Directors, Stop Making Community Theatre Miserable

by Chris Peterson

I love community theatre.

I really do.

At its best, community theatre is one of the best parts of this art form. It’s where a lot of people first find their voice. It’s where they find friends. It’s where they find confidence. For many people, it’s where theatre stops being something they watch and becomes something they actually get to be part of.

That’s why it bothers me when the rehearsal room starts feeling like the opposite of what community theatre is supposed to be.

If you’ve done community theatre, you know how much work goes into it. It does not just happen because a group of people wanted to put on a show. People give up nights, weekends, and whatever free time they have left. Actors come straight from work. Designers stretch small budgets. Stage managers keep everyone on track. A lot of people do work the audience may never notice, but the show would fall apart without it.

And honestly, that’s the part of community theatre I’ll always love. People keep showing up. Even when the hours are long. Even when the resources are thin. Even when the process is not easy.

But here’s where I’m at.

Some directors in community theatre need to drop the ego.

I don’t say that because I think directors should stop having standards. Please have standards. Ask people to be prepared. Expect actors to know their lines. Expect people to show up on time. Build a room where the work matters.

Community theatre does not mean sloppy theatre. It still needs structure. It still needs leadership. It still needs someone guiding the process.

But leadership is not the same thing as control.

Too often, I see directors confuse being direct with being demeaning. They confuse having a vision with refusing to listen. They confuse authority with being the only person in the room who matters.

And people feel that.

Actors feel it when notes become lectures. Designers feel it when every conversation turns into a battle. Stage managers feel it when they are ignored until something goes wrong. Eventually, rehearsal stops feeling like a place people want to be and starts feeling like something they have to get through.

That should be a warning sign.

Because this is community theatre. These people are not your employees. They are not your students. They are not being paid to absorb your bad mood or your need to prove something. They are volunteers. They are showing up after work, after school, after taking care of kids, after dealing with everything else life threw at them that day.

They chose to spend that time in your rehearsal room. That has to mean something.

Now, I know actors can be difficult. I know boards can be difficult. I know there are cast members who miss rehearsals, come in unprepared, talk during notes, and still have opinions about every decision being made. I am not pretending every problem starts with the director.

But the director sets the tone.

If your cast is afraid to ask questions, that’s a problem. If your designers feel steamrolled, that’s a problem. If your stage manager is constantly ignored, that’s a problem. If your rehearsal room feels more tense than creative, you have to look at your own leadership.

The best community theatre directors I’ve worked with were not the ones trying to prove they were the smartest person in the room. They were the ones who made the room better.

They came prepared. They knew what they wanted. They pushed people. But they also listened. They adjusted. They understood that directing volunteers takes patience, communication, and humility.

That does not mean letting the process fall apart. It does not mean letting people walk all over you. It means remembering that authority in a rehearsal room is supposed to guide the work, not dominate the people doing it.

And while we’re here, respect your stage manager and your tech team. They are not just there to make your idea happen. They are part of the show too, and a director who forgets that is usually making the process harder than it needs to be.

I’ll also say this. If your concept for a community theatre production requires everyone around you to be miserable, maybe the concept is not as brilliant as you think it is.

If your rehearsal process leaves people feeling small, embarrassed, or broken down, I don’t care how good the final product looks. You lost something along the way.

Community theatre should challenge people. It should push people. It should ask people to take the work seriously. But it should also be a place where people feel like they belong.

And that does not happen by accident. It happens because the person leading the room understands that the people in it matter more than their own ego.

So if you’re directing community theatre and you’ve started treating the room like it exists to serve you, it might be time to take a step back. These are people giving you their time, energy, and trust. They are helping build the show with you, and that should shape how you lead the room.

The rehearsal process does not need to be soft, but it does need to be respectful. Especially in community theatre, where the whole point is supposed to be the community.