08 October 2026

Three Major Theatrical Hubs: Los Angeles

 

A Supplement to the Regional Theater Series

[In the New York Times last summer, incumbent artistic director of the Public Theater in New York Oskar Eustis announced his retirement from the company effective in two years (“Nurturer of Theater Intends to Move On,” 23 July 2026 [Section C: “Arts”]).  He also declared, “I think the American nonprofit theater movement is over.”

[“That doesn’t mean any individual theater is over,” Eustis added.  “But every individual theater is having to make its own case and come up with its own business model.”  In several past posts on Rick On Theater, readers have heard that the American theater, especially the regional and resident companies, is in crisis (see, for instance, “A Crisis In America's Theaters” [13 September 2023]).

[(There’s a list [with links] of blog articles about regional theater in the U.S. at the top of "Defying the Odds Far From Broadway" by Michael Paulson [22 December 2025].)

[The current issue of the Theatre Communications Group magazine American Theatre is publishing a series of short articles that attests to the belief, according to Kelundra Smith, publisher of AT, “that the American theatre hasn’t reached its climax.” 

[“But it is in need of reimagining,” Smith admonishes.  And her colleague LaTeshia Ellerson, TCG’s Co-Executive Director for National Engagement, chimes in with “there is so much we can learn from each other.” 

[I’m reposting the articles in “A Tale of Three Cities” because . . . well, I’m always ready to spread good news.  This is the second in the series, a report on the present state of theater in Los Angeles, California.  It was preceded by a report on theater in Washington, D.C. (5 October), and will be followed by one on theater in Atlanta (11 October).]

AT’s Introduction to “A Tale of Three Cities”

In looking around the U.S. in anticipation of a busy 2026-27 theatre season, we decided to tell the stories of three major theatrical hubs: Atlanta, Los Angeles, and Washington, D.C. In exploring the unique challenges each community has faced and overcome, we’re also looking for the lessons these cities might hold for the national theatre field. Amid controversy and chaos, shifting real estate landscapes, changing audience behavior, and fickle funding, all three theatre scenes have much to celebrate and to look forward to.

“A TALE OF THREE CITIES: L.A.’S RUNWAY PROJECT”
by Steven Leigh Morris

[It wasn’t that long ago that L.A. didn’t have a theater scene.  Sure, there were lots of actors, directors, designers, and writers in the area, and most of them were chronically un- or underemployed most of the time.  But, unlike other parts of Southern California—San Diego, Costa Mesa, Laguna Beach, Pasadena—L.A. was all about movies and TV, not theater.

[But all those artists, many of whom had started on the stage before going west, were looking for outlets, and classes and lessons got old when there was no place to apply what they were learning.  So sometime in the ’70s and early ’80s, groups of these performers, directors, designers, stage hands, and writers got together and formed the kinds of troupes they’d worked in in New York, Chicago, or San Francisco, and soon Los Angeles had a bustling Off-Off-Broadway-style theater scene. 

[Of course, along with that impulse came the growth of more substantial theaters, and the City of Angels had a flowering of theaters and stage productions to rival the country’s established theater towns.  And that’s where it stands now.

[Inevitably, the theaters of Los Angeles weren’t exempt from the repercussions of the COVID pandemic, the vicissitudes of the economy, the loss of public finding sources (most notably, the National Endowment for the Arts), and the aging of the theatergoing public.  Stephen Leigh Morris reports below on how the theater community on his SoCal beat are faring.

[The report below was published in American Theatre vol. 43, no. 1 (Fall 2026) and was posted at AMERICANTHEATRE | L.A.’s Runway Project on 28 September 2026.]

The state of play(s) in Southern California, where the theatre refuses to die.

In assessing the state of Southern California’s sprawling theatre scene, contradictions emerge. Most are struggling; some are not. Some find that new plays keep audiences away; for many, new work is the draw.

Across the board, for all their challenges with audiences, buildings, and contracts, nobody in Southern California—where the local film and TV industry has faced its own recessionary pressures—believes that the theatre is dying. That’s probably as good a place as any to start.

View From Above

Theatre leaders told me that audiences have been returning post-Covid, though still not yet at pre-pandemic levels. Meanwhile, federal cuts at important agencies have led foundations to reassess priorities, in some cases squeezing out nonprofit theatres. As Barry Edelstein, artistic director at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre [founded in 1935], put it: When he talks to corporate funders and foundations, “They say, ‘Cancer research.’”

Edelstein also described rising costs that are symptomatic at theatres across the region, large and small. “When I got here 14 years ago, a four-character play in a 250-seat theatre might break even,” he said. “Now that same show loses $150,000.” (Things at the Old Globe, he hastened to add, are fine, in spite of the challenges.)

Theatre reflects the culture it occupies. The fracturing of the culture into tribes within bubbles has an indisputable parallel in live theatre. Pasadena Playhouse [1925] producing artistic director Danny Feldman looks back to 1965, when a musical film like The Sound of Music could unite generations, from teens to octogenarians. “We’re at a moment in history, because of self-curation and digital tech, where the tastes of the old guard have never been more different from the tastes of the young guard,” Feldman said. “How do we carry all of the buckets?”

Times have been particularly tough for L.A.’s smaller theatres, once dominant throughout the county. In the past decade, productions at these companies have shriveled, based on a comparison of stage listings from the digital journal Stage Raw in 2015 and 2026. One reason is the highly contested policy of the stage actors’ union, Actors['] Equity Association, which in 2015 eliminated the region’s long-standing 99-Seat Theatre Plan. That plan, which permitted union actors to perform in intimate theatres of 99 seats or fewer as volunteers working for stipends, led to a boom—some would say a glut—of productions from the 1980s through the 2000s. The union’s goal in rescinding that deal, to foster more contract weeks for Equity actors, doesn’t seem to have borne fruit. Instead most small companies are simply producing fewer shows.

A second blow came in 2020 with State Assembly Bill 5, which mandates that, with a few exceptions, every theatre worker in California is entitled to minimum wage, drawing payroll taxes paid by the employer (the theatre). Jon Lawrence Rivera, who’s about to retire after a 34-year run as artistic director of the new-work-fostering Playwrights Arena, laid out the math: A play in a 35-seat theatre with six characters cost $20,000 in 2019; it now costs around $80,000. The troupe’s entire annual budget is $150,000. Rivera’s successor, Elmira Rahim, is struggling to keep the company solvent and meaningful.

Snehal Desai, artistic director of the region’s flagship theatre, Center Theatre Group (CTG; 1967), said he’d love to tap the new plays being developed by L.A.’s smaller theatres, but there are fewer to choose from. Pasadena Playhouse’s Feldman put it succinctly: “You can’t have the major leagues without the minor ones.”

[The Center Theatre Group is a non-profit arts organization located in Los Angeles. It comprises the Mark Taper Forum and the Ahmanson Theatre, both opened in 1967 at the Los Angeles Music Center in downtown L. A., and the Kirk Douglas Theatre, opened as the Culver Theatre in 1947 in Culver City, in L.A. County west of downtown Los Angeles. The Ahmanson (2,084 seats) presents large-scale plays and musicals, while the Mark Taper (739 seats) is used for more intimate productions of a provocative and innovative nature. The Kirk Douglas (317 seats) stages intimate, modern, and experimental productions. (The Los Angeles Music Center [officially the Performing Arts Center of Los Angeles County, established in 1964] also comprises the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the Roy & Edna Disney CalArts Theatre (REDCAT), and the Walt Disney Concert Hall.)]

Triumphs and Conundrums

Desai is now in his third season running CTG, which presents plays in three separate buildings of 2,084 seats, 739 seats, and 317 seats, respectively. When he arrived at the post in 2023, CTG was in free fall. Massive staff layoffs accompanied the controversial decision to suspend programming for a year while the company regrouped. (Its current budget sits at $50 million.)

Last season, Desai’s attempt to stanch the blood loss was to program a season of culturally diverse hits, almost all imported from New York and London. As a commercial strategy, it worked; audiences roared back. And for the upcoming season, the number of plays at the mid-sized Mark Taper Forum is back up to four (from three).

In the midst of all the Broadway and West End imports, Desai holds out hope that in the future he can take advantage of CTG’s third space, the Kirk Douglas Theatre in Culver City, to present locally generated new work with such smaller troupes as IAMA Theatre Company, Deaf West Theatre, East West Players, Latino Theater Company, Ammunition Theatre Company, and Four Larks. He talks about the “long runway” of educating audiences about the value of new voices. That’s what used to be called investment—and leadership.

Over at the official State Theatre of California (the official designation of the century-old, 686-seat Spanish Colonial-style Pasadena Playhouse), Feldman, who helped oversee the nonprofit’s recent purchase of the building from the city, said that ticket sales cover between 40 to 60 percent of expenses. He’s working to bridge that gap with adult education programs of up to 400 students per semester.

