We need to stop asking if a play is ‘good or bad.’ Here's how I'm trying to change that

Yet, by putting ink to paper, theatre criticism tries to lend permanence to something inherently impermanent. That’s always been part of its challenge, and part of its value. 

Written reviews remain important. Their permanence means they serve as great historical records. One of my favourite pastimes, in fact, is going through old newspaper archives, experiencing old shows vicariously through those published reviews. 

But there are many other ways to practice arts criticism beyond the written word. And if we want it to remain relevant through the 21st century, critics need to find new ways to engage with audiences.

So that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Over the past several months, I’ve met with dozens of you, Star readers, through the Star’s new Theatre Club series. 

We’ve hosted three events so far: “Primary Trust” at Crow’s Theatre, “Funny Girl” at the Shaw Festival and “Medusa” at Soulpepper. At each, I’ve led a group of no more than 30 Star readers to watch these productions, followed up by a post-show discussion over dinner. 

As a critic, it’s been an enlightening experience. Part of it is because there’s something so natural about engaging in criticism in this way.

Whereas writing a review is often a solitary endeavour, the Theatre Club, much like theatre itself, is a communal, ephemeral experience. And whereas a traditional review is a one-way monologue, the Theatre Club offers a forum for robust dialogue, discussion and debate. 

My ultimate goal with this new initiative is to change how we talk about theatre, one conversation at a time. 

These days, theatregoers are often starved of these forums for post-show discussion. In recent years, the gamification and Letterboxd-ification of arts criticism has led us down a road where brevity and superficiality are favoured over thoughtfulness and depth. 

Even the very setup of modern theatregoing culture discourages deep conversation. For one, most shows take place in the evening. And when they conclude, there’s almost always a mad rush to get home. Whatever brief conversation there is usually takes place in the span between getting from the theatre to the subway or the car — or however long it takes to power on your cellphone and become distracted by the latest missed notification. 

But beyond providing the space and time to facilitate these conversations, what I hope the Theatre Club does is change how we go about discussing and dissecting art. 

With the ever-increasing commodification of the theatre (just look at some of those ticket prices), much of what we discuss is related to a show’s worth. So often we reduce art to a thumbs-up or thumbs-down reaction. Was it good? Was it bad? Was it worth the price of admission? Would we see it again? 

But what I tell readers who participate in the Theatre Club is that we should be less concerned about whether we liked something or not. Instead, we should be focused on the “Why?” 

Nathan Cohen, the Star’s preeminent theatre critic in the 1960s, once gave this piece of advice to budding critics: “Remember that your opinions are worthless unless you provide supporting reasons. Every ignoramus has opinions and will say them gladly. Your opinions only mean something if you can explain them.”

It’s sage wisdom not just for critics but for general audiences, as well. For it’s when we begin to answer the question of “Why?” that we can truly dig into a production and its themes. And that, for me, is what makes the experience of theatre so rewarding. 

I’ve learned a lot so far through the Theatre Club. The conversation and debate, I find, only enrich what I took away from each show. 

I think New York Times chief theatre critic Helen Shaw puts it best. On a recent episode of “Cannonball with Wesley Morris,” she said that in the theatre, the show doesn’t really end until the conversation stops.

So whether you’re able to join the Theatre Club or not, my hope is that the next time you see a show, you treat the curtain call not as an ending, but as the beginning of the conversation.