Directors, Stop Making Community Theatre Miserable

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

I love community theatre. It’s where I found my voice, my people, and my passion. It’s the kind of place where magic happens in high school cafeterias, old town halls, and churches that double as black boxes. It’s where actors volunteer their time, costumes are sewn in someone’s basement, and set pieces are built with equal parts sweat and duct tape. But lately, I’ve noticed a troubling trend that’s been threatening the spirit of it all, and it’s coming from the director’s chair.

Let me say this as clearly and kindly as possible: some of y’all need to drop the ego.

This isn’t Broadway. This isn’t your personal stepping stone to the next gig. This isn’t an auteur showcase. This is community theatre. The goal is in the name. Community. And when directors start acting like they’re running the next major regional rep, things get toxic fast. Suddenly it’s less about collaboration and more about control. Notes turn into lectures. Casting becomes about politics. The fun disappears. And no one wants to come back next season.

If your actors are terrified of you, that’s not discipline, that’s dysfunction. If your designers feel steamrolled, that’s not vision, that’s vanity. If your rehearsal room feels more like a dictatorship than a sandbox, then guess what? You’ve missed the point.

Look, directing a community show is hard. You’re juggling dozens of personalities, limited resources, and whatever weirdness is happening with the light board this week. But none of that justifies treating your cast and crew like underlings. These people are volunteering. They’re showing up after work, after dinner, after putting the kids to bed, because they want to be there. And it’s your job to make them feel welcome, seen, and safe to create.

This doesn’t mean you can’t have high standards. By all means, push for excellence. But do it with empathy. Do it with the understanding that your cast might include a 50-year-old postal worker playing Tevye for the first time, or a teenager whose only dance training is TikTok. If your concept for Oklahoma! involves an all-black set and a lot of screaming, maybe, just maybe, take a beat and ask if that’s the show your audience came to see.

Also, stop talking down to your tech team. Stop ignoring your stage manager. Stop acting like your props master isn’t just as valuable to the show as your leads. A great director doesn’t just give notes. They listen. They empower. They create an environment where everyone feels like they matter. Because they do.

Here’s a wild idea: treat your cast and crew like collaborators. Not puppets. Not pawns. People. Ask questions. Listen to ideas. Let your stage manager speak. Give your music director some room. Be the kind of leader who makes folks want to work with you again, not the one everyone dreads but tolerates for the sake of the show.

Because in community theatre, the legacy you leave isn’t the standing ovation or the review in the local paper. It’s whether your cast remembers the process with joy. Whether they made a friend. Whether they felt proud of themselves. Whether they felt like they belonged.

You can direct the greatest production of your life, but if people walk away feeling small, disrespected, or broken down, then what’s the point?

So if you’re a director with a little too much chip on your shoulder lately, here’s your cue. Drop the ego. The curtain’s about to rise, and this isn’t about you.