Why a Trigger Warning Isn’t a Spoiler. It’s Respect.

by Chris Peterson

The new Evita revival in London’s West End, starring Rachel Zegler and directed by Jamie Lloyd, was always going to spark a conversation. From its stripped-down aesthetic to the now-viral staging of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” sung from a balcony outside the theatre, this production invites strong reactions. But the latest controversy isn’t about Zegler’s performance or Lloyd’s vision. It’s about a sign.

Specifically, a sign in the foyer of the Open Air Theatre warning audiences about haze, flashing lights, and loud music. Some tabloids jumped on it, calling the production “woke” for adding “trigger warnings.” Online, a few commenters complained that the list of effects was “ridiculous” and spoiled the experience. But this outrage misses the point entirely.

Let’s be clear. Content warnings are not spoilers. They are tools. And in many cases, they are life-saving ones.

For patrons with photosensitive epilepsy, a flashing light warning isn’t about comfort. It’s about safety. Without it, an audience member could experience a seizure mid-performance. For others, such as veterans with PTSD or individuals on the autism spectrum, loud sudden noises or overwhelming sensory input can trigger genuine panic responses. The warning isn’t about coddling feelings. It’s about allowing audiences to make informed decisions about their own bodies and brains.

What’s frustrating is how easily the theatre world, which prides itself on empathy and storytelling, falls into dismissive language when it comes to access and accommodation. We build entire musicals around revolution, trauma, and liberation but balk at the idea of placing a small sign near the box office?

The irony, of course, is that these warnings don’t take anything away from the experience. In fact, they often improve it. Knowing you may encounter intense stimuli allows you to prepare emotionally, physically, or logistically. Maybe by bringing earplugs, sitting near an exit, or choosing a matinee. Far from being a spoiler, it gives people the freedom to stay immersed, rather than be caught off guard and pulled out of the story.

This is especially true in productions like Evita, which lean into abstraction. Jamie Lloyd’s directorial style is known for its sensory elements. Bold lighting shifts, aggressive sound cues, bursts of stage smoke. These aren’t afterthoughts. They’re storytelling devices. Acknowledging their presence beforehand doesn’t dull their impact. It just means the audience is ready.

The backlash is also entangled in a larger discomfort about how this production challenges traditional expectations. Zegler performs much of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” outside, from a literal balcony, while audiences inside the theatre view it through a live video feed. Some viewers felt shortchanged. Others praised the symbolism. Evita speaking to the people from on high, separated from them yet needing their love.

It’s a bold move. But bold moves don’t come without pushback. The same can be said for content warnings. The term “trigger warning” has become politically charged, often misunderstood or misrepresented as a demand to censor difficult material. In truth, it’s the opposite. Content warnings allow difficult material to be experienced more safely and intentionally.

And let’s not ignore that signage like this often benefits all theatergoers. If you’ve ever attended a show with kids, or someone prone to migraines, or even someone anxious about crowds, knowing what’s coming helps. It’s the kind of basic courtesy you’d expect from a concert venue, an art installation, or even a theme park. Why should theatre be the holdout?

What’s really happening here is a fear that theatre is changing. That being thoughtful about accessibility somehow means sacrificing artistic integrity. But those things aren’t in conflict. Theatres that offer sensory-friendly performances, captioned shows, or content advisories are not watering down their work. They’re inviting more people in.

And isn’t that the point of theatre in the first place? To create a shared space where people of all backgrounds and experiences can gather, feel, and connect? That doesn’t happen by accident. It happens through intention. And yes, sometimes that intention takes the form of a laminated sign.

So if a trigger warning lets someone enjoy Evita safely, let’s stop calling it “woke” and start calling it what it is. Responsible. Because when theatre is at its best, it isn’t gatekeeping. It’s welcoming. And that includes the foyer.