Signs You May Be a Bad Theatre Director

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

Look, directing theatre is hard. I know — I do it. And if I’m being honest, I’ve been guilty of more than one thing on this list. Directing asks a lot: vision, clarity, patience, collaboration, humility, caffeine, and sometimes the ability to pretend you totally understood what that designer just said about beam angles.

But somewhere along the way, some directors start thinking that the job is about control instead of connection — and that’s when things get dicey. So, in the spirit of tough love, group therapy, and maybe just a little venting, here are a few signs that you might be a bad theatre director.

You refer to the actors as “my cast” more than you refer to them as human beings.

We get it — you’re in charge. But calling them your cast like you bought them in bulk at Costco gives big cult leader energy. They’re artists too. Treat them like collaborators, not props that breathe. If you’re constantly reminding everyone that this is your vision, your show, and your cast, congratulations — you’ve directed a one-person play, and that person is you. Theatre is not a monarchy. Ditch the royal we.

You believe “blocking” means putting everyone in a straight line across the stage.

Did you go to the "Duck Duck Goose" School of Spatial Awareness? Unless you're directing a chorus line, your actors should not look like they're waiting for roll call. If every scene looks like a police lineup, it might be time to revisit your visual storytelling skills. Dynamic movement matters. Stage pictures should serve the story — not just serve symmetry. People have depth. So should your blocking.

You rewrite the script because you “just didn’t connect with Act Two.”

Unless you're the playwright or the playwright has given you permission, you don't get to rework scenes just because they didn’t spark joy. Respect the text. You're not the author — you're the storyteller. There’s a difference between interpretation and erasure. Just because you don’t “get” something doesn’t mean it’s broken. Maybe do a little dramaturgy instead of ripping out scenes and stitching together your own Frankenstein's monster of a play.

You think yelling is the same thing as giving a note.

There’s a difference between direct and disrespectful. If your cast flinches every time you open your mouth, you’re not leading — you’re terrorizing. And no one gives their best performance out of fear. Except maybe Patti LuPone, but you are not her. A note should clarify, not shame. If your feedback sounds more like a drill sergeant than a collaborator, you’re creating a trauma response, not a creative environment. Try decaf and actual words.

You “don’t really do tech.”

Then you don’t really do theatre. Lighting, sound, set — these aren’t afterthoughts, they’re part of the language of the show. If you haven’t had a real conversation with your designers, you’re missing half the production. The tech crew isn’t there to clean up your mess. They’re artists too. And if you’re calling light cues based on “vibes” and forgetting to mention that scene six has a thunderstorm, your “vision” is about to be pitch black.

Your feedback is “Just do it better.”

Cool. Helpful. Inspiring. Vague direction is worse than no direction at all. If you can't articulate what you want, maybe you haven't figured it out yet — and that’s okay. But don't fake it and blame the actors for not mind-reading. If your coaching sounds like a Magic 8 Ball, it’s time to pause and get specific. “Be more connected” isn’t a note. “Raise your stakes, listen more actively” is. Language matters. Use it wisely.

You think criticism means your genius is being misunderstood.

Maybe the audience didn’t “miss the metaphor.” Maybe your production just didn’t work. Even Sondheim had flops. Being open to feedback — especially when it’s uncomfortable — is what makes you better. Not bitter. If every negative comment sends you into a Shakespearean soliloquy about how underappreciated you are, you’re not a visionary — you’re exhausting. Art is subjective, yes. But when ten people say they’re confused, maybe it’s not the audience that needs to change.

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The truth is, most bad directing habits don’t come from ego — they come from fear, inexperience, burnout, or forgetting that theatre is a shared space. And yes, I’ve caught myself making some of these same mistakes before. So if you recognized yourself in any of this? You’re not alone. The best directors are the ones who learn, adapt, and keep growing — not the ones who pretend they've got it all figured out.

So take the note. Be kind to your collaborators. And for the love of Thespis, let your cast pee.

Curtain.