The first admonition in theatrical reporting is "Don't resumé the plot or tell the story of the play." This is almost all that many dramatic reporters try to do, because it is the easiest thing to do and requires the least thought. But, after all, it is usually valueless. The story of the play does not interest readers who have already seen the play and it spoils the enjoyment of the play for those who intend to see it. The usual purpose of any theatrical report is to criticize, but a report that simply resumés the story of the play is not a criticism; hence space devoted to the story is usually wasted. To be sure, this admonition must be qualified. If the development of the critic's judgment of the play requires a resumé of the story, there is then a reason for outlining the action. However, even then, the outline should be very brief.
The following is a typical example of the usual dramatic reporting which is satisfied when it has told the story of the play. In this, the first two sentences are a very bald attempt to repay the manager for his tickets. The resumé of the story, given very obviously to fill space, is not of any critical value. The only real criticism is at the end and is inadequate because the praise is given without reason.
Grace George and her small but excellent company of artists added one more to their long list of successful performances last night in the production of Geraldine Bonner's clever comedy of modern life, "Sauce for the Goose," at the —— Theatre. That the moody and sparkling Miss George has a good claim to the title of America's leading comedienne, no one who saw the performance last evening could deny. In this piece she is cast for the part of Kitty Constable, who is in the third year of her married life and living with her husband in New York City. Mr. Constable has been engaged in writing a book on the emancipation of woman and as a result has come to neglect his pretty little wife and seek the companionship of a certain woman of great intellect, Mrs. Alloway, who leads him on by an affected sympathy with his work. He chides his wife for her seeming negligence of the culture of her mind, telling her that she lacks grey matter. The climax comes when Mr. Constable tries to get away from his wife on the evening of their wedding anniversary to dine with Mrs. Alloway. Kitty tries the emancipated woman idea and goes to the opera with another man and has dinner with him in his apartments. She lets her husband know of her plans and he comes to the room in a rage. By thus playing first on his jealousy and then by ridiculing his ideas, she wins him back to herself. The company was made up of artists and there was not a crude spot in the whole performance. The part of Harry Travers, the friend of Mrs. Constable's, was excellently done by Frederick Perry, as was that of Mr. Constable by Herbert Percy. Probably the most difficult character in the play to portray was that of the "woman's rights" woman, Mrs. Alloway, which was most admirably done by Edith Wakeman.
The word criticism must not lead the reporter to think that, as a critic, his only function is to find fault. To criticize may mean to praise as well as to condemn. If the critic is not restricted by the policy of his paper, he should be as willing to praise as to condemn, and vice versa. But whichever course he takes he must be ready to defend his criticism and to tell why he praises or why he condemns. There is always a tendency to praise a play in return for the free tickets; this should be put aside absolutely. The critic owes something to the public as well as to the manager. If the play seems to him to be bad, he must say so without hesitation and he must tell why it is bad. Too many really bad plays are immensely advertised by a critic's undefended statement that they are not fit to be seen. Had the critic given definite reasons for his condemnation, his criticism might have accomplished its purpose. In the same way it is useless to say simply that a play is good. Its good points must be enumerated and the reader must be told why it is good.
However, criticism must be written with delicacy. If your heart tells you to praise, praise; if your heart tells you to condemn, condemn with care. Remember that your condemnation may put the play off the boards or at least hurt its success, and there must be sufficient reason for such radical action. The critic's debt to the public is large, but he owes some consideration to the manager. He must hesitate before he says anything that may ruin the manager's business. Critics very often condemn a play for trivial reasons; they feel indisposed, perhaps because their dinner has not agreed with them, the play does not fit into their mood and they turn in a half column of ruinous condemnation. Perhaps they like a certain kind of production—farces, for instance—and systematically vent their ire on every tragedy and every musical comedy. They do not use perspective; they do not judge the stage as a whole. No matter how poor a play is or how much a critic dislikes it, he must consider what the stage people are trying to do and judge accordingly. In many cases it is not the individual play that deserves adverse criticism, but the kind of play. All of these things must be considered; every dramatic critic must have perspective. He must be fair to the stage people and to the public; his influence is greater than he may imagine.
No matter how strong the occasion for condemnation may be, the dramatic critic is never justified in speaking bitterly. The poor production is not a personal offense against him nor against the public. It is simply a bad or an unworthy attempt and his duty is confined to pointing how or why it is not worthy. That does not mean that he is justified in using bitter, abusive, or even sarcastic language. It is great sport to make fun of things and to exercise one's wits at some one's else expense—it is also easy—but that is not dramatic criticism. The public asks the critic to tell them calmly and fairly, even coldly, the reasons for or against a production—the reasons why they should, or should not, spend their money to see it—bitter sarcasm overreaches the mark. Just as soon as a critic tries to be personal in his remarks on a play he is exceeding his prerogative and is open to serious criticism himself.
The necessary attributes of a dramatic reporter, as we have seen, are: fairness, logical thinking, and a background of stage knowledge. And of these three, the background is of the greatest importance; it is the stimulus and the check for the other two. The more a critic can know about every phase of the theatrical profession, contemporary or historical, the better will be his criticisms. The more knowledge of the stage that his copy shows, the more greedily will his readers look for his "Theatrical News" each day. However clear his idea of a play may be he cannot express it clearly and readably without a background of other plays to refer to. And, by the same sign, a wealth of allusions and a quantity of theatrical lore will often carry a critic past many a play concerning which he is unable to form a clear opinion. To develop your ability as a dramatic reporter, watch the theatrical criticisms in reputable dailies and weeklies and learn from them.