If You Hate The Show, Take It For A Walk First

There is an unspoken rule in theatre that most seasoned audience members learn quickly, even if no one ever spells it out. If you are desperate to tear into the Broadway show you have just seen, give it a little space. Two blocks, give or take, will usually do.

Cinema etiquette does not quite prepare people for this. When you complain about a film on your way out of a multiplex, the chances of the director, cast, or crew overhearing you are slim to nonexistent. Theatre is different. Especially in the early weeks of a run, the building is still thick with the people who made the thing. Directors linger. Designers pop in. Understudies, producers, assistants, friends, and family hover nearby, soaking in reactions. The theatre is not just a venue, it is a workplace, and often a very emotional one.

That is why professionals tend to migrate before they start dissecting what worked and what did not. Talking is a reflex after sitting quietly for two hours, but proximity matters. A theatre is a creative home, and audiences are guests who have been invited in, even if that invitation came with a hefty ticket price. Bad manners hit harder when they happen in the host’s living room.

This is not about silencing criticism or demanding polite applause for work that missed the mark. Theatre thrives on debate, taste, and disagreement. But timing and location count. Judging a show loudly at intermission is particularly unfair, since many productions shift gears after the break. Some shows find their footing late. Others unravel. Either way, the verdict deserves the courtesy of a full viewing.

What many audience members do not realise is how porous a theatre space really is. Conversations echo through lobbies, bathrooms, bars, and stairwells. Technical teams monitor performances from front of house using cameras and microphones that do not discriminate between dialogue onstage and commentary in the seats. Crew members circulate constantly, often invisible, listening whether they mean to or not. The person nodding politely beside you in the line for the restroom may have stitched the costume, called the cues, or spent months wrestling a set into place.

For actors and creatives, this overheard chatter can land with unexpected force. Online criticism is abstract, part of the background noise of the job. Hearing someone dismiss your work while holding a programme and standing ten feet away is far more personal. Even veterans who know how tough the business can be still feel the sting when it happens face to face.

Intermission, in particular, can be a gauntlet. Creators ducking out for air or a quiet moment often collide with raw reactions from patrons who assume no one involved is nearby. By the time the final curtain falls, most artists have already absorbed a dozen stray opinions they never asked for.

Of course, the two block rule has its limits. The subway ride home is a grey area. Actors commute like everyone else, and overhearing post show chatter underground is almost inevitable. Expecting silence there is unrealistic. Still, there is a difference between casual reflection and performative trashing, especially when the Playbill is still in hand.

None of this argues for dishonesty. You are allowed to dislike a show. You are allowed to be bored, irritated, or disappointed. Theatre artists know that not everything works, and they are often the first to say so. But there is a small, humane pause worth observing before you unload. Walk a bit. Let the marquee disappear behind you. Give the people who just bared their work a few yards of grace.

If nothing else, it improves the quality of the conversation. Anger cools. Thoughts sharpen. And your takedown, if it still feels necessary two blocks later, will probably be smarter for the wait.

Photo Credit: DepositPhotos.com