The Little Man

A few weeks ago, I had lunch with a Berkeley theatre director who told me, in no uncertain terms, that the only review that matters to him is the one that appears in The San Francisco Chronicle. Other reviews, he said, don't count for much. Getting a positive write-up in the Chron makes all the difference between filling his venue to capacity and playing so half-filled houses.

The director is not alone in his opinion. Time and time again, I hear the same thing. As a theatre critic for another publication in San Francisco, this news ought to make me feel a bit sad. Actually, it doesn't really have that effect on me, as I don't derive any satisfaction as a writer about the performing arts in knowing that I might be responsible for making or breaking a show. My strategy is altogether different.

But what's scary about the power of the Little Man isn't the fact that theatre audiences and companies are pinning all their responses on the words of one critic -- in this case, the Chron's Robert Hurwitt. For better or for worse, the Chronicle is the local paper of record, so that's no surprise. In The Bay Area, Mr. Hurwitt fulfills the same function as Ben Brantley of the New York Times or Chris Jones at The Chicago Tribune.

The alarming thing is that the Little Man distracts readers from the critic's words. What the reviewer has to say about a show in his 500 or so words is barely of consequence (except perhaps, in the case of an enthusiastic response, as a tagline to be pulled out and used on publicity posters and ads by the production company): it's the noxious "Little Man" icon that appears in the corner of all the Chron's arts reviews that seems to carry all the weight. As another theatre director friend told me over the weekend, "The Little Man has to be jumping out of his seat to really sell tickets." Apparently, the Man clapping or leaning forwards makes little impact. If he's doing anything less salutary, houses remain half-full or worse.

Like a ventriloquist's dummy, the Little Man has become the "voice" of the theatre critic. The critic himself has become a servant to his mannequin. This is happening all over the country, not just here in the Bay Area and, frankly, it's a problem.

For one thing, the reliance on the Little Man icon (or the "thumbs up / down" or whatever a media outlet uses to denote the degree of a production's success or failure) makes readers and theatre companies lazy. The theatre is a visual medium in some ways, but it's main currency is language. If an inane symbol, rather than words, comes to represent the art form, then the art form suffers.

The primary function of a review, in my opinion, isn't to sell tickets. It's to engage both audiences (potential as well as ones who've already seen the production) and theatre makers in discussion. It's about making people make connections between art and the world and helping them to see possibilities beyond the status quo. A theatre review is no different than a good essay or opinion piece in a publication. It should be informative and well-written and feisty.

There are other, secondary functions too, of course. One is to encourage people to get out and see a good play or musical. Another is to entertain readers with beautiful, witty prose and/or teach them something about the arts and maybe even society at large. A third is to provide a written record that exists long after the ephemeral performance event has ceased to exist itself.

It would be a good thing if theatre audiences could look beyond the Little Man. If I were the editor of The Chron, I would do away with the bastard completely. But I think we won't start to see a change in the importance of this symbol until theatre makers alter their attitude and see that the media isn't only there to sell tickets or, god forbid, keep people away from a show.

It's time to take a stand against the Little Man. Why don't theatre makers write letters to the Chronicle asking for an end to the symbol? Or perhaps they could run talk-back sessions with audiences asking for viewers' responses to the symbol (and reviews in general). These sessions could be used both to obtain feedback about how reviews are being received as well as a means to educate audiences about reading reviews in different ways. Dare I say it, but there are other theatre critics in town (both professional and amateur) who can offer penetrating responses to theatre without having to speak through a ventriloquist's dummy.

For more background on the Little Man, read this article about the icon's 50th birthday.