Feldman does have a commercial streak in his programming, but that doesn’t always mean “safe.” He believes in “taking big swings,” he said. “You don’t raise money by begging. You raise money by leading.” He admitted that the theatre has struggled with new plays, which don’t draw the crowds the organization needs to stay afloat. In 2024, Feldman presented TV writer Gloria Calderón Kellett’s [b. 1975; One Day at a Time (TV series, 2017-20; Netflix and Pop); With Love (2021-23; Amazon Original)] comedy, One of the Good Ones [world premiere], which drew some criticism for resembling a sitcom. But Feldman argued that he’s aiming for more than crowd-pleasers. “If our goal is to build the largest subscription-based audience, we’ll look like A Noise Within, staying in our lane.”

Also in Pasadena, A Noise Within—a solid, reliably conservative purveyor of established works in repertory—is one in a cluster of once intimate theatres (South Coast Repertory [1964], L.A. Actors’ Theatre, East West Players, International City Theatre) that graduated to mid-size status some time between 1967 and 2011.

Crosstown in Westwood is the Geffen Playhouse, a two-theatre complex (512 and 149 seats) with a thoughtful playwright, Tarell Alvin McCraney, at the helm since 2023. He said he aims to balance the hunger for crowd pleasers by also presenting “important plays” that may not appeal to a broad audience. McCraney’s own The Brothers Size [2007] was programmed off-subscription as a special event. “We knew that was a different experience: a play with live music and street poetry,” he explained. “It started in the lobby and moved inside.”

Like most good leaders, McCraney is learning to swim upstream. A thousand new subscriptions came in last year, according to the Geffen’s executive director and CEO Gil Cates Jr., though the theatre lacks deep-pocketed industry donors, and last year’s Palisades fires drove a swath of Geffen subscribers from L.A.’s Westside. But, said Cates, “I still see the opportunity as larger than the challenges.”

Down the 405 freeway from the Geffen Playhouse, some 47 miles into Orange County, stands the three-theatre complex (507, 336, and 94 seats) of the Tony Award-winning South Coast Repertory [1964], which has a storied legacy of developing new works, including with its annual Pacific Playwrights Festival.

Artistic director David Ivers arrived in 2018, not long before Covid struck, and his managing director, Suzanne Appel, is just now starting her third season. SCR’s audiences, largely from suburban OC burgs, skew white and older, Appel explained. But that doesn’t describe the demographics of the whole region, or its future—hence the theatre’s active education and community outreach programs. Quipped Ivers: “Forty years ago, we asked, ‘What are we going to do to bring in new audiences?’” On rare occasions, the more things stay the same—the more they stay the same.

Tales of the City-Owned

Meanwhile, who says local governments can’t support the arts? Three city-owned theatres report robust financial health, and others are making it work with municipal help.

La Mirada Theatre, located in a suburb in southeastern L.A. County, is owned and maintained by La Mirada. But the city subcontracts programming for the 1,251-seat space to McCoy Rigby Entertainment (MRE), which takes a fee for producing a season of almost entirely Broadway musicals and hit plays. The city takes 100 percent of the box office revenue and pays 100 percent of production expenses. With 22 performances per show and five shows a season, that is more than sufficient to meet production costs, despite the exponential rise in those costs, said MRE’s Tom McCoy.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Downtown Los Angeles, the city-owned Los Angeles Theatre Center (LATC), a historic complex of five theatres in an eight-story former bank building, tells another success story with a different model. Twenty years ago, after a contentious bidding process and a $4 million grant from the California Cultural and Historical Endowment in 2006, José Luis Valenzuela’s Latino Theater Company (LTC) landed a long-term lease with the city to maintain and operate the facility. The city neither pays for the building’s maintenance, which Valenzuela put at about $500,000 a year, nor takes any of the box office revenue.

[Before the LTC occupied the downtown Los Angeles Theatre Center, it was home to a company by that name under Bill Bushnell (1937-2024) from 1985 to its demise in 1991.  Bushnell took over the company, an experimental troupe originally called the Los Angeles Actors Theatre (LAAT), from its founder in 1975, actor Ralph Waite (1928-2014), housed then in the Oxford Street Theatre in East Hollywood (now operating as the Eastwood Performing Arts Center).]

Even with $14 million in assets, Valenzuela said that LTC is a “local, not a regional theatre—culturally specific,” though not exclusively so, reaching audiences from the far reaches of San Bernardino [east pof L.A.] and Riverside [east of L.A. County, but with Orange County between them; south of San Bernardino County] counties, some from more than 100 miles away. As at the Geffen, Valenzuela said that his company relies not on deep-pocketed donors but on thousands of donations from people giving $25 to $50 a month. Ticket prices generally range from $10 to $60, and the company presents seven productions a year, including one off-site annual holiday spectacle (La Virgin de Guadalupe, Dios Inantzin) up the street at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.

[A Los Angeles tradition since 2002, the musical drama La Virgin de Guadalupe, Dios Inantzin was written by Evelina Fernández and directed by Valenzuela. A bilingual (in Spanish and Nahuatl, the Aztec language) performance, it features a cast of over 100 actors, singers, and indigenous Aztec dancers, along with community members, retelling the 1531 story of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

[The play is directly adapted from the Nican Mopohua (“Here It Is Told”; published, 1649), the classic 16th-century Nahuatl text traditionally attributed to indigenous scholar Antonio Valeriano (ca. 1521-1605). In the Nican Mopohua, the Virgin Mary identifies herself in Nahuatl as the mother of the true God, linking her presence deeply with indigenous heritage and the pre-Hispanic figure of Tonantzin (“Our Sacred Mother”).

[In Nahuatl, Inantzin (or nantzin) means “our mother” or “mother,” and Dios Inantzin translates to “Mother of God.” The holiday pageant is traditionally spoken and sung entirely in Spanish, but LTC predominantly performs in English, Spanish, and bilingual blends (Spanglish); for productions in Spanish, LTC uses English supertitles.]

In a contradiction of the prevailing wisdom that new plays don’t draw audiences, LTC presents a swath of commercially successful new works coming largely from a cadre of in-residence playwrights called the Circle of Imaginistas. LTC commissions and develops their plays, then presents them in one of three theatres (496 seats, 318 seats, or 250 seats).

“When new plays speak directly and immediately to the concerns of a community, they find their audience,” Valenzuela said, pointing to this year’s twice-extended The Storyteller of East L.A. by Evelina Fernández [world premiere, 2026], about a family whose matriarch is coping with Alzheimer’s.

Looks like Valenzuela built that runway.

“Audiences flow in streams,” Valenzuela said. “Some large, some small. Bertolt Brecht performed his works in coffee shops. There are different fish in each stream. It doesn’t have to be the same audience. We’re not competing for audiences.”

Yet another long-running company in a city-owned facility is Long Beach’s International City Theatre (ICT), now in its 41st season at the 825-seat Beverly O’Neill thrust stage, ensconced within the Long Beach Entertainment and Convention Center.

caryn desai [sic] took over artistic leadership of ICT in 2011 from her husband and artistic partner, Shashin Desai. Ticket sales at ICT average about one-half of expenses, desai reported, and with “careful budgeting,” and an annual budget of about $1.32 million, the theatre has “operated in the black for several seasons,” supplementing ticket sales with six grant-attracting education programs—mostly for youth, but also one for HUD-residing, low-income seniors.

Another runway builder, desai said that when you educate audiences about the excitement of new plays, they show up. In the past three seasons, ICT has presented world premieres by Luke Yankee [Marilyn, Mom & Me, 2024], Wendy Graf [Exit Wounds, 2023; Masala Dabba, 2025], and Paul Webb [Warsaw, 2026].  

Not far from another beach, in Santa Monica, City Garage Theatre (established in 1987) continues its idiosyncratic and sometimes politically charged programming at a leased venue of 85 seats that lies within an arts colony of galleries, the city-owned Bergamot Station. The troupe has a minimum of paid staff and mostly relies on volunteers, with a budget of about $170,000, and it presents workshops and three or four productions a year, often of European work in translation. (Their deal may not last, though: In June 2025, the city began accepting bids from developers to turn the entire Bergamot Station property into affordable housing.)

Also on L.A.’s Westside, John Ruskin and Mike Myers jointly run Ruskin Group Theatre (RGT), a newly built complex of two small theatres (99 and 65 seats) in a city-owned venue on the grounds of the Santa Monica Municipal Airport. With naming rights for theatres and seats, the duo raised $1.4 million, with the city kicking in another $3 million. They opened the larger space in February and the smaller one a month later.

Myers and Ruskin said they are currently trying to navigate a budget gap of 70 percent between ticket revenue and expenses (including $15,000/month rent). With their high artistic ambitions, though, the pair is unlikely to find savings by staging all solo performances and two-handers. As Myers put it, they have another decade on the lease to figure out the gamble they made with “enthusiasm and stupidity.”

Level Up

At the opposite corner of L.A. County, in a rapidly gentrifying district northwest of Downtown L.A. called Highland Park, sits Outside In Theatre. Though co-founders Daniel Blinkoff and Tamlyn Tomita initially envisaged it as a base for digital art, they soon hired producing artistic director Jessica Hanna to create a theatre space in an empty former Pontiac dealership, plus a studio next door, resulting in two separate purchases and renovations totaling $10 million, underwritten by an inheritance left by Blinkoff’s mother, singer-songwriter Carol Hall [1936-2018] (The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas [stage musical, 1978; film. 1982]). When asked about their fiscal strategy once the inheritance runs dry, Hanna replied, “We’re working on that.”

