you’re seeing and what you’re reacting to.
MATT WINDMAN : What kind of personality or attitude should a theater critic ideally have?
John Simon: I don’t think there is a one-on-one relationship between what you are in life and what you are on the page. I wouldn’t be surprised if a very mild-mannered person was a very fierce critic, or if a very violent person was a weak critic.
Steven Suskin: Whether you’re quiet and calm, or enthusiastic and excited, doesn’t matter. If you can write well, you can be a good critic.
John Lahr: A critic should be a feeling individual. Feeling is as important as thinking. That’s where a lot of the stumbling blocks are in present criticism. I’m not sure people can parse their feelings well. Therefore, certain kinds of plays are misunderstood depending on the psychological nature of the critic. The more humanity you have, the more humanity you feel. The more limited you are psychologically, the less you can see in certain plays. It’s about both intellectual and emotional sophistication.
Terry Teachout: You need to have the right attitude in order to be a good critic. There has to be a fundamental generosity and excitement. You have to want to communicate enthusiasm. You can’t be there just to pick out flaws. I’m not sure you can breed that out of someone whose idea of a critic was shaped by the movie All About Eve .
Michael Dale: I don’t think I’ve ever met a critic who doesn’t adore going to the theater, and who doesn’t take a seat sincerely prepared to possibly see the best show ever. I think that’s the ideal attitude to have.
Michael Sommers: I’ve always been a glass-half-full sort of writer. To quote from the musical Spamalot , I “always look on the bright side of life.” I rarely get offended. The last thing that offended me in years was Intimacy , that terrible Off-Broadway play at the New Group by Thomas Bradshaw. The whole thing was just so foul. Still, I did wonder how they made that ejaculation scene work. Even with the worst shows, you can always find something to be interested in.
Jeremy Gerard: I consider myself a tough critic, but not a nasty critic. I don’t see shows that I don’t like as crimes against art, as some other critics do. They’re just shows I don’t happen to like. For me, no production is a life or death issue. I think of myself as fair, and that’s reflected in my ability to cover the industry in the way I do, and in continuing to write reviews that people pay fairly well for.
Zachary Stewart: A critic should be intellectually curious, constantly trying to learn more about the world beyond his limited corner.
Alexis Soloski: You need an open heart. I don’t think you’re doing anyone any favors if you go in without one. You need to be able to experience a show emotionally—to be disturbed by it, and confused by it, and delighted by it—and then be able to step back and evaluate that experience analytically.
Chris Jones: You have to keep an open mind. Whatever history you may have with an artist, sometimes they can surprise you. They do great work when you don’t expect it. Or, they do terrible work when you expect greatness, and you have to be able to see that. You have to float above relationships and alliances, and be able to see a show for what it is on a given night. Artists change constantly. Theater changes constantly.
David Cote: You have to be wise and naïve at the same time—wise in the sense of being an educated audience member and bringing all your years of reading and viewing to the table, and naïve in the sense of never being jaded and being open to new forms and experiences. If you grow cynical and tradition-bound, your writing may not suffer (some critics have made a career out of being aesthetic dinosaurs), but your thinking will rot.
Michael Musto: Ideally, a critic should be able to separate his or her own life crises and challenges from what he or she is reviewing. When they enter the
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