critic is only going to see/review one show every other month, then they’re really not doing the job in part because they can’t speak to the community as a whole. They can’t comment on how different creatives flourish/flounder when working on different types of material at different companies.
4. And your point is?...
I keep going back and forth about whether or not this is piece is actually worth posting. If you’re reading it now, I guess that shows where I landed. Part of my trepidation, I’m sure, comes from the fact that many local artists and possibly even critics for other art forms (like film reviewing) could look at this piece and say “What’s the big deal? We work for free too.”
I think that I’m bringing it up because it points to the question of what kind of artistic landscape we want to return to if/when our theaters open back up. I frequently hear members of the theater community say that they want Boston to be seen as a theater destination, a city where individuals can come and have a fulfilling career in the arts. And I truly believe that becoming that kind of destination means having a well-developed, supported and diverse critical community that can both talk back to and with the work that is happening on stage.
My general impression (based on anecdotal evidence) is that too many companies in the Boston theater scene view critics as little more than an extension of the marketing department, (a role that certain critics seem all too willing to take on). A theater company puts on a show and the critic comes in to talk about how wonderful everyone involved is and how the audience needs to get out and come see the show. It’s a kind of pep-rally cheerleader mentality that represents only a fraction of what criticism can be. Yes, part of the job is encouraging audience to take a chance on a show you believe in, (I’ve written more than my fair share of these and as I’ve pointed out above, it’s part of why I got in the game), but another part is to push back when you feel that a show isn’t up to snuff. The discussion of how and why a production does/does not “work” is one of the ways to extend the conversation the show is trying to generate.
The plain and simple truth is that we’re a poorer for not having a critical community that comes from a diverse landscape. The goal of criticism isn’t to tell an audience what to think (yay or nay), but to stimulate their individual minds, allowing them to go deeper into the work than they might have on their own. It’s limiting (and I’d argue, unhealthy) to only be listening to one kind of voice. One of my favorite reviews in recent memory came from Linda Chin of TheaterMirror who was able to write very passionately about how Merrimack Repertory Theatre’s production of Cambodian Rock Band affected her as Asian-American theatergoer. Listening to these perspectives allow us to expand how we think about the work in front of us. But beyond that, critics should also be providing argument and debate. I personally find it frustrating when a show opens and it feels like everyone is falling into line with their response. I mean, come on. Wouldn’t you love for someone to give you a valid artistic reason to hate a Huntington production everyone else gushed over? Wouldn’t it make you want to go see it for yourself and form your own opinion?
So what do we do about all of this? Where has this all of this grumbling of mine lead us? Well…I don’t really know, but I’m all ears if anyone wants to throw out their thoughts/ideas. I didn’t lay all of this out as a checklist to “fix” the issue, but start the conversation. Let’s have at it. God knows we have nothing but time right now. I normally disable the Comments function of the blog posts, (stories of internet trolls just made the whole thing seem more trouble than it was worth), but I’ll make an exception here. Want to add something to the conversation? Want to give your own perspective? Want to offer a solution? Want to tell me I’m full of it? The floor is yours.