The same could be said for Guillermo Cienfuegos and Justin Okin, who’ve taken over as artistic director and executive director, respectively, of the highly regarded Rogue Machine, which runs two small theatres on Melrose Avenue in Hollywood. Founder John Perrin Flynn, who retired last year after almost 20 years running it, landed a $500,000 grant from the Perenchio Foundation [private, family grantmaking foundation dedicated to supporting the visual and performing arts in Los Angeles County] to provide salaries for Cienfuegos and Okin to “level up the organization,” as Okin put it. Despite playing to full houses, Cienfuegos added, “If we have a production with more than six actors, we have to have outside financing and a co-production. Without donors or outside help, no production is possible.”

Cienfuegos said that should funds run low, he’d have to rent the venue for half a year to help underwrite Rogue Machine’s productions, and this seems to be prevailing strategy: Sacred Fools, a scrappy troupe that came of age in the late 1990s, is now mostly a landlord over at the Broadwater in Hollywood; Maria Gobetti’s Victory Theatre in Burbank, a new-play-centric troupe she founded with her now late husband Tom Ormeny in 1980, uses rentals and acting classes as a survival mechanism; ditto Beth Hogan, who took over what may be the grandfather of L.A.’s small theatres, Odyssey Theatre Ensemble in West L.A., founded in 1969. Even A Noise Within’s cousin, the stalwart Glendale-based Antaeus Theatre Company that has staged classics since its 1991 founding, has a “rentals” page on its website.

Attention must also be paid to the companies quietly persisting, building on legacies of distinguished work dating back decades: Hollywood’s Theatre of NOTE (1981) and the Fountain Theatre, founded in 1990 by Stephen Sachs and Deborah Lawlor, and now run by Raymond O. Caldwell and Johannah Maynard Edwards; Martha Demson’s actors’ collective, Open Fist Theatre Company (1990); Chris Fields’s Echo Theater Company (1996); Debbie Devine and Jay McAdams’s 24th Street Theatre, doing sophisticated youth programming since 1997; Jessica Kubzansky’s Boston Court Pasadena (inventive works since 2003); Ben Guillory and Danny Glover’s Robey Theatre Company, championing global Black literature since 1994; North Hollywood’s Zombie Joe’s Underground, specializing in hourlong horror shows since 1992; Road Theatre Company, presenting new plays since 1991; Group Repertory Theatre, established by actor Lonny Chapman [1920-2007] in 1973; Ebony Rep, an African American company operating out of the L.A. City-owned Nate Holden Performing Arts Center since 2007; the Will Geer Theatricum Botanicum, operating out of an amphitheatre in Topanga, founded by TV actor/muckraker Will Geer [1902-78] in 1973, and now headed by his daughter Ellen Geer [b. 1941], with his granddaughter, Willow Geer [b. 1981], in the line of succession; Marilyn Fox’s Pacific Resident Theatre (1985); Theatre 40 (1964), ensconced on the Beverly Hills High School campus since 1974; Theatre West, established in 1962 by [actors] Betty Garrett [1919-2011], Joyce Van Patten [b. 1934], and Charles Aidman [1925-93]; and one of the oldest ongoing theatres in Southern California, Musical Theatre West, born in 1952 as the Whittier Civic Light Opera.

That so few of these theatres have folded their tents speaks to the tenacity of leaders and theatregoers across Southern California. They don’t crow a lot. They keep their heads down and keep working. The quality of at least some of what they produce, and the communities they engender, is sufficient to keep their audiences returning.

The larger question is how these troupes, some with visions and philosophies dating back to the mid-20th century, will adapt and survive. Are our theatres going to yield to the prevailing wisdom of audiences’ atomized self-curation, and thereby merely echo our society’s fractures? Or can our theatres instead guide us to see the value of relationships larger than any single play they put on? Can theatre be a pillar of community—an antidote to the toxin of alienation from our neighbors, even from ourselves? Southern California offers one place—or rather, many places—to look for the answer.

[As I noted above, the third AT article on regional theater, covering theater in Atlanta, will be published on Sunday, 11 October 2026.  Please come back to ROT then for the last part of “A Tale of Three Cities.”

[Steven Leigh Morris (he/him) is a playwright and the founding editor of Stage Raw (stageraw.com), a digital journal covering theater from Santa Barbara to San Diego, and points beyond.]


05 October 2026

Three Major Theatrical Hubs: Washington, D.C.

 

A Supplement to the Regional Theater Series

[In the New York Times last summer, incumbent artistic director of the Public Theater in New York Oskar Eustis announced his retirement from the company effective in two years (“Nurturer of Theater Intends to Move On,” 23 July 2026 [Section C: “Arts”]).  He also declared, “I think the American nonprofit theater movement is over.”

[“That doesn’t mean any individual theater is over,” Eustis added.  “But every individual theater is having to make its own case and come up with its own business model.”  In several past posts on Rick On Theater, readers have heard that the American theater, especially the regional and resident companies, is in crisis (see, for instance, “A Crisis In America's Theaters” [13 September 2023]).

[(There’s a list [with links] of blog articles about regional theater in the U.S. at the top of "Defying the Odds Far From Broadway" by Michael Paulson [22 December 2025].)

[The current issue of the Theatre Communications Group magazine American Theatre is publishing a series of short articles that attests to the belief, according to Kelundra Smith, publisher of AT, “that the American theatre hasn’t reached its climax.” 

[“But it is in need of reimagining,” Smith admonishes.  And her colleague LaTeshia Ellerson, TCG’s Co-Executive Director for National Engagement, chimes in with “there is so much we can learn from each other.” 

[I’m reposting the articles in “A Tale of Three Cities” because . . . well, I’m always ready to spread good news.  This is the first in the series, a report on the present state of theater in Washington, D.C.  It will be followed by reports on theater in Los Angeles (8 October) and Atlanta (11 October).]

AT’s Introduction to “A Tale of Three Cities”

In looking around the U.S. in anticipation of a busy 2026-27 theatre season, we decided to tell the stories of three major theatrical hubs: Atlanta, Los Angeles, and Washington, D.C. In exploring the unique challenges each community has faced and overcome, we’re also looking for the lessons these cities might hold for the national theatre field. Amid controversy and chaos, shifting real estate landscapes, changing audience behavior, and fickle funding, all three theatre scenes have much to celebrate and to look forward to.

“A TALE OF THREE CITIES: DISTRICT DEFIANCE”
by Daniella Ignacio

[This article particularly caught my eye because, as some ROTters know, I’m a native Washingtonian.  I was born there, grew up there (until 14, if that can be called having grown up), and was introduced to theater there before I saw my first New York show.  In fact, I’ve confessed a number of times to being a confirmed Washington chauvinist.

[I’ve posted several pieces on ROT about D.C. theater topics, starting with “‘Stages in DC’ (Summer 1985)" (25 December 2011); click on the label Theater in Washington DC for additional posts on that topic.  (My early exposure to theater is laid out in “A Broadway Baby” [22 September 2010].)]

[The report below was published in American Theatre vol. 43, no. 1 (Fall 2026) and was posted at AMERICAN THEATRE | District Defiance on 28 September 2026.]

How theatres in the nation’s capital are surviving, striving, and living to fight another day.

On Friday, June 12, after six months of President Donald Trump’s name having been affixed to the facade of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, a crowd celebrated at the Kennedy Center all day and night in anticipation of the name’s removal, at a judge’s order—though a tarp covered the letters as they were removed in the early hours of June 13. (At presstime, the tarp still stood.)

But while those shenanigans captured national attention, on the local level, D.C. theatres have been busy charting a path forward, no matter the resident of White House. Earlier this summer, when Washington, D.C., mayoral hopeful Janeese Lewis George [b. 1988; Democrat; currently a member of the Council of the District of Columbia] met arts leaders in a forum at the Studio Theatre, she shared a desire for the arts to be “one of the biggest economic drivers of our community,” and was admirably responsive to leaders’ questions and concerns.

In short, theatremakers in the D.C./Maryland/Virginia (DMV) area are surviving and striving. From programming that taps into the political zeitgeist to more spaces dedicated to new work, they are taking matters into their own hands, exercising their right to speak out and cultivate an artistic community that can actively respond to the moment.

Stability and Controversy

D.C. theatre has become a “stable landscape” in the past decade [see “‘Stages in DC’ (Summer 1985)” (25 December 2011) for the background of theater in Nation’s Capital], said Theatre Washington president and CEO Amy Austin. By 2015, she noted, “Not only did you have established leaders, but you had a lot of emerging leaders who are still here,” citing such small theatres as NextStop, Flying V, and others that opened in the mid-2010s, following 1990s and 2000s troupes like Rorschach and Constellation. “We kept that landscape through the pandemic.”

The region’s larger theatres have persisted too. According to Austin, the Small Professional Theatre (SPT) and League of Resident Theatre (LORT) companies that reopened post-Covid haven’t faced the closures or mergers that have plagued other theatre scenes. “We were very concerned about it,” Austin said. “Everybody was aware that it was happening nationally, but it didn’t happen here. That’s a significant statement about Washington theatre’s vitality, resilience, and collaboration.”

