Ah, critics – a necessary evil of show business. The old joke goes, if you doubt critics are essential to the theatre, just ask one! Not all actors read reviews. But when you’re producing as well as acting – as I am with Carved in Stone (running through Aug. 9) – it’s a different story. As our late playwright Jeffrey Hartgraves would say, “Use good reviews to sell a show; use bad reviews to wrap dead fish.”
Astonishingly, nine out of ten of our reviews have been flat-out raves, giving us an embarrassing amount of “pull quotes,” and leading me to joke to the cast, “One out of ten critics has absolutely no sense of humor.” After our string of great write-ups, that one less-than-stellar notice incensed my co-producer/partner Laurence Whiting. “How can you be so lackadaisical?” he asked, as I tried to make light of it. But after over two decades, I’ve learned to keep them in perspective. I’ve been bashed as often as praised, sometimes for the same production.
One of my first roles was that of a guardian angel/narrator in an adaptation of Jim Grimsley’s novel Dream Boy at New Conservatory in San Francisco. One critic said I underplayed almost to a fault, but otherwise was physically “perfect”; another claimed my performance was excellent, but physically I was “too urbane.” Hard to believe they saw the same show on the same night!
Sometimes a critic not only likes you and the show, but totally “gets” what the production is saying. You’ll get a review that you couldn’t have written better yourself. On those rare occasions, I’ll sometimes break the “unwritten rule” and write a note of thanks to the author. Why not?
Then, there are those other reviews, the ones that sting no matter how many years pass. Most actors can quote their worst notices word-for-word. I’m no exception – and I got plenty in the early days! “Acord might be capable of more with better material, but that’s merely speculation…” “The weak link is Leon Acord.…” The worst: “Acord doesn’t listen to his fellow actors.” That one really hurt, as I pride myself in being an excellent listener.
Homophobia still rears its ugly head periodically. In The Scheme of Things, one critic opined my performance was “far afield…looks imported from the ballet version.” (Never mind that I was playing a tights-wearing medieval poet named “Harlequin.”) Another who attended the after-party of Salsa Saved the Girls seemed offended when I introduced my partner, then wrote that my “personal ‘orientation’ seems not to necessarily prefer somebody’s ex-wife.” The critics I didn’t meet, however, didn’t notice or mention I was “playing straight.”
Work long enough, and you’ll learn to shrug off the digs, and even to laugh about them. Eventually the good reviews out-number the bad. The horrid ones don’t kill you; the great ones don’t change anything either. You’re never as bad, nor as good, as they say.
Reminds me of another old joke, about opinions – but that one’s unprintable.
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