What audience reactions reveal about how we experience theater—and what we avoid saying. Standing ovations have become routine. The lights come up, the cast takes their bow—and almost everyone stands. It’s immediate. Collective. Expected. And I’ve started to wonder what, exactly, we’re responding to. Because I’ve sat in theaters this season where the work was strong—and others where it was uneven. Moments that landed. Moments that didn’t. Choices that felt fully realized, and others that felt underdeveloped.And still, the response was the same. We stand. We applaud. We say, “It was amazing.” But rarely do we talk about the moments that didn’t quite reach us. The transition that felt rushed. The character choice that didn’t hold. The emotional beat that never fully arrived. Not harshly. Not dismissively. Just… honestly. Instead, we soften. We generalize. We default to praise. Part of that is generosity. Theater is live, communal, vulnerable. We’re watching people take risks in real time. There’s a desire to support that—to honor the effort, the labor, the presence. But somewhere along the way, support has started to replace discernment. Because there’s a difference between appreciating the work and fully engaging with it. And when we skip that second step—when we don’t name what didn’t land—we lose something. Artists lose useful reflection. Audiences lose depth of experience. And the work itself stays unchallenged. Theater is unique in that it happens with us. Our attention, our belief, our response—they’re part of the exchange. But if that response becomes predictable, automatic, detached from what we actually felt in the room, then what are we participating in? Maybe the standing ovation isn’t always about the show. Maybe it’s about habit. About community. About wanting to be seen as supportive, as kind, as someone who “gets it.” And none of those impulses are wrong. But they’re not the same as engagement. Because engagement asks more of us. It asks us to notice when we lean in—and when we pull back. To sit with discomfort. To name confusion. To trust our own experience, even when it’s not the same as the room. Not every show needs to be perfect. Not every response needs to be critical. But if everything is met with the same level of praise, we lose the ability to recognize what truly moves us. And maybe the question isn’t whether we should stand.It’s why we do. I’m unpacking that more in this week’s episode of Standing Ovation? —looking at what our reactions reveal, and what they might be covering.
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Who Is Buffalo Musical Theatre For?
After seeing three recent productions--
A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder at MusicalFare, Islander at Irish Classical Theatre, and The Ghost Brothers of Darkland County at Road Less Traveled Productions-- I’ve been sitting with a question that feels bigger than any one show. Not whether the work is good. Not whether it’s entertaining. But who it’s actually for. Each of these productions offered something distinct. A Gentleman’s Guide was polished, funny, and technically sharp—Buffalo doing what it does well. Islander was something rarer: inventive, intimate, and rooted in imagination, asking the audience to lean in rather than sit back. And Ghost Brothers, written by Stephen King with music by John Mellencamp, arrived with name recognition and strong production elements, but left me wrestling with the text in ways I’m still unpacking. What struck me across all three wasn’t just their differences—it was the feeling that they were speaking to very different audiences, whether intentionally or not. And that raised a larger question for me:How often are we thinking about audience as more than just attendance? Buffalo theater is full of talent. That’s not the issue. But there’s a difference between filling seats and engaging a community—and I’m not always convinced those two things are aligned. There’s also something happening in the room itself. Audiences here are generous—sometimes overwhelmingly so. Standing ovations come quickly, almost reflexively. And while that generosity is part of what makes this theater community feel supportive, it also raises another question: What does it mean to respond honestly to what we’re seeing? Not every show has to be for everyone. It shouldn’t be. But when programming choices, audience habits, and artistic risk don’t quite line up, it’s worth paying attention. I’ve been thinking about this more deeply—about these shows, these audiences, and what we might be asking of each other-- and I’ll be unpacking it further in my upcoming podcast, Standing Ovation? Because the question isn’t just what we’re watching. It’s who we believe belongs in the room. annette daniels-TaylorPlaywright, actor, director, and educator reflecting on theater, performance, criticism, and the emotional exchange between artists and audiences. ArchivesCategories |


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