[LORT is a collective bargaining association for U.S. non-profit resident or regional theaters to negotiate with Actors’ Equity Association, the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society, and United Scenic Artists.  Membership in LORT is based solely on financial scale.  SPT refers specifically to a standardized national contract developed by AEA—the other theater unions use their own frameworks to accommodate smaller budgets and venues (though Equity sets the standard for how other live entertainment unions scale down their rates to support small professional companies)—and bridges the gap between amateur community theater and large-scale, high-budget regional theater.]

According to the leaders of Round House Theatre in Bethesda, Maryland, its past four years have also been the four highest-grossing seasons in the theatre’s 50-year history. Both Round House (with a $10 million budget) and Arlington, Virginia’s Signature (a $16 million budget) saw surpluses in the millions in the 2025 fiscal year. “The thing that drives audiences here is the sense that theatre is a form of civic engagement,” said artistic director Ryan Rilette, now approaching his 15th season at Round House. “The audience is smart enough and politically dialed in enough that they yearn for those conversations.”

[There are a number of reports on productions at the Round House on this blog. Arlington’s Signature Theatre, founded in 1989, is best-known for its high-quality musical productions. (In 2009, the company established the annual Stephen Sondheim Award to honor “those who have contributed to the works of Stephen Sondheim and the canon of American Musical Theater.”)  The Virginia Signature shouldn’t be confused with New York City’s Off-Broadway Signature Theatre Company, founded in 1991.  It’s best known for devoting each entire season to one dramatist's work.]

At Mosaic Theater, Reginald L. Douglas is entering his fifth season as artistic director. He came into the position after the theatre’s founding artistic director, Ari Roth [see “The First Amendment & The Arts, Redux” (13 February 2015)], resigned in the wake of a staff revolt. Mosaic, whose budget is close to $3 million, has seen record-breaking box office numbers (last season’s Young John Lewis [2025; new score debut at Mosaic, 2026] was reportedly its highest-selling show ever). What matters more to Douglas is its expanded community engagement.

“Mosaic strives to live up to our name, which is what happens when you bring different communities, cultures, and perspectives together through dialogue,” Douglas said. “We want to do that more intentionally throughout all of D.C.” 

Others lament that a drop in federal funding and foundation giving has not been made up by corporate and individual support. At Adventure Theatre MTC, a Theatre for Young Audiences company in Maryland’s Glen Echo Park, artistic director Kurt Boehm said that the $2-million company is currently just $70,000 away from a surplus—the closest in his three years. “We’re doing it with the bare bones that we can until this organization is back on the path of surplus every year,” he said. That will be a feat for a company with a 10-person staff, restored after allegations surfaced in 2022 of unsafe workplace practices under previous leadership. 

Another theatre in recovery is Spooky Action Theater, whose artistic director Richard Henrich left in 2022 after reports of alleged toxic behavior. Under the new artistic director, Elizabeth Dinkova, the company, which has an annual budget of $319,000, has leaned into resistance and immigrant voices, with at least one international play every season.

“I joke sometimes that the programming philosophy of Spooky Action is, if our theatre closes with this show, we will feel like it was the most exciting and meaningful thing to do, and we’ll go down happy,” Dinkova said. “Luckily, we’re nowhere near closing. We’re actually in a better position than we’ve been in many, many years.”

Larger theatres haven’t been spared from controversy. One issue: local hiring. At Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, (which has a $5.7 million budget), former artistic director Maria Manuela Goyanes pioneered a model where the theatre could be a launching pad for solo shows and a space for festivals. “While that was important, the gap it unintentionally created was a dearth of jobs for local artists,” said new artistic director Reggie D. White. “Solo shows come with people attached to them. The things that make it financially nimble also make it difficult for local artists.”

White said he’s “doubling down on space and opportunity for folks in our company,” with a commitment to featuring at least one company member in every show in the upcoming season. This includes Jared Mezzocchi, who will direct the world premiere of Matt Schatz’s Bobby Robotowitz [2026] next spring, in a co-production with Pittsburgh’s City Theatre.

The city’s oldest and largest theatre is also the site of the most dramatic local episode in memory, with repercussions felt not only locally but nationally: the apparently forced resignation, in late June, of Arena Stage artistic director Hana S. Sharif, just three years after she succeeded longtime leader Molly Smith. Complaints about her management at Arena (budget size: $30 million) soon surfaced in a series of news reports, though these were contradicted by glowing testimonials from peers and colleagues, including White, who worked closely with her at Arena before taking the job at Woolly.

Meanwhile, in early 2026, Arena’s production and box office workers voted to join IATSE [International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees] for better wages and working conditions. The historic LORT company has only announced a partial 2026-27 season, and plans an artistic director search this fall.

Subversive Levity

Sharif was among a cohort of new artistic directors at D.C. theatres in the past decade, including Simon Godwin at Shakespeare Theatre Company, Matthew Gardiner at Signature Theatre, and Folger Theatre’s Karen Ann Daniels (though at presstime she was on medical leave, with longtime associate director of programming and director of producing Beth Emelson serving as interim director of artistic programs). Another of them, Mosaic’s Douglas, spoke about striking a balance of entertainment, empathy, and challenge in his theatre’s programming. 

[There are several play reports on Rick On Theater of productions at Shakespeare Theatre.  The referenced Folger Theater, which performs in the Elizabethan Theatre at the Folger Shakespeare Memorial Library, shouldn’t be confused with the Folger Theatre Group, a precursor of the Shakespeare Theatre and on whose board my father sat.  See “Theater Boards” (11 December 2022); a brief synopsis of the history of the Shakespeare Theatre is in the afterword to “Much Ado About Nothing: A ‘Recovered’ Report” (20 March 2021).]

Douglas said he often hears that “audiences perhaps are a little overwhelmed, but artists are buzzing inside with a desire to let their art be revolutionary,” he said. “This past year of the National Guard being here, of ICE raids, of seeing so much stress in the city—the best way to combat that is to put artists at the center. Speaking up is hope enough. You become an example of what it means to speak out, to stand up, to affirm that we are D.C. in a time when it feels really compromised.”

To that end, Douglas has commissioned four local artists to reflect on what it’s meant to live in D.C. under quasi-occupation, using various theatrical forms: plays, poems, sound design/music composition, and more. That series opens the season, along with a production of Somewhere Over the Border [2022] by Brian Quijada, a twist on The Wizard of Oz making its D.C. premiere, which Douglas hopes resonates for its celebration of “the resilience of immigrant communities and joy as resistance.” Mosaic’s upcoming world premieres include Natural History [January-February 2027] by Collin Van Son and Paige Hernandez’s 7th Street Echo [March-April 2027], whose characters represent all four quadrants of D.C.

For its part, Woolly Mammoth is presenting five world premieres that have in common what White called “subversive levity.” He explained, “After being inundated with the cortisol spike of political news, it’s good to be welcomed into an alternate experience through humor that cracks open deeper curiosity and a lot of heart.” Though none of the plays he’s programmed “are about the current political climate,” he knows that “as a Black queer man, the personal is the political. Giving stories dignity is political.” 

Theater J, the city’s Jewish-focused theatre, also has a history of producing new work, particularly under Hayley Finn, who started as artistic director in 2023 and immediately ramped up new-play development, including an Expand the Canon program that commissions Jewish writers of color, as well as Mizrahi and Sephardi Jewish writers. This season’s world premiere, American Girls [March-April 2027] by Emily Feldman, is about a Jewish woman and a Muslim woman coming to terms with the ways the events of Oct. 7, and the ensuing Israel/Palestine war, affect their friendship. 

[Sephardim are Jews from Spain, Portugal, Turkey, and North Africa (from the word that in modern Hebrew is the name for Spain). Mizrahim (or Mizrachim) are Jews from the Middle East, Central Asia, and the Caucasus; the name, which derives from the Hebrew word for ‘easterners,’ refers today, especially in Israel, to Jews from Muslim-majority lands, especially Arabic countries and Iran. There’s a slightly more detailed discussion of these and other Jewish populations in “Crypto-Jews: Legacy of Secrecy” (15 September 2009).]

“I’m interested in telling new stories that are relevant to our community, and thinking about that through an expansive lens,” Finn said. “The programming has been rather diverse in terms of how it looks at the mission, both around the complexity and nuance of Jewish identity, and also ethical questions of our time that sit in conversation with that.”

At Round House, a second Trump administration and attacks on DEI led to a “deepening of values,” according to Rilette, reminding them of their mission to be a “theatre for everyone.” Its upcoming season includes regional premieres of Alex Lin’s Chinese Republicans [2026] and Leslye Headland’s Cult of Love [2018], but last year’s production of Heidi Schreck’s What the Constitution Means to Me [2017] may be a telling example: Rilette programmed it before he knew the outcome of the 2024 election.

“If it were Kamala, it would be a strong feminist piece, and if it were Trump, it would be an anti-Trump piece, to a certain extent,” he said. Well, we all know how that went, but director Morgan Gould took it a step further: She asked Schreck to change the text to reflect more recent Supreme Court and presidential actions, so that at Round House, the play began at the moment Trump started signing a flurry of executive orders in January 2025.

