Why Critics Are No Longer Kings

Happy Friday 👋🏼 Last week, four longtime critics at The New York Times—including Jesse Green, the lead theater critic—were reassigned to “new roles.” The internal memo was cordial, full of praise. But beneath the surface, it read like something else entirely: a pivot. A signal. A quiet acknowledgment that the culture has moved, and the institutions that cover it are trying to catch up.

Because the reality is that fewer people are turning to reviews for guidance. They’re turning to feeds, to formats, to personalities they trust. And while theater still relies on blurbs and press quotes, other industries are selling something very different.

Not just the project. The person.

So this week I want to look at what the rise of the new media circuit means for theater—and why the path to relevance, resonance, and ticket sales might start with something as simple as a piece of chicken or a ride on the subway.

Let’s get into it.

The Landscape

Theater is not casual consumption.

This isn’t a Netflix click. It’s not even a $25 movie ticket. It’s a multi-hour, multi-step, multi-hundred-dollar commitment. Someone has to hear about a show, look it up, coordinate calendars, justify the cost, and then physically show up.

And with ticket prices where they are, that calculus only gets harder. For the price of a Broadway seat, an audience member could take a friend to dinner, catch a movie, subscribe to three streaming platforms, and still have change left over.

So why do it? Why go?

Theater folks like to believe the answer is the work. The show is worth it. The themes are timely. The reviews are strong. And sure—those things help. But more and more, they’re not the final push.

There was a time when a Critics’ Pick from The New York Times could guarantee a run. When “acclaimed composer” or “relevant themes” were enough to move the needle. But last season told a different story. Real Women Have Curves tackled timely subject matter. Dead Outlaw had the pedigree. Boop! had IP. None of them lasted. And this isn’t necessarily a reflection of the work itself. It’s a reflection of the marketplace the work now lives in.

We’re not just competing with other shows. We’re competing with every other way someone could spend their time and money. And the way people make those decisions now isn’t just by reading reviews. It’s by scrolling.

And if theater wants to keep up, we might need to start meeting people where they’re at a taking a cue from the other creative industries.

The Scroll

The current Broadway promo playbook still leans heavily on legacy media. Morning shows. Local news spots. Playbill writeups. And sure, you might get a Times profile if you’re lucky. But most theater press still assumes the project is the story.

But if you look at movies or albums and the people promoting them—they’re showing up on platforms where the project itself is almost secondary—if it’s mentioned at all. What matters is the moment. The format. The tone. It’s less “Come see my new film” and more “I’m just a silly person like you.”

And it works. Because in a time where everyone is constantly selling something, audiences are hungry for the illusion of no agenda. And the stars that pull it off best understand that being known is more valuable than being seen. Their face becomes the promo. Their personality becomes the campaign.

This doesn’t mean the traditional circuit has disappeared. Stars still do Fallon and Vanity Fair. But even those institutions are adapting to the logic of the scroll. They’re designing segments for vertical video. They’re turning red carpets into meme factories. The whole system has shifted its weight toward what can be cut into 45 seconds and fed into an algorithm.

So what if, instead of forcing actors into legacy press with awkward talking points, we made space for them to show up as themselves—funny, smart, chaotic, messy, honest?

I want to see Lea Michelle (next season’s CHESS) on Las Culturistas. Brandon Uranowitz (next season’s RAGTIME) on Subway Takes. Kirstin Chenowith (next season’s THE QUEEN OF VERSAILLES) on Hot Ones.

Just a thought!!

The Move

If the attention economy is shifting from the project to the person, then theater needs to stop pretending the two are separate.

For shows, that means building campaigns, creating content, and prioritizing press that highlight humans. Not just polished promos or B-roll trailers—but material that highlights the cast, the creative team, the personalities behind the piece. Who’s hilarious? Who’s got stories? Who cries every time the overture starts? That’s the stuff that makes people care. Not instead of the work—but in service of it. Use the show to promote the people, and the people to promote the show.

For outlets, it’s time to meet the moment. What if we stopped asking “What’s it about?” and started asking “Who are you?” What if our theater coverage was designed not just for fans of theater? This industry is full of charm, chaos, intelligence, absurdity, and soul. What would it look like to showcase that? Not just in Q&As and pull quotes—but in formats that feel made for the scroll?

For artists, it means recognizing that social platforms aren’t just for promotion—they’re an extension of your practice. A place to share who you are, how you think, what lights you up. The work might bring people in, but your voice is what makes them stay. And in an industry that can often keep us waiting, platforms give us power. You don’t need permission to be known.

Feeds and screens won’t kill theater. They’re just another kind of stage. What we’re reaching for hasn’t changed: connection. To ourselves. To each other.

One Last Thing…

On Monday night, I made the call to step out of BEAU just thirty minutes before curtain. We’re in our final stretch—just over a week left—and I’ve been savoring every second. So the decision wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to miss a moment. But my body wasn’t fully with me. And I knew enough to listen.

I felt frustrated. Sad. A little ashamed. Not because I wasn’t doing the show—but because I’d internalized the idea that stepping back meant falling short.

What struck me most was how quickly I tried to justify it to myself. How eager I was to explain, rationalize, make it make sense. We do that. As artists, as humans. We spin stories to stay in control, to give shape to the unknown. We want our plans to mean something—to feel like they’re part of a larger design.

And maybe they are. But maybe things aren’t always building. Maybe sometimes, they’re just unfolding.

The work, I’m realizing, isn’t always about pushing forward. Sometimes it’s about being still. Listening. Meeting the moment exactly as it is—without asking it to be anything else.

That’s what I’m practicing. Breath by breath.

So if this week gives you a moment to pause, I hope you take it. Just long enough to feel what’s true.

See you next week ♥️