If you know me, you’ll probably know by now that I love theatre.

I love the excitement of finding out about a new production, reading about the cast, getting dressed up, walking into a theatre and feeling that little buzz before the lights go down.

And then there’s that moment when the show begins.

For me, there really is nothing quite like live theatre.

Maybe that’s why lately I’ve found myself feeling a little sad about what seems to be happening within the industry.

I’ve noticed more shows finishing their runs earlier than expected, productions struggling to attract audiences and, more broadly, a sense that theatre is having to work harder than ever to get people through the doors.

And I can’t help but wonder:

Where is theatre heading?

I don’t ask that question because I’ve suddenly stopped loving it.

Quite the opposite.

I think I care so much because I love it.

And when you look at what theatre has already been through, it feels even more important to have this conversation.

The COVID-19 pandemic hit live performance incredibly hard.

Theatre was subject to some of the harshest and longest-running restrictions during the pandemic, with venues forced to close, productions cancelled or postponed and performers and countless backstage workers suddenly unable to do the work they loved.

Even when other parts of life began reopening, live performance faced significant restrictions and uncertainty. Theatre was among the last parts of the arts and entertainment world to fully return to anything resembling normal.

And coming back wasn’t simply a matter of turning the lights back on.

Productions had to rebuild. Audiences had to feel comfortable returning. Companies had to navigate uncertainty, changing restrictions and enormous financial pressures.

So when I think about where theatre is now, I can’t help but remember just how much it has already had to overcome.

I’ve been lucky enough to see some incredible productions over the years, and every show has its own little world. You can walk into a theatre having had a completely ordinary day and, a couple of hours later, walk back out having laughed, cried, thought about something differently or simply been completely transported somewhere else.

That’s pretty special.

And I think sometimes we forget just how much goes into creating that experience.

It’s not just the actors we see on stage.

It’s the musicians, directors, creatives, choreographers, designers, technicians, wardrobe teams, hair and makeup, front-of-house staff, ushers, producers and so many people working behind the scenes.

When a show closes early or struggles to sell tickets, it affects a whole lot more people than the audience might realise.

Which is why I think this is something worth talking about.

I’m not pretending to have the answers.

I don’t work in the theatre industry. I’m an audience member. A passionate one, yes — but still an audience member.

And perhaps that’s exactly why I think the audience perspective matters too.

What makes people decide to buy a ticket?

What stops them?

Is it ticket prices? The cost of living? Not knowing enough about a show? The sheer amount of entertainment competing for people’s attention?

Do people still see theatre as something they want to make time for?

And perhaps most importantly — how do we get the next generation excited about going to the theatre?

These are questions I find myself thinking about more and more.

Because I don’t want theatre to become something that feels increasingly out of reach or something that people simply stop prioritising.

I want people to experience that feeling I get when the lights go down.

I want people to discover a performer who blows them away.

I want someone who hasn’t been to a musical in years to walk out of one and say, “Wow. I forgot how much I love this.”

And I want the people who pour their hearts into creating these shows to know that there are audiences who genuinely care.

One of the lovely things about being so passionate about theatre is the people I’ve met along the way.

I’ve crossed paths with Lucy from Light FM a number of times at theatre opening nights, and it’s always lovely finding someone else who gets that excitement about a show. (Lucy is just one of many examples of the beautiful people and performers from shows I’ve had the joy of meeting)

Lucy and Kel have also been kind enough to read some of my theatre reviews, which has meant a lot to me.

It made me realise that perhaps my little reviews and my constant excitement about theatre can be part of something bigger — starting conversations about why theatre matters.

Because I don’t just want to say whether I liked a show.

I want to talk about why I loved it.

I want to celebrate the people who made it.

I want to encourage someone else to go and see it.

And, at the moment, I also want to talk honestly about the fact that I’m worried.

Not in a doom-and-gloom way.

More in a “Please don’t let something I love disappear” kind of way.

Because theatre has given me so many wonderful memories.

It’s given me nights out I’ve looked forward to for weeks. Performances I’ve thought about long after the curtain call. Songs I’ve listened to on repeat. Characters I’ve become completely invested in. And moments where I’ve sat in the audience and thought, this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

I don’t want future audiences to miss out on that.

So maybe the conversation we need isn’t simply about whether a particular show is successful or unsuccessful.

Maybe it’s about what we can all do to keep people interested in theatre.

Buy the ticket.

Bring a friend.

Tell someone about the show you loved.

Share a review.

Talk about it.

Keep the conversation going.

Because ultimately, theatre needs audiences.

And audiences need theatre too.

I know I certainly do.

So while I might not have the answers about what the future of theatre looks like, I do know one thing:

I really, really want there to be a future.

And if talking about theatre, writing about theatre and encouraging other people to experience it can play even a tiny part in that, then I’ll happily keep doing it.

Because the curtain hasn’t fallen yet.

And I don’t think we should let it.

X Steph