In the last three years, Spooky Action’s Dinkova said she has been as interested in innovations in theatrical form as in content, and above all making work “that feels essential and necessary to conversations taking place in our city and the world.” She said she believes in “building solidarity around shared struggles. We need to invest in bigger movements.”

At Adventure, Boehm said, “We can’t, as a nonprofit, state our political beliefs, but through the art I want here, we can make a statement,” he said. He pointed to She Persisted [2019], Adam Tobin and Deborah Wicks La Puma’s stage adaptation of Chelsea Clinton’s book about American women trailblazers [She Persisted: 13 American Women Who Changed the World (Findaway World, 2019)], as “the perfect example of how we will make a statement, but not say, ‘Here’s the party I believe in.’”

Adventure dedicates its first slot every season to a new work, for which they apply for grants from the National Endowment for the Arts. It has paid off: When they applied with Not Your Mother’s Goose! [2025], an irreverent new take on nursery rhymes by Michael J. Bobbitt and Sandra Eskin, Boehm said he told his managing director, Sarah Chapin, “If they don’t fund Not Your Mother’s Goose!, what the hell are they funding?” They received the grant, and five Helen Hayes awards.

[The Helen Hayes Awards are Washington’s recognition of excellence in professional theater. Hayes (1900-93), known as the “First Lady of American Theatre,” was a native Washingtonian.]

Clearly, D.C. theatremakers are rising to the challenge of new work. When Rilette first arrived 15 years ago, he said that Washington Post critic Peter Marks told him, “We don’t have a lot of new work here the way that New York does,” believing it was “more challenging here.” Now, Rilette says, “I think that is changing. It seems like there are more and more world premieres, there’s more and more development taking place. That probably has to do with the fact that our theatres are continuing to get bigger at a time when [those in] other cities are struggling to survive.”

Community and Connection

According to Amy Austin, one key to D.C.’s strength is that its artists “don’t tend to look at each other as competitors, but as collaborators.” Indeed, despite a series of devastating losses—Capital Fringe [2005-19; 2022-24] and the Kennedy Center’s REACH residencies [2019-26], Page to Stage Festival [2001-19], and Local Theatre Festival [2023-25]—a hearteningly cooperative festival and new-work culture has emerged in their wake. 

[The Capital Fringe Festival ceased operation for financial reasons.  The Page to Stage Festival shut down because of COVID-19 and didn’t reopen; it was later replaced, however, by the Local Theatre Festival—but that was closed by the KC board in the turmoil that followed Trump’s take-over of the Center’s governing board.  The REACH residencies were suspended due to Trump’s precipitous closure of the Center for “renovations.”]

To wit, this past winter saw Ford’s A First Look festival and the Folger’s Reading Room Festival; Theater Alliance’s Hothouse Festival; Studio’s first New Pages, New Stages Festival with Arena, Theater Alliance, Theater J (come 2027, Olney Theatre Center, Spooky Action, and Woolly Mammoth join the mix), and Solas Nua; and Round House’s National Capital New Play Festival. May and June had Theater J’s “Festival of Favorites and Firsts” and Woolly’s Playwrights Group Showcase. Mosaic’s Engaged Theater Fund has been bringing community organizations to new-play readings. Olney’s Vanguard Arts Fund offering workshops for artists has also been a staple of the scene since 2017. And Capital Fringe has been revitalized as a new District Fringe since last summer.

For Studio Theatre’s Jess Chayes—who spearheaded New Pages, New Stages after joining as associate artistic director last fall—collaborating with partner theatres made a great welcome. In the future, they hope to partner with different theatres each year, including the small and mid-sized companies that are carving out new spaces, resources, and communities.

One area where D.C.’s new-work focus has been in particular danger has been in plays for young people, due to the suspension of Kennedy Center’s award-winning TYA [Theater for Young Audiences] company. But as in other sectors, artists aren’t taking it lying down. One former KCTYA staffer, Michelle Kozlak, has founded a new company, Joy Play Heart Productions, which will produce Fishing for Stars [March 2027], a nonverbal devised piece originally commissioned by KCTYA, at 1st Stage in Tysons, Virginia [a D.C. suburb], in March 2027; a national tour with TYA Tour Development Collective seed funding will follow.

[The Kennedy Center Theater for Young Audiences (KCTYA) was established in 1986. In October 2025, its full-time leadership departed due to the controversial restructuring (internal discord, severe budget cuts, and institutional downsizing under a new KC board) and ultimate physical shutdown of the entire Kennedy Center complex, and the upcoming seasons were officially defunded.]

“I spent most of the fall being so sad and in a grief place, not being able to move on with a job that I loved,” Kozlak said. “I thought: I could sit here and be sad, or I could do something about it.” Added Adventure’s Boehm of the loss of KCTYA: “It’s our house, and we will have it back. What happened is just egregiously wrong.”

As D.C.’s theatre artists continue to defy both the odds and the current regime, these words from Professor Woland’s Black Magic Rock Show, a production of Spooky Action [premiered, 2025], may provide inspiration:

When the real demons come for you, will you stay silent or will you sing? Sing! Will you lay down and take it or will you rise? Rise! Will you quit or will you fight? Fight!

[Professor Woland’s Black Magic Rock Show, directed and co-written by Elizabeth Dinkova with a book by Jesse Rasmussen, music by Michael Pemberton, and lyrics by Michael and Andrea Pemberton, is an anti-authoritarian rock musical inspired by Mikhail Bulgakov’s (1891-1940) banned 1930s Russian novel The Master and Margarita. It explores the potency of speaking truth to power, the triumph of love over oppression, and the reality that “manuscripts don’t burn.”  Its Spooky Action premiere won critical praise and several Helen Hayes Awards.]

[As I noted above, the second AT article on regional theater, covering the Los Angeles scene, will be posted on Thursday, 8 October 2026.  Please come back to ROT on that date to read the next installment of “A Tale of Three Cities.”]

[Daniella Ignacio is associate editor for American Theatre.  She is an arts journalist, actor, music director, and teaching artist in the D.C. area.  She also reviews for DC Theater Arts and Washington City Paper.]


30 September 2026

'Good Night, and Good Luck' (CNN, 7 June 2025) – Part 3

 

[As with the previous installment, Part 3 of “Good Night, and Good Luck (CNN, 7 June 2025)” picks up right where Part 2 left off.  It’s been my practice to include a review survey in my performance reports, and Part 3 of this serialized report is devoted to the published critiques of the play. 

[I nevertheless urge readers who’ve just joined this series to go back to Thursday, 24 September, and Sunday, 27 September, and read the first installments before reading the final one.  Since GNGL is based on history that goes back to 1954, I have inserted commentary to define, identify, or explain references with which some visitors to Rick On Theater may not be familiar.  I haven’t, however, repeated those comments from the first two parts in the continuation below.  Part 3 won’t make a lot of sense without having read Parts 1 and 2.]

GOOD NIGHT, AND GOOD LUCK LIVE: CNN SPECIAL EVENT
(Continued)

The press response to GNGL was mixed.  (There weren’t any reviews specifically relating to the CNN telecast.)  Johnny Oleksinski of the New York Post opens with:

“Good Night, and Good Luck,” the play that opened Thursday at the Winter Garden Theatre, is a big story with a huge set and an enormous star.

So it comes as a surprise that the impression left by the dusty historical drama as the audience pours out onto Broadway is so small and fleeting.  Good Night, and What’s For Dinner?

Characterizing the play as an “attractive but empty show” and calling it a “schlep” [for those not up on their Yiddishisms: a drag], Oleksinski admits, “I enjoyed looking at the massive and elaborate TV studio and retro suits for a while,” then slams the production with: “But you can’t light a damp log.”

Clooney’s “time-capsule performance is assured, confident . . . as he delivers stone-faced monologues straight to the lens.”  The Post reviewer adds, “He succeeds about as well as the beige script allows him to,” for which he blames the playwright: “Clooney the writer has not been so generous to Clooney the actor. The part is milquetoast, like a sanded-down version of Atticus Finch who speaks with the repetitive calm of a hypnotist.”

“He’s even-keeled and professional to a fault,” Oleksinski asserts, “as if gunning for sainthood.  That might have been the honest case with Murrow, but figureheads are less fascinating than fleshed-out people.  They need to find their humanity.”

Paul Gross is “terrific” as Paley and the cast “all . . . do good work,” but “are treated as little more than set dressing.”

In conclusion, the Post reviewer finds “A traumatic and consequential chapter in American history becomes nostalgic, and few things are deadlier onstage than nostalgia.”  He goes on to say,

During the last few minutes, the play switches into strident lecture mode and projects a flurry of clips . . . .  It’s unnecessary and obvious; shoveling textureless meaning into the trough.  By the end, “Good Night, and Good Luck” manages what evening news shows have reliably done for decades: It makes the viewer sleepy.

In the New York Times, Jesse Green, who describes the play as “a slender, swift and healthy exercise in hagiography, burnishing its saints and martyrs to a high sheen,” declares that “when the entire cast of 22 is onstage at once, freaking out while counting down to a live broadcast, you feel the excitement of a let’s-put-on-a-show musical.”

