Why Honesty Is the Most Important Leadership Skill in Theatre

I have learned that making theater with a team is so much easier when people communicate openly, quickly, and honestly. From production meetings to rehearsals to performances, everyone works better when they know what they are dealing with as early as possible. If someone tells me “there is no fly space”, or “the cast might be over 100 people”, or “we have to take $1,000.00 out of the set budget”, I can plan for that. The problem is finding out too late to do anything useful about it. Theater is problem-solving. We do it all the time. I never want anyone to be afraid to bring me difficult news, because the best time to hear bad news is as soon as possible. What matters is having enough time to solve the problem well before it turns into a crisis. Of course, last-minute changes and emergencies are always going to happen. That is part of the job. But the fewer surprises we have, and the fewer decisions we must make in a panic, the better it is for everyone.  

I feel the same way when working with a cast. After auditions, many performers come to me disappointed because they did not get the role they wanted. Sometimes they ask “what happened?” and want an explanation or advice. In those moments, honesty is one of the kindest things we can offer. Before we even get to final casting, I try to make it clear that not getting the role you wanted—or even the role you truly believed you were right for—does not mean it could never have been yours. It means that, on that particular day, a small group of people had to make a choice and say, “This is the direction we are going.” I have seen many young performers become what we often call the bridesmaid: always close to the leading role, but passed over because someone else is just a stronger fit at that moment. That is hard. It is hard at any age. And often, it does not mean the performer would not have been wonderful. It may simply mean someone else came a little closer to what the role needed. Casting is also about so many other things: chemistry, height, vocal range, special skills, and how all the pieces fit together. The only control a performer has is presenting your best work at an audition and a callback, and then the decision is not what you did wrong, but that someone else was a better fit into the puzzle. 

Performers need to feel supported, valued, and encouraged, but I do not think it helps anyone to call something excellent when it is only fine. If we praise everything, praise starts to lose its meaning. Honest, constructive feedback helps people keep reaching instead of thinking they have already arrived. We owe the people we work with the chance to stretch beyond what they thought they could do. When performers are pushed right to the edge of their abilities, they grow. Then, the next time they walk into a rehearsal room, they are ready for something even bigger. And when you finally tell them they have done excellent work, met a goal, or should be proud not just of the effort but of the result, they know you mean it. 

Honesty matters on stage, too. Sometimes we make choices that do not set a performer up to succeed as fully as they could. When that happens, we have to be willing to adjust. There are ways to move someone, reshape a moment, present a vocal alternative, or give them a better opportunity without making them feel smaller. I think this is especially important when working with less experienced performers. If you build moments that allow them to connect with the audience, regardless of the “difficulty”, everyone has a better chance to feel successful. The job is to really look at the people in front of you and make the most of what each one brings. 

At the end of any project, there are always things worth celebrating. There are moments that mattered, choices that worked, and accomplishments that made the experience special for both the staff and the performers. Being honest does not mean we have to say, “This is the best show we have ever done,” especially if it is not true. But it does mean we should name what was genuinely strong and make sure those achievements are appreciated. 

The truth does not have to be harsh, though sometimes people deliver it that way. When giving feedback with care and consistency, the people you work with start to hear it as helpful information, not as a list of everything they did wrong. And, of course, honesty has to go both ways. When I ask coworkers, staff members, audience members, or performers what they think, I hope they will tell me the truth. That means I must do the same work I am asking of them: listen closely, take the information seriously, respond through my words and actions, and make sure people know I heard them. 

I keep coming back to this because honesty, at its best, is not about being blunt or proving a point. It is about trust. It is how we protect the work, respect the people doing it, and give each other the chance to grow. In theater, as in life, we do better when we are brave enough to say what is true and generous enough to hear it. If we can keep practicing that—offering the truth with care, receiving it with humility, and using it to make the next thing better— then the work gets stronger, the room gets healthier, and the people in it become more capable than they were before…….Honest.