Before they hit their seats most critics have formed an opinion of the play in front them.  No different than the rest of us, they prefer certain types of plays, styles of acting, and actors over others, but unlike us, they have certain agendas that are not so apparent.  Perhaps it's that hobbyhorse of journalists and editors everywhere, the intro sentence: once they figure out how they are going to grab your attention, it may take them several paragraphs to arrive at anything of relevance to the play at hand.  Maybe it's the critical swing of the pendulum: they've either bashed or praised the last production or two and it's time to demonstrate "objectivity" - their own or the mediums.  An average play may sound like an award winner, while a good one might come off as so-so at best or a waste of your time and money at worst.  They may have friends or enemies they are choosing to promote on the one hand or settle scores with on the other.  Perhaps they're enamored with the big venues - those producing shows with "high production values," so cherished by the Helen Hayes Awards (see: "It Happens Every Spring") - where they've formed close associations.  Most people would be surprised to know that critics can and have served as judges for the HHA, a clear conflict of interest if there ever was one.  Criticism is a job some stumble into like any other and like any other they may long to escape: they burn out.  Even Frank Rich knew when to fold them and move to the op-ed page.  Even if they wanted to tell you what they truly thought about a show, the constraints of space and content - keeping editors and advertisers happy - would compromise them to some degree or other. Whatever, when you read or hear a review, whether positive or negative, be aware that there's a lot more going on than a consideration of the play at hand.   Most if not all critics are loathe to share their own likes and dislikes, and they will never discuss their implicit biases (if they're aware of them).  While this independent site does not have the constraints mentioned previously, I too have my own personal prejudices ....      

First and foremost, I like a well-made play.  Give me a plot, clearly defined conflicts, suggestive symbols, discovery and/or recognition scenes and I am a happy camper (Doubt, Art, Proof all the way back to Oedipus Rex).  I also like complex and ambitious plays that unfold on numerous levels and are chockablock with creativity and surprise (Stoppard).  Plays featuring original voices - authorial (Pinter, McDonagh, Mamet) and characters - ring my bell.   Literary scripts of every hue and stripe - written from or in a tradition - also get a nod from this critic's viewpoint. I like well-written plays, with imaginative use of language, be it original where I can experience this world for the first time, or adapted where I can see the construction in my mind's eye on its feet.

Some pleasant surprises that I've encountered this season:  I have a growing respect for supporting actors - the wisdom of directors in casting them and the resourcefulness of those actors chosen - how an eight minute performance can energize and change a show.  When a supporting actor is stealing scenes, this is a great theater experience, for the actor and audience.  There are truly no small parts.  And I find my taste has changed somewhat.  I couldn't stand Shaw when I was younger, but now, hey the guy's got a lot to say to me.  True, Shaw is wordy but he's writing about ideas and ideals that at my age I find appealing.  And he's so GD funny! 

On the flip side I have grown a little tired of the most literary of playwrights, Shakespeare.  Since I've had considerable education and exposure to The Bard, I've tried to analyze my flagging interest and, for me, it comes down to two things: language and presentation.  There's too much work to get the full meaning and I find I don't care for costume drama.  To improve the understanding of the text, I suggest the use of surtitles and translation - it's done all the time for opera and nobody seems to mind in theater when Lope de Vega and Racine are translated from the French, which seems as far removed to my ear in time as Elizabethan English.  As far as the sacredness of the text, you'll find that directors routinely employ their scissors to any work of Shakespeare or his contemporaries.  I'm completely amenable to restaging the plays to modern times and dress to inject some contemporary flavor.

I also don't respond well to straight slapstick or farce.  To work for me, it has to be combined with some other type of comedy - parody, satire, send-ups, or dark humor - or modality: language, subtext, and topicality, any and all which you would find in say, What the Butler Saw which I enjoy immensely.  I won't go out of my way for one-man or woman plays or their close cousins, those with a silent or off-stage second party.  They don't sustain dramatic tension for me for the 90 minutes or so that they typically run (Yet I can cite a number of great or excellent productions including Hughie and Barrymore, etc., which I am certainly grateful for seeing performed).

Speaking of time, I hate three hour plays, especially with 8 PM starting times.  Don't tell me about the short attention spans of modern audiences or bladder control: when you're wedged into tight seats and passively processing the rapid-fire dialogue of a lengthy play (to get it in on time) for more than an hour, it's a mental workout.  Combine it with a long day and a long drive home, it's not entertainment we're talking about, it's endurance.  Even the educational system gives you a break after fifty minutes and you can stop the instructor and ask questions.  To go an hour and half to two hours before an intermission is asking too much of this audience member.           

Add to this list of cons: gratuitous displays of nudity (or profanity) and violence as well as stridently polemical or didactic plays.  Both seek to make their points - the former by shocking, the latter by "educating" the theatergoer.  For me, theater that calls attention to itself is working against the suspension of disbelief.  Like good design, which is subtle and complements the production, good theater should choose its moments to score points, and leave the audience unsettled, but not irritated.     

I'm all for directorial innovations to move the story action along.  But after the tenth imaginary character, use of puppets, employment of sheets, introduction of miniature models, interjection of freeze-frame or slow motion or split scenes, I start to long for a straightforward production.  These novelties turn into fads during a season and if employed too frequently, turn it into a long one.