The Timesman pronounces Glenn Fleshler (Friendly) and Paul Gross (Paley) “terrific,” and labels Clark Gregg (Hollenbeck) “an excellent actor.”  David Cromer’s direction is “suave” and Scott Pask’s set is “huge and infinitely reconfiguring.”

Green’s conclusion about the play is somewhat dichotomous, however:

I wish “Good Night, and Good Luck” were more often . . . subjective.  Instead, influenced by Murrow’s example, it keeps things mostly cool and concrete. . . .  Probably this was wise; when the show suddenly gets hot at the end, with a montage of television news since the 1950s, it feels overheated.  Preachers preaching to the converted usually do.

In a later Times article, James Poniewozik says that “the play is mainly a warning about the media business, as well as a tribute to the power of TV.”  He concludes, “As a drama, ‘Good Night, and Good Luck’ is decent and earnest, the equivalent of a well-crafted pay-cable docu-movie.  But as an alarm, its tone is keening and its timing supernaturally perfect.”  Of the central performance, Poniewozik finds “Clooney’s Murrow is heroically all-business.  He is analytical and dispassionate; the most heated thing about him is the glowing tip of the cigarette that precedes him onstage.”

The Los Angeles Times was the only outlet that ran a TV-explicit review.  Robert Lloyd, the television critic, declares that on Saturday, 4 June 2025, “‘Good Night, and Good Luck’ . . . became a Major Television Event.”  He avers that televising plays is “a great practice; I wish it were done more often.”

As I quote him earlier, however, Lloyd labels the telecast a “stunt.”  On the positive side, though, the LA Times reviewer adds that

it offered the groundlings at home the chance to see a much-discussed, well-reviewed production only a relatively few were able to see in person—which I applaud on principal and enjoyed in practice—and which will very probably not come again, not counting the next day’s final performance.

Characterized as “a combination of political and backstage drama,” “the play’s discussions of habeas corpus, due process, self-censoring media and the both-sides-ism that seems increasingly to afflict modern media feel queasily contemporary.” 

Lloyd offers a differentiation between a film and a live theater performance:

Though modern stage productions, with their computer-controlled modular parts, can replicate the rhythms and scene changes of a film, there are obvious differences between a movie, where camera angles and editing drive the story. It’s an illusion of life, stitched together from bits and pieces.  A stage play proceeds in real time and offers a single view (differing, of course, depending on where one sits), within which you direct your attention as you will.  What illusions it offers are, as it were, stage magic.  It’s choreographed, like a dance, which actors must repeat night after night, putting feeling into lines they may speak to one another, but send out to the farthest corners of the theater.

He seems to overlook, despite his status as a TV reviewer, that some of that liveness is lost when the theater performance is viewed through TV cameras and a television screen.

Lloyd finds that “Clooney, whose furrowed brow is a good match for Murrow’s, did not attempt to imitate him, or perhaps did within the limits of theatrical delivery; he was serious and effective in the role . . .” and declares Clark Gregg as Don Hollenbeck “very moving in the only role with an emotional arc.”

He characterizes Scott Pask‘s set as

an ingenious moving modular arrangement of office spaces, backed by a control room, highlighted or darkened as needs be . . . .  Though television squashed the production into two dimensions, the broadcast nevertheless felt real and exciting . . . .

He reports that “director David Comer let the camera play on the players, rather than trying for a cinematic effect through an excess of close-ups and cutaways.”

In a line reminiscent to me of Melina Mercouri’s Ilya in Jules Dassin’s 1960 Never on Sunday, Lloyd brings up “the curtain call, to remind you that whatever came before, the actors are fine, drinking in your appreciation and sending you out happy and exhilarated and perhaps full of hope.”

(As New York Times film reviewer Bosley Crowther observed in 1960, Ilya, a patron of Greek stage tragedies, “won’t believe Medea kills her children.  After all, don’t they come out on the stage for curtain calls.”)

Naveen Kumar of the Washington Post reports, “History often repeats on Broadway, where revivals and remakes dominate over the new.  But the stage adaptation of “Good Night, and Good Luck” . . . speaks so directly to the present moment that if the story weren’t true—and the film hadn’t already been made in 2005 — it would seem almost pandering.”

He continues:

the docudrama is a sobering yet galvanizing account of how civil society has previously responded to threats from the top.  The hero’s tale with a ramrod moral center . . . will be catnip for certain beleaguered crowds desperate for a shred of hope.

What they’ll get is a handsome and sensuously detailed production, from director David Cromer, that elevates the grubby busywork of reporting the news into a finely choreographed art. Call it a rallying cry for integrity from both the media and the masses.

Clooney’s Murrow, says Kumar, “is dry and unflappable with a perpetually furrowed brow, a slicked side part . . . and an earnest, steady gaze.”  Clooney is “cautious and contained—due to his character’s strict composure . . . .” 

The WaPo review-writer describes Scott Pask’s set as an “appealingly analog television studio,” Heather Gilbert’s lighting as “warm but noirish,” and Brenda Abbandandolo’s “mid-century office wear” as “sharp.”

In USA Today, Patrick Ryan dubs GNGL “a well-timed warning about the threat of McCarthyism with all the subtlety of a jackhammer.” 

“Clooney acquits himself admirably as Murrow,” writes Ryan.  “He unflappably captures Murrow’s stoic charm and steady cadence, and his direct-to-camera monologues about courage and conviction earn dutiful applause from the starstruck audience.”

The USA Today review-writer determines that Clooney “is buttressed by a commendable supporting cast, who make the most of what little they have to work with.”  He singles out Clark Gregg as Don Hollenbeck and Ilana Glazer as Shirley Wershba for specific commendation.

“The production is handsomely crafted with elaborate sets by Scott Pask and smartly tailored costumes from Brenda Abbandandolo,” reports Ryan.  “Unfortunately, they’re let down by director David Cromer . . ., who only fleetingly captures the electricity that makes any good journalism drama tick.  Rarely do we ever feel the frenzied rush of bringing a broadcast to air,” laments the reviewer.

Ryan, however, also voices a major disappointment: “Where ‘Good Night’ missteps is in its stage adaptation, or rather, the lack thereof.  For anyone who has watched the film recently, it’s striking how little has been done to bring this story into a new medium.”  He complains that the script shows “little interest in probing Murrow’s interior life or deepening the relationships between characters.”

“Clooney’s intentions are completely admirable,” Ryan assures us.  “And yet, ‘Good Night’ only dares to say what we already know, underlined in red ink with umpteen exclamation points.”  The writer concludes:

There’s something smugly satisfied about the whole exercise, which ultimately talks down to its audience and assumes we can’t connect the dots.  “Good Night, and Good Luck” aims to be a hard-hitting story about accountability and checks on power, but all that ever comes through is dead air.

That’s radio and TV jargon for an unintended interruption in a broadcast during which nothing is transmitted.

The Wall Street Journal’s Charles Isherwood dubs GNGL “the stylish but stolid stage adaptation—transcription might be a more apt term—of the 2005 movie . . . .”  The WSJ review-writer affirms that “for those who saw the movie—I assume a considerable portion of the audience—the theatrical version offers little that's fresh, or even more fully fleshed out.”

Isherwood finds that Clooney “gives an excellent, self-effacingly modest performance.  He portrays Murrow . . . with a stark, almost grim sense of seriousness and wary courage . . . .”   He adds, however, that “while the supporting cast is uniformly fine, few have significant amounts of stage time.”

Singled out, he observes,

As Don Hollenbeck, . . . Clark Gregg turns in a brief but quietly moving performance.  Glenn Fleshler brings wry humor . . . to his role as the producer Friendly.  Paul Gross has a stately presence as CBS chief William Paley . . . .

“The talented director, David Cromer,” asserts Isherwood,

works feverishly to fill the ample Winter Garden Theatre stage with background movement to complement the generally brief scenes in the foreground.  But the production never breaks free of the source material to become a captivating or original theatrical event . . . .

The review-writer adds that “the cast . . . has little to do except fill the stage with movement . . . .”

Isherwood concludes by musing that

while the stage show is, like the movie, admirably free of plain preaching or righteous fictionalized speeches, audiences attending are likely to be coming from two camps: rabid fans of Mr. Clooney who can afford the staggeringly high prices (many tickets sell for $800), or those who share Mr. Clooney's liberal political views and can afford those ticket prices.  Or is that just one camp?

In any case, few among them are going to come away enlightened—or even consistently entertained.

In Good Night, and Good Luck, “Clooney leads a proficient, if stiff, Broadway adaptation of his directorial debut,” declares The Guardian’s Adrian Horton.  “Clooney and his longtime creative partner Grant Heslov have clearly altered their original script with an eye for the current climate,” Horton observes, “in ways ranging from natural to forced . . . .  From the minute Clooney steps on stage as the celebrated war correspondent with authoritative bearing, the production resounds with pious reverence, the preponderance of Good History.”

“There’s an echo quality to the stage version—imitative, resonant but hollower than the original,” reports the Guardian reviewer.  “That’s partly an issue of medium; the film flowed nimbly between whirring camera and tight closeups . . . .  The play necessarily relies on a macro view that, in comparison, feels rigid and affected.”

“The show also makes an uneasy compromise on medium, betting too much on television,” asserts Horton.  “Cromer stages each of Murrow’s verbatim broadcasts with Clooney facing perpendicular to the audience,” explaining, “But it keeps him at a curious, cold remove.”

