I’d signed up to review From Another Woman by acclaimed playwright Sam Brooks. The day before opening night, I managed to sneak out of work for a couple of hours to attend one of the Basement’s Pride Makers workshops: How to Review a Theatre Show—led by Brooks himself.
I’ve reviewed shows for Auckland Theatre Company and Silo before, but From Another Woman feels more daunting. Sam isn’t just an award-winning playwright; he’s spent over a decade shaping the Auckland arts scene through his reviews in The Spinoff, Pantograph Punch, The NZ Herald, and now his own newsletter, Dramatic Pause.
And let’s be real—it’s an amazing opportunity to sit in a small classroom (just seven of us) and hear Sam talk about what makes a good theatre review for two hours—for free.
Sam emphasised the important role of reviews in the arts: “Reviews are a part of a show’s archive.” Unlike film or prose, theatre is ephemeral—once a performance ends, it’s gone.
He also reflected on how reviewing has changed since he started in 2011: “It was easy to get the Herald to review a show. Now that’s unheard of.” With sites like The Pantograph Punch on hiatus and arts journals disappearing, fewer and fewer shows get reviewed at all—let alone by more than one person.
For opening night of From Another Woman, only two reviewers will be present—one of them is me.
It’s not surprising. Like much of Auckland’s arts scene, reviewing relies on passion and free labour—not just from reviewers (who, at least, get free tickets) but from editors who connect theatres and publicists with writers, coordinate coverage, and get reviews published. With arts funding in steady decline, it’s becoming harder for people to give up their time.
Having been on the receiving side of this process, I see how vital and time-consuming the editor’s role is. Not just in organising coverage, but in mentoring new reviewers, many of whom are also new writers.
During the workshop, Sam broke down the key components of a good review: structure, context, and crafting a thoughtful response. Reviewing is its own art—one that takes time to develop.
So while it’s clear we need more reviews, I’m not sure the industry can easily solve this bottleneck.
That said, if you get the opportunity to review, take it. Sam encourages people not to be afraid of reviewing—or of being reviewed. “Neither will break relationships or end your career,” (though he does advise against reviewing close friends or family). He’s been on both ends of scathing reviews. But just as the art isn’t the artist, the review isn’t the reviewer.
As Sam puts it: “The beauty in reviewing is the license to talk about how it made you feel.”
So, what did I take away from Sam’s workshop?
- Meet the show where it’s at. Consider what the production is trying to achieve and the space it’s in. Reviewing an experimental show at Basement Theatre requires a different lens than evaluating Shakespeare at ATC. Understanding the work’s intent helps you engage with it on its own terms rather than imposing expectations that don’t fit.
- The review is a bridge. A review connects the audience to the artwork, helping them engage with it more deeply. It’s not about offering unsolicited advice to the creators (who may or may not read reviews). But even then, if you’ve written a brilliant but scathing review, ask yourself—is it worth it? The review will always hold the potential possibility of ruining someone’s day.
- Critique the performance, not the performer. Focus on the artistic choices, skill and ability rather than making personal judgments about an actor’s physical appearance.
- Get the details right. Don’t make assumptions—fact-check your references, ensure you’ve understood the context, and always spell people’s names correctly.
- End with a question. Rather than just delivering a verdict, pose a question that invites the reader to reflect on the work.
However, the session leaves me wondering—what is the way forward for reviewing? Does it now depend on audiences capturing and responding to what they see, posting on their own blogs, bypassing traditional publications and editors? Platforms like IMDb and Letterboxd have become the backbone of movie reviews by general audiences—could theatre criticism take a similar path to ensure records are kept? And if so, what does that mean for the quality of criticism and the art of the review itself?
Thanks so much to Basement Theatre for providing the Pride Makers Wiki for Auckland Pride 2025.
