People of Theatre

I remember clearly how, during my MA in Journalism at City University London, my tutor would always push for more negative and skeptical commentary in my art reviews. She once told me, “The more critical you are, the more credible you’ll seem.” For her, “critical” was synonymous with judging and discrediting, and it seemed like the more I tore something down, the more she approved. But honestly, I never fully understood this. I’ve always found those cold, judgmental reviews not just uninspiring but downright arrogant. They seem to focus more on the critic’s ego than on the art itself, and that’s never sat right with me. My passion has always been for the artists, not the critics who try to outshine the work they’re supposedly “reviewing”.

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This disconnect is one of the biggest reasons I started my own platform, People of Theatre. I was hungry for content that really delved into the artistic practices behind the incredible shows I was watching, not just dish out ratings or empty judgments. But I also realised that my way of thinking and talking about theatre didn’t fit the traditional critical structures I was taught to respect. Even in my professional media career, editors seemed to value negative commentary over meaningful exploration. They wanted biting critiques; I wanted to dig deep and think broadly.

This whole idea of critics having some kind of objective power over art? It's rooted in some pretty problematic stuff. Historically, art criticism has been dominated by a certain type of intellectual – often elite white men pushing a very specific worldview. They claimed to be objective, but feminist critics since the '70s have been calling out how that "neutrality" just perpetuated a patriarchal view of art history.

Think about it – how many times have we seen critics dismiss shows that speak to working-class experiences as "too niche" or "lacking universal appeal"? Or how about when they praise a play for its "bold exploration of gender" when it's really just reinforcing tired stereotypes? It's not always malicious, but it's a huge blind spot.

And let's talk about language. The vocabulary of "high art" criticism can be incredibly exclusionary. When critics throw around academic jargon or obscure references, they're not just analyzing the play – they're signaling, "This conversation isn't for everyone." It's a subtle way of saying that only certain voices (usually privileged ones) get to participate in the dialogue around art.

Here's the thing: I'm not objective, and I don't pretend to be. That whole concept of objectivity has often been used to mask biases including racist, homophobic, misogynist, heteropatriarchal, transphobic, elitarian views and push diverse voices to the margins. Instead, I embrace what's called "critical generosity." It's about looking at theatre and dance through many lenses, understanding that there are tons of ways to see and experience the world.

My motto is “theatre is people,” meaning that there are as many ways to view theatre as there are countless unique identities of the people making it. That’s where the beauty of theatre lies.

You know, the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes how traditional theatre criticism has often been a tool for maintaining existing power structures. It's not just about personal taste – it's about who gets to decide what's "good" art and why. That’s why as a gay man who grew up in a small town in southern Italy in a working-class family, I always felt that the critical frameworks I was taught didn’t resonate with me.

This ties into a bigger issue: whose stories get told on stage, and how they're received. When a play centers on Black cultures and identities, LGBTQ+ characters, characters with disabilities, or immigrants, it's often labeled as "identity theatre" – as if straight, white, able-bodied, native-born stories aren't also about identity. This framing suggests that some experiences are universal, while others are niche or political. It's just that we're so used to certain perspectives (usually those of the dominant culture) that we don't even notice them as viewpoints.

The real kicker is how this cycle perpetuates itself. When marginalized voices don't see themselves represented in criticism, they might be less likely to pursue it as a career. So the field stays homogeneous, and the same perspectives keep getting recycled. Some might argue that things are changing. That might be true, but I'm not convinced. Just think about the Edinburgh Fringe and the unhealthy star ratings and review culture—it’s nonsensical.

You might think that simply changing who’s doing the reviews would be enough. Some performative changes we’ve seen in publications involve bringing in critics from marginalized backgrounds. I do love that, but I’m not so sure it’s actually enough. Haven’t we all, to some extent, internalized the oppressive ways the dominant culture judges the marginalized? Even those of us from marginalized groups need to intentionally dismantle those structures imposed on us and find new critical frameworks to guide us.

So you know, I've been thinking a lot about this idea of "critical generosity" lately. It's a concept that really resonates with me, especially as I've struggled with the often harsh world of theatre criticism.

I first stumbled upon it when I was researching queer theatre history, and it hit me like a lightning bolt. Here was writer David Román, writing during the AIDS crisis, talking about how we needed to look at theatre in a whole new way. He saw that the usual critical approach just wasn't cutting it when it came to understanding the power and impact of queer productions during such a devastating time.

It got me thinking about how we often judge art in a vacuum, as if it exists separate from the world around it. But Román was saying, "Hey, we need to consider how these shows are affecting real people, real communities." That felt revolutionary to me.

Then I discovered professor Jill Dolan's take on it, and it was like she was speaking directly to all my frustrations with modern criticism. She wasn't advocating for some sort of mindless cheerleading – God knows we've all read those fluffy, substanceless reviews. No, she was proposing something much more nuanced and, honestly, much harder to do.

Dolan's idea of critical generosity is about engaging deeply with the work, really trying to understand what it's doing and why. It's about being open to being moved or changed by a performance, rather than just showing up with your checklist of what makes "good theatre."

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But you know what? I've realized it goes even further than that. It's about genuinely caring to know the artists and their creative voices. You can't truly understand a work by just watching one show and making a snap judgment. That's why I've started having conversations with artists I admire.

You know, I've made a conscious choice about where I put my energy as a theatre content creator. I'm drawn to pieces that really speak to me and the communities I don’t know but I strive to understand and being an ally for. I love to hear more from artists who are shaking things up. I'm talking about artists from all over the world who are pushing back against old colonial mindsets and putting queer, trans, feminist, environmentalist, social justice ideas front and center. These aren't always the easiest shows to watch or create content about, but they're the ones that keep me coming back, the ones that challenge me to think differently. It's not just about art for me – it's about amplifying voices and ideas that I believe need to be heard.

I follow their creative journeys over time, and often, I actually get to know them as people.

I love checking in with artists regularly, getting updates on their creative process. There's something magical about visiting rehearsals or attending work-in-progress sharings. Those vulnerable moments when artists are still figuring things out – that's where you really see the heart of their work.

This approach has completely transformed my relationship with the artists I create content about. It builds trust. They know I'm coming from a place of genuine interest and generosity, not just looking to pass judgment. Don't get me wrong – I'm still honest in my reflections. But there's a depth to the conversation that you just can't get from a one-off viewing.

It takes time and effort to really know artists and their work. But I've found it's so worth it. It's made my content richer, more insightful, and honestly, more fun. I don’t like to be called a critic or a reviewer; I aspire to be part of an ongoing dialogue about theatre and creativity.

I'll be honest, adopting this approach has been challenging for me. It's easy to slip into negativity or dismissiveness, especially when something doesn't immediately resonate. But I've discovered that pushing myself to be more generous—to truly engage with a piece on its own terms—has made me a better content creator and a more engaged audience member. My goal is to inspire seasoned audience members and future ones to adopt the same open-minded approach when watching a show, encouraging them to question star ratings and publications that favor a toxic critical style.

It's not about lowering standards. If anything, it's about raising them. It's about demanding more from ourselves as 'critics' and viewers. Can we set aside our preconceptions? Can we open ourselves to new experiences? Can we champion bold, challenging work while still engaging with it honestly?

These are the questions I wrestle with in my own content, whether in interviews, show reflections, or other formats. I don't always succeed, but striving for this kind of 'critical generosity' has completely transformed how I approach theatre.

Are you ready? Follow me on Instagram, subscribe to my newsletter, and keep visiting my website for new content that celebrates theatre, the artists, and the communities they serve and speak to.

Giuliano x