“There is . . . an ebb and flow to witnessing Good Night, and Good Luck on stage,” Sara Holdren tells us in her Vulture/New York magazine review, “as the potency of its content only intermittently melds with the capacities of its form.”

Later, Holdren demurs somewhat, adding that “there’s something a touch too shaggy in [the play’s] current theatricality to keep us consistently attuned to its turns and its stakes.”

“Cromer’s stage picture yearns and glows,” reports Holdren, but the director “has to enliven a still highly cinematic script in a wide-open theatrical space; the result is that Good Night almost immediately starts to diffuse.”

Scott Pask’s set is “meticulously researched,” the New York magazine reviewer finds, but “[t]he production’s palette is perhaps its purest triumph: a gorgeous sepia-to-gold-leaning universe, evoking cinematic black-and-white while infusing it with a warm pulse.”  Brenda Abbandandolo has costumed the cast in a “spot-on profusion of pencil skirts and pinstripes.”

Clooney, asserts Holdren, “carries [a] sense of responsibility onto the stage.  He’s not exactly dazzling, but that’s not the point: Murrow’s charisma lay in his gravity, his wry composure and his absolute refusal to break under pressure.  Clooney has that solidity and resolve . . . .” 

Of the cast, the review-writer finds “Paul Gross is a highlight as CBS’s cagey chief, Bill Paley, but [Carter] Hudson and [Ilana] Glazer can’t hook us, and Glazer in particular struggles to find definition for Shirley [Wershba]. 

“[T]here are brilliant theater actors like Will Dagger (playing Don Hewitt, ‘See It Now’’s stressed-out director) getting a little lost in the swirl of Camels and khakis,” observes Holdren.  “He pops out now and then, delightful as always . . . .”

In The New Yorker, Helen Shaw says,

Clooney is certainly graceful.  He looks just right in the elegant swing of nineteen-fifties trousers—Brenda Abbandandolo designed the costumes—and he excels, as he has for more than thirty years, at communicating a winning kind of weary resolve.  But theatrical acoustics can be unforgiving, especially with an actor who tends to swallow his lines, however slyly.  Accordingly, to capture Clooney’s charisma, the production relies on closeups, shot live onstage by a bulky CBS camera and projected onto a large screen near the audience.  It’s a strategy with diminishing returns, though it does allow us to see the strain in Clooney’s eyes when Murrow feels the pressure.

The co-writers “are too accustomed to telling half their story through visuals, and some scenes needed more of an overhaul for such a different dramatic form.”  Furthermore, “despite many cross-stage entrances, Cromer fails to bring the film’s sense of bustling movement to the stage.”

Dalton Ross’s Entertainment Weekly notice echoes much of the criticism of the script, reporting that “while the story may be as timely and important as ever, the adaptation feels somewhat constrained by its reliance on the medium it celebrates and, by the end of the show, skewers.”  He characterizes the stage version of GNGL as “a pretty much verbatim retelling of the film, which is both a strength and a weakness” and gives the production a grade of B.

 “Clooney acquits himself well,” Ross says, “delivering the anchor’s steely yet dispassionate ‘just the facts, ma’am’ demeanor with defiant restraint.”  Then Ross makes a point I think I made, too: 

If only he were delivering it directly to the audience.  Instead, the star is often tucked into a corner of the set looking away from the seats and to a camera, which then transmits the image to a giant screen in the middle of the stage along with 10 monitors along the perimeter.  Sure, the choice makes narrative sense considering the medium—putting theatergoers into a 1950s living room setting to receive the transmission much as viewers did back then—but, like, isn’t that what the film is for?  Wouldn’t this stage-set Murrow delivering his broadcast directly to the audience be a fresher and more emotionally connecting take?

Ross praises “Scott Pask’s deep and clever set design” which provides “a well-designed stage.”  Among the cast, he spotlights “[t]he always great Clark Gregg [who] adds tragic anxiety . . . as Don Hollenbeck . . . [and] Fran Kranz [as] the guy [Palmer Williams] waiting to find out if his past associations will doom both him and his work on the show.”

Like several other reviewers, Ross finds “the side story about Ilana Glazer and Carter Hudson [the Wershbas] . . . hiding their marriage from the rest of the newsroom still feels undercooked and a bit divorced from the thrust of the show.”

When Ross follows Paley’s line I quote above (what happens to “news with a dash of commentary . . . when it isn’t Edward R. Murrow minding the store?”) to its logical conclusion, however, he affirms we get “a new ending for the stage that forces the audience to examine the media, the medium, and ourselves just as harshly as any politician.” 

He’s referring to the news-clip montage, and he’s one of the few reviewers who found benefit in it.  The EW writer pronounces it “the one time in which the almost omnipresent screen does something truly inventive and surprising.”

So surprising as to lead to audible audience gasps.  Let’s just say this production of Good Night, and Good Luck won’t likely be playing the new Kennedy Center anytime soon.

And that was written more than a year before the current state of the Kennedy Center under Donald Trump.

“Whatever gains are made in reworking George Clooney’s terrific 2005 feature of the same name . . . for the stage,” asserts David Rooney in the Hollywood Reporter, “the material’s timeliness packs a wallop . . . —even if the play itself is a flawed vehicle.”  He complains that “the drama at times seems almost as educational as it is theatrical . . . .”

“David Cromer’s deluxe production remains classy, absorbing entertainment,” Rooney reports.  “It conjures the professional milieu with evocative detail and captures the grit and backbone of a news team at a time before the major networks lost their exclusivity with the fragmentation of the information landscape.”

“Clooney leans hard into the gravitas with a constantly furrowed brow,” finds the HR reviewer, “tamping down his movie-star magnetism in a vanity-free performance.  It’s a creditable Broadway debut . . ., though perhaps a touch too muted to give the play the dynamic center it needs.”

The “transfer from screen to stage [of Good Night, and Good Luck] is as intense and laser-focused as the penetrating gaze coming from its star and co-writer, George Clooney,” says Frank Rizzo of Variety.  “Clooney has a deeply felt command of character and a riveting presence,” Rizzo feels.

Finding virtue where other reviewers found fault, the Variety review-writer states,

But the production never veers away from the weight of its subject, themes and message.  Clooney and Heslov’s taut script stays on target, resisting any expansion of a story that clocks in a speedy 100 minutes.  It eschews overloading the narrative with personal backstories or psychological analysis, though an office romance lightens the mood and a colleague’s death darkens it.

Rizzo feels that

Director David Cromer . . . stages the production with that same unwavering focus on the essentials of the story, as the show’s immersive atmosphere effectively pulls the audience into the past.  

The reviewer reports, “With a kind of theater vérité, Cromer fills the monochromatic bunker of a set with a large . . . and mostly male ensemble, all bustling about with myriad tasks amid overlapping dialogue and banter. 

“These roles lean towards the generic,” observes Rizzo, ”but the savvy casting of veteran actors still manage to bring some character to their anonymity without drawing focus from the play’s principal mission.”  He spotlights “as more significant players,” some of the same “strong performances” that other notices singled out: Glenn Fleshler as Friendly, Clark Gregg as Hollenbeck, and Paul Gross as Paley.

Rizzo ends his GNGL notice affirming that the “mind-swirling, two-minute montage of flickering film clips covering 70 years of American and broadcast history . . . packs a wallop—and so does this production.”

On Timeout.com, successor to Time Out New York, Adam Feldman says, “The Broadway version of Good Night, and Good Luck . . . is in many ways unobjectionable.  It is well designed and full of fine actors doing their jobs.  Its subject is timely and its message is on point, and there’s no need to see it.”

After criticizing the high price of tickets to the show, the man from TONY adds that “consumers should be warned that nothing in this production is better than what you can get at home by renting the movie for $3.99.”

That’s because, in nearly every regard, Clooney and Heslov have just plopped their screenplay onstage and called it a play. . . .  The extent of the faithfulness is, at times, jaw-dropping.

In a point others also made, Feldman observes, “In the movie . . ., the camera fills in a lot of blanks . . , .  That can’t happen in the same way onstage, but Clooney and Heslov have made no effort to translate those moments into language and ideas.”  Cromer and the cast are left “to make the story come alive, and they do what they can.”

Clooney “acquits himself credibly” and Feldman compliments Fleshler for hit[ting] all the right notes.  The Time Out reviewer also names Hudson, Glazer, Gregg, and Kranz, but dismisses “[t]he rest of the large cast [which] doesn’t do much except mill about.

Pask’s bilevel set is “excellent” and “beautifully lit by Heather Gilbert.”

Feldman sums up his experience of the play by pronouncing,

What Good Night, and Good Luck demonstrates is that the line between enjoyment and civics is blurred.  Some people do want a civics lesson; tut-tutting gravely at the state of the world can make a play seem important, even when it’s just recycling.  But what if that's just another form of entertainment and insulation?

The review-writer ends with a few questions:

Will this play, sincerely intended and handsomely mounted though it may be, change any minds about the downward drift of mass media in America?  Or will it merely contribute to Broadway’s drift toward exorbitantly pricey events that rely on star casting?  That’s the $799 [the top GNGL ticket price] question.  For producers of this show, it might not matter either way.  For everyone else, Good Night, and Good Luck is probably bad news.

