Can Eugene O’Neill’s masterpiece A Long Day’s Journey Into Night be anything but good theatre? Can Mel Brooks’ musical, The Producers, be anything but a hilarious hit—and is it good theatre? The answers are “Yes,” ‘No,” and “Yes.” With insufficient acting and/or directing, the O’Neill classic, at four hours, can be a long and tedious journey, indeed. Without Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick, Mr. Brooks’ work might not have the same panache, but will still bring down the house night after night because it is inherently clever, irreverent (read: politically incorrect) and charming.

Does that therefore mean that Mr. Brooks’ work is better than Mr. O’Neill’s? Not hardly, but if either show is done at “half mast,” first-time audiences at The Producers will go home much happier than those at Journey.

If a truly dreadful, poorly-written play is performed by Judi Dench, Ralph Fiennes, Kenneth Branaugh and Maggie Smith, would it still be good theatre? Probably not, but I’d go see it just the same, as would most regular theatre goers.

A combination of factors should be present for good theatre to result:

1. An engaging, well-conceived script or foundation material;
2. A reasonable (or justifiable) interpretation of it;
3. Substantial technical production values;
4. Believable acting—or if that isn’t applicable, then expert performing;
5. A seamless blend of all the elements.

The absence of one or more of these factors casts doubt on the potential of the production as good theatre.

As a member of The Joseph Jefferson Awards Committee, I see roughly 150 productions a year, and, to Chicago’s credit, most of them could be considered good theatre. As a judge, however, my work is to identify and mark for award consideration what is excellent or outstanding. That’s a different ballgame altogether. We judges assume going in that the elements are “good,” else why would the elements of a particular production—the script, the cast, the direction, the technicals—be chosen in the first place?

Often the task of marking my ballot is easy:

1. If an acting performance is so stunning that it takes my breath away;
2. If a production is so moving that I don’t want to leave the theatre;
3. If a technical element is so beautifully done that my mouth hangs open with amazement;
4. If an ensemble‘s timing is so flawlessly executed that I am shocked at the curtain call to see how few actors there are in the show;
5. If I laugh so hard my face aches, and I want to come and see the production again.

Mostly, however, it’s a subjective decision, based on a fairly straightforward conceit: do I feel that person (actor, director, writer, technician, etc.) deserves to walk across the stage and receive an award for the work that I’ve just seen. The list of “easy choices” might indicate that flashy, knock-your-socks-off stuff is what garners awards, and what good theatre is all about. But that’s not true. Tears running down the face of an actress during a speech doesn’t necessarily mean she’s a good actress—but it does mean she’s a good crier. Jazzy lighting or sound effects may be impressive, but if they aren’t integrated and therefore don’t serve the production well, they are intrusive and don’t make for good theatre.

I am probably one of only a handful of people in the universe who hated the blockbuster musical, Rent. I was sitting in the balcony of the Shubert (an admittedly crappy seat), and had trouble seeing and hearing anything. Mostly, though, I was turned off by a bunch of people in street clothes wearing operator-type microphones, dancing around on cafeteria tables. That night, I certainly would not have voted for anything, and most certainly do not consider that experience good theatre. It must be noted here, however, that often the energy of a production simply does not reach beyond a given row on the main floor.

As I scrolled through my computerized list of productions I have seen in my lifetime (2,849 and counting) looking for examples of bad theatre, I stopped instead at a recent production of Lookingglass’ Hillbilly Antigone that polarized much of the Committee—with me ending up on the positive side. I can’t speak for their reasons for thinking it not good theatre, but suffice it to say that it turned them off—some vehemently. I, however, along with many of my colleagues, was fascinated with the concept, thought the acting believable, found the somewhat odd set workable, appreciated the tight ensemble work, and even was able to laugh and enjoy the play—a rare occurrence for a classic I generally find tiresome and dreary. My point? There is often no consensus, even among experienced, knowledgeable judges as to what constitutes good theatre.

It doesn’t have to be a classic or a mega-musical, either. Neo Futurists’ Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind is terrifically good theatre—because it has all those factors listed above. It has one-millionth the budget of Spamalot, but it shares the classification. I’ll bet there are people out there who hated both productions. Well, they don’t know what good theatre is!!

Bruce Siewerth is the chair of the non-Equity, Citations wing of the Joseph Jefferson Committee. 

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