Authors: Matt Windman
The good thing about writing for a publication like the
Westchester Guardian
is that I can write about whatever I want. I also have a blog called
Uncensored John Simon
. I write a new blog post every two or three weeks. I can write about anything I please. In my opinion, I’m doing some of the best writing I’ve ever done in that niche. But unfortunately, very few people are even aware of it. I also do freelance work here and there—in fact, as much as I can. I write quite a bit for the
Weekly Standard
. I also write for the
New Criterion
and the
New York Times Book Review
. Every once in a while, something else comes along, but not too often, I must say.
Leonard Jacobs:
I blame what happened at
Backstage
on the colossal, shocking ineptitude of its owners. I was with the paper for 10 years. I was hired as an associate editor, and I later became the national editor for theater. In 2006, the publisher was given a mandate by the owners to extract a couple more million dollars in gross revenue out of the business. It wasn’t really clear how they were going to do. I was part of a small working group that came up with a business plan that involved reorganizing, rebranding, rethinking, and ultimately relaunching.
However, the powers-that-be did two things. For one, they never foresaw the Great Recession or the changes in the media that were starting to happen before the Great Recession and were then exacerbated by it. Second, six months after they put money into the business, they wanted it back. They couldn’t extract their investment in just a couple of months. It takes more time than that, particularly in publishing, which has small margins to begin with.
In 2006, they started cutting from the bottom of the masthead. They got rid of excess people and excess jobs. When I was promoted to national theater editor, I had a very healthy five-figure budget for my writers in New York, L.A., and regionally. Over a period of about a year and a half, all of that went away. Eventually, they started cutting from the top of the masthead, which was when I was downsized. I knew it was coming. I was just waiting for it to happen. At this point, nobody is left at
Backstage
from my time there. There was a national editor-in-chief—she was let go. There was a managing editor on the East Coast—he was let go. There was a managing editor on the West Coast—she was let go.
A book of mine, which was a celebration of the collection at the Billy Rose Theatre Division of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, came out about two weeks after I left
Backstage
. I spent some time promoting the book. I was also still writing reviews for the
New York Press
and freelancing, so it wasn’t so terrible. Around that time, I was introduced to the idea of blogging. I wasn’t desperate for another platform, but I created a blog called the
Clyde Fitch Report
, which reflected my longtime interest in this late-nineteenth/early-twentieth-century American playwright. I slowly figured out that I could use the blog to write about arts funding, the economic impact of the arts, unions and management, and similar topics. I was encouraged by a colleague to try and make money from the blog. He came up with a five-year plan to go from making no money, to making a little money off of it, to finally making a respectable living.
I only got about two and a half years into that plan. I made about $15,000 or $20,000 off the blog. People would call me up and say, “I want to advertise on your site,” and I didn’t know what to charge them. I’m a content guy—not an advertising guy. I also did a lot of freelance work that had nothing to do with theater.
Crain’s
did an article on me, so it was kind of an exciting time. But there comes to a point where papa needs new shoes, you know? In 2010, I noticed a job listing for a director position at the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs. I had never worked in government before. Heather Hitchens, who I had become friendly with (and who is now the executive director of the American Theatre Wing), encouraged me to apply, and I got the job.
Michael Musto:
I was really surprised by what happened at the
Village Voice
. The paper was dwindling. It was turning into a very slow operation without the ability to pay real, full salaries. But on the other hand, everyone kept telling me how I was an institution, and that without me, the
Voice
wouldn’t be much of anything. Maybe what’s happened since then has proven that to be true. I was extremely dedicated to the
Voice
. I gave it my heart and soul for all those years. When the rumor got out that I was being laid off, Aaron Hicklin, who’s the editor of
Out
, reached out to me and said, “If it does happen, I would like you to come aboard.” I had written for
Out
in the past, so I was delighted at the opportunity. Everything I write has an LGBT text to it (not just a subtext), so it made perfect sense. I’m now pretty much romping around, just as I did with my
Voice
column. There’s not much difference. I’m exploring different topics and covering a lot of Broadway and Off-Broadway shows.
Michael Sommers:
I took a buyout from the
Star-Ledger
. At that point, the Newhouse chain had disbanded its syndicate. They closed their Washington bureau, which was where all the national stuff went through. At the same time, the people at the
Star-Ledger
said, “We’re going to have to let a certain number of employees go, and we’re offering the following terms.” I could see the writing on the wall. The arts writers were going to be the first to go. They said something to me along the lines of, “Maybe you can cover the crime beat in Newark,” and I wasn’t about to do that. So I walked the plank and took the buyout. I was one of the first staffers to go. A lot of other people who stayed were sorry because the terms that were offered later on were not nearly as good as what I got. Even now, the
Ledger
still might not make it. They sold their main building. They’re down to a skeletal staff, which is apparently getting paid bupkis.
The
New York Times
contacted me four years ago and asked if I would write reviews of New Jersey productions, which was very flattering. I’m also writing for the website
New Jersey Newsroom
. I’m still seeing shows from the best seats. I’m not making as much money as I used to, but I love doing this. Sometimes I do wish I had become an expert in another field. Maybe I’d still have a steady job if I stayed a sports writer. But the way I see it, you only get so many dreams in life. And for me, one of those dreams was to live in New York, see all the shows, and make a living as a writer.
MATT WINDMAN
: If there are fewer professional theater critics going forward, will that have an effect on the theater itself, or might it make no difference at all?
Peter Marks:
I would argue yes. There has to be a watchdog—a conscience to make sure that what’s being produced isn’t appealing only to the lowest-common-denominator, and to make sure some other work gets through.