On TheaterMania, David Gordon condemns GNGL bluntly:

Created with honorable moral intentions, Clooney and Heslov’s dramatic adaptation of Good Night, and Good Luck lands at the Winter Garden Theatre without much urgency.  An empty reassembly of their screenplay, with period chicness substituting for tension, the play doesn’t trust the audience to see the parallels between past and present, creating little more than a well-intentioned echo chamber instead of a gripping 90-minutes of theater.

Gordon, however, lauds the physical production, which he says “immerses us in this grayscale world at the dawn of television”:

Scott Pask and props supervisors Ray Wetmore and JR Goodman have meticulously rebuilt the CBS broadcast center at Grand Central Station, with office spaces and bullpens, control rooms and editing bays, and a stunning half-arched window that looms over the action.  Brenda Abbandandolo costumes the men in the kind of vintage, to-die-for suits that we wish we could afford, while Heather Gilbert’s hanging halogen lamps provide hot studio lighting.

He complains that the “verité, quasi-documentary style worked on celluloid,” but “[i]t’s more indelicate on stage, where director David Cromer forces us to watch them on a giant floating screen that deliberately obscures the action.”

The TM reviewer finds that “beyond the production’s gorgeous aesthetic, there isn’t much to see in this tale . . . .  Clooney and Heslov aren’t playwrights; they’re creatures of the silver screen who haven’t figured out how to translate this important and noble story into a different medium.”

Of the directing, Gordon asserts that “Cromer tries to keep up with the cinematic style, but the result is clumsy.”

Sections of dialogue are lost without a cinematographer showing who to look at; instead, we just have a gaggle of people talking over each other, stepping on cues.  Characters come and go without much differentiation . . . .

The review-writer has the same complaint about the Hudson-Glazer subplot about the Wershbas—that it “barely registers”—that we’ve seen in other notices, and he praises Gregg’s Hollenbeck while panning Glazer’s Shirley Wershba as “dismal.”  He rather dismisses the rest as a “collection of fine New York stage regulars—Fran Kranz, Christopher Denham, Will Dagger, Andrew Polk—[who] are caught in the middle, their impact fading in real time like the smoke from their ever-present cigarettes.”

Gordon concludes with the admonition that “Good Night, and Good Luck is a case study in how the best intentions don’t always translate into a compelling theater experience.  As Edward R. Murrow himself said, we cannot make good news out of bad practice.”

On Deadline, Greg Evans starts his notice with a fairly definite pan:

There are moments in Good Night, and Good Luck . . . when the anti-authoritarian passions of all three men [Clooney, Heslov, and Murrow] are made very clear. . . .  Unfortunately, more often than not, that clarity comes through speechifying, minor-key tirades and copious use of ’50s-era TV clips that make plain the all-too-obvious parallels between then and now.

Evans pronounces “Good Night, and Good Luck . . . too knowing or too winking by half to seem like anything other than rather uninspired agitprop.”

Despite the fact that the Deadline reviewer finds that “Clooney somehow seems smaller, more contained than he does even on smaller, more contained screens,” he reports “that the large cast—Clooney most definitely included—offer up rock-solid performances even though they, like Clooney’s outsize charm, too often get swallowed up in Scott Pask’s large, busy TV studio set design.”

“Pask,” Evans declares, “like video/projection designer David Bengali and director Cromer are among Broadway’s elite, most dependable creative teams, but even they seem undone by a plodding play that truly comes alive in fits and spurts.”

Howard Miller’s notice on Talkin’ Broadway is arguably the most positive of this whole sampling, seeing GNGL “both as a sober salute to Murrow and, less successfully, as a bully pulpit for Mr. Clooney, its co-writer and star.”  He affirms:

As directed by David Cromer, the play generally sticks to the facts (including lots of video clips of the actual persons being depicted), even as it keeps Murrow at the center.  For the most part, Good Night, and Good Luck plays out under the assumption that the audience is smart enough to follow the storyline without being spoon-fed . . . .

“Throughout, the tone is generally that of a straight-forward documentary play.”

In contrast with most of his colleagues, Miller writes, “We may not know much about many of the characters who buzz around the TV studio (the vast, two-level, businesslike and industrial-looking facility was designed by Scott Pask), but we are quite able to get the gist of who they are.”  He proceeds to single out two of the same actors for praise as those colleagues, however: Fleshler and Gross.

As for Clooney, the reviewer says he “manages, at least until the final minutes of the production, to come off as a team player (all right, the captain of a team).”  Clooney “generally is there to serve the play and his character,” reports Miller.  “Applause is periodically earned, and not milked . . . .”

Miller’s one negative note, aligning with many of the other reviews, is that final video montage, of which he says:

This is perhaps meant to reinforce the message that the repressive and fear-mongering events being depicted in the play are not just an aberration, a blip in history, but something we need to continue to be on the watch for and be prepared to fight.  The thing is, everything that preceded this makes the point abundantly clear. . . .  [A]fter the grown-up approach to relating the story through the first 90 minutes of the 100-minute intermissionless play, this additional material feels unnecessarily pedantic.

[In my afterword to Part 2 of “Film Stars Twinkle,” I made some personal remarks regarding my recollection of newsman Edward R. Murrow.  There’s a tenuous family connection, so I’m going to recycle my comments. 

[I’m old enough to remember Murrow, however vaguely: Murrow died when I was over 18, so I knew the name and the renown.  I vaguely remember seeing him on television when I was a boy.  See It Now was on from 1951 to 1958, when I was between 4 and 11.  It was a news show, so I wouldn’t have been watching it for most of its run, but maybe by the time I was 10, I might have watched it when it ran on Sunday evenings at 5, but probably not often.  The McCarthy shows would have been beyond me (though I do remember being aware of the turmoil of those years).  I was only 7 when the 9 March 1954 showdown aired, and 10 when McCarthy died.

[On the other hand, Person to Person, Murrow’s entertainment show, ran from 1953 to 1961, when I was between 6 and 14, and I’m pretty sure I watched some of the later shows when Murrow would send cameras into the homes of celebrities.  I sort of remember watching some of the personalities from Hollywood and other fields—such as Liberace, a clip of whose segment is featured in the play and the 60 Minutes report, in 1956 (when I was 9) and Steve Allen and Jayne Meadows in 1955 and ’60 (when I was 8 and three days shy of 14)—as they sat in their living rooms while Murrow, back at the studio, chatted with them. 

[My circumstances may have made me a little more cognizant of some events than other children.  First, I lived in Washington, D.C.  National and international news was often local to us.  Second, I had schoolmates who were in the life, so to speak: the sons of the ambassadors from pre-Castro Cuba  and India, the grandson of General George S. Patton, Jr. (1885-1945), and the daughters of Vice President Richard Nixon (1913-94; 36th Vice President of the United States: 1953-61; 37th President of the United States: 1969-74).  Nixon ran unsuccessfully for the presidency in 1960, when I was in 8th grade and his daughters were in 7th and 9th grades at the same school.

[(There are anecdotes revealing my connection with the Cuban ambassador’s son in “Gres Gallery, Part 2” [10 July 2018] and General Patton’s grandson in “A Confluence of Coincidences” [29 January 2015].)

[Then there was that “family connection”: Murrow was my dad's first boss at the U.S. Information Agency back in the early 1960s.  (I’ve blogged about that time of my life in “An American Teen in Germany” [9 and 12 March 2013].)

[I’ve told the story of my father taking up President John F. Kennedy’s challenge to “ask what you can do for your country” in his inaugural address in 1961.  Dad was a great admirer of Kennedy (1917-63; 35th President of the United States: 1961-63), and that call inspired him to give up his good civilian job to work for the government. 

[At the same time, Dad, a newspaper reporter before he was drafted just prior to the U.S. entrance into World War II, respected Murrow both for his wartime reporting—Dad was an artillery officer in France and western Germany in the last months of the war where he almost certainly heard Murrow’s reports over the Armed Forces Radio Service (AFRS)—and his See It Now reports in the ’50s.

[JFK appointed Murrow Director of USIA on 21 March 1961 and Dad applied on 1 May—when he was 42.  He went on active service as a Foreign Service Officer on 9 July ’62.  I have no idea if the two ever actually met, though I assume the director addressed the FSO’s-to-be sometime during their training.  Murrow was the first director of USIA under whom Dad served.

[Dad went overseas in September 1962 and didn’t return to the States until he took emergency leave sometime in September 1963, when his father suffered a stroke and later died.  Murrow resigned from USIA in January ’64 due to illness and died of lung cancer in April '65.  (Dad served until 1968 under two successors to Murrow: Carl Rowan [1925-2000; 5th Director of the United States Information Agency: 1964-65], a well-known journalist, and Leonard Marks [1916-2006; 6th Director of the United States Information Agency: 1965-68], a communications lawyer.)

[I never specifically spoke to Dad about serving under Murrow, so I don’t know for certain how he felt about the association.  But I was 15 when Dad joined USIA, and I recall feeling a certain pride that my father was working for Edward R. Murrow, an esteemed newsman.]