Zachary Stewart:
It will be harder for the casual theatergoer to hear about shows and put them in context.
John Simon:
If there weren’t critics, people would have to depend on advertising. And advertising, by definition, almost always lies, and that could make a difference. But who knows what would happen if there was nothing but publicity that was mendaciously favorable and not critical? If everything was written by advertisers and not reviewers, it would make a difference, but I don’t know what that difference would be. First of all, people might suspect that kind of thing of being too good to be true. Second of all, if people fell for it and believed all the good publicity, and then they went and were burned, they would probably get pretty sour and bitter and stop going to the theater.
Terry Teachout:
It depends on how good you think criticism is for the theater. I suppose that if it’s a choice between really bad criticism and no criticism at all, none is the better choice. But in general, having reasonably good criticism is good for the theater. Most of the well-known critics who have covered theater in the last three-quarters of a century were people who specialized in it, spent a lot of time thinking about it, and in a few cases had professional experience in the theater. That kind of professional commentary is valuable.
If you have no one offering independent, expert commentary on the theater, then theater companies are inevitably going to enter a kind of drift where the only thing that influences their activities is the box office. There’d be no voice in play other than how many tickets are being sold. If you’re a serious artist, you have priorities other than selling the largest number of tickets possible. Good arts journalism can help educate the public. In the absence of that kind of educating influence, all of the arts are going to drift more in the direction of the box office. I’m not saying the public is always wrong, but it’s important to have other voices in the mix.
Ben Brantley:
I guess the theater could go back to playing immediately to the people. Like in
Mr. Burns, a Post-Electric Play
, maybe we’ll fall into a neo–Dark Ages in which it’s all thrown together from memory and put on for the people to look at and approve or not. Good art finds its own way, and maybe not during the creator’s lifetime…. I don’t think criticism is an initiator. It doesn’t pose questions. It answers them. Of course, there have been some activist critics over the years, like Kenneth Tynan. I don’t think Shaw really changed anything as a critic. He had to become a playwright to do that. In film, there may have been a few critics who actually made an immediate difference, like Pauline Kael and maybe Andrew Sarris.
John Lahr:
The demise of criticism will affect the theater because people need to be guided and opened up. Criticism is a minor art form. But when it is an art form, it gives people a different lens through which to view the theater. They can shed light on it. It’s the light against the darkness that matters. You could say that critics are in the illumination business. If you can illuminate something in the theater, it makes it more fun and desirable.
Rob Weinert-Kendt:
Critics are often holding institutions’ feet to the fire to do more new work—even though when the theaters actually do produce new work, the critics’ verdicts are often mixed. That’s a constant drumbeat: Where are the new plays? Where is the new voice? I think that’s one area where critics have a real value. They’re going to review new work honestly, but they are continually looking for the new, the fresh. That’s why they go to the theater. They don’t want to see the same old thing. And they can make and support little discoveries. I think that critics have a role in keeping the industry—I hate to say honest—but in reminding them of what they’re doing it for: to support living writers and living artists.
David Sheward:
There will more and more lowest-common-denominator shows. It will be more and more difficult to get challenging shows done. They’ll get done, but there won’t be voices to champion them and get people in to see them.
Howard Shapiro:
Whether it’s good or bad, criticism gives a kind of publicity to a show that people pay attention to. People need to be reminded that there’s a show to see.
Gordon Cox:
One could argue that plays have become less adventurous because critics have less weight with audiences and, therefore, have less opportunity to argue in favor of a project that is not as immediately appealing as a big, splashy musical. Fewer people take the time to pay attention to the critics that might steer them toward something that is more adventurous or boundary-pushing. One of the reasons that a play will try to get a big star is to get people to come and buy tickets and kind of critic-proof a production. The revival of Harold Pinter’s
Betrayal
with Daniel Craig was not particularly well-reviewed, but that didn’t matter. Lots of people went to go see Daniel Craig. That is, in part, a response to the power of critics.
Ronni Reich:
A lack of theater criticism is a major issue in New Jersey. I regularly get emails from theater companies saying, “No one’s reviewing us.” I am one of few critics in the state working for a mainstream, large publication. Some theaters are now using volunteer bloggers, who are the only other voices out there, and what they write ends up in emails that the theater sends out to its customer base.
MATT WINDMAN
: Is it disconcerting that so many theater critics are now writing without getting paid for their work?
Hilton Als:
I wrote without pay for a very long time, and I don’t think it did any harm. Writers will get there if they put their writing first, if they believe that their writing is important, and if they have a voice. You should never feel that it’s an unpaid position. You’re being paid by learning.
Andy Propst:
Writing for free is disconcerting. But at the same time, it’s a survival tactic. I’ll point to myself. I have grown to love the process of reviewing. And at this juncture, in absence of a forum that is paying me, I have a well-established platform at
American Theater Web
where I can self-publish. I don’t know what that means for me in the future. I’ve lucked out with my newest professional gig, and that could be what keeps a roof over my head while I do criticism on the side.
There is a value to anyone’s writing, and we have entered an era in which writing and the dissemination of information can be done for free. I’m not by any means diminishing the thoughtful work that may go into a post on
All That Chat
, or one by a very good blogger, but there is something to be said about someone who is in the trenches, being edited, and being vetted. That process requires some kind of compensation.
There are actors who are willing to work for free or a small stipend. This is what they want to do for a living, and they hope that they will reach a point where they can move to increasingly high-paying jobs. Just because you can put something up online, why should that shut the door on ever being able to earn a living at it?