producers—which is certainly true. Nobody could write a more vicious pan than her. But when she loved something, she could write about it with astonishing passion and eloquence.
She understood Tennessee Williams better than anybody. I think it’s fair to say that without her, Williams would not have become the writer he became. Williams was writing ahead of his time. If you look at the recent Broadway revival of The Glass Menagerie , what you’re seeing is people finally understanding his brilliance. The play was too soon for a lot of people, but Claudia caught it in the moment.
David Cote: Kenneth Tynan is the top. His writing is concise, witty, and explosive. He didn’t hide his political convictions or his passion. Besides Tynan: William Hazlitt for perspective, Stanley Kauffmann for intellectual rigor, Walter Kerr for bedside manner, Robert Brustein for balls, and George Jean Nathan for arrogant bitchery. There aren’t many living theater critics that I admire.
Richard Ouzounian: I love Kenneth Tynan, but I don’t think he can be your model if you write in North America. You can love his style and prose, but he did say that the job of the theater critic is “to make way for the good by demolishing the bad.” I don’t know if it’s quite that draconian anymore. I may be an incredibly negative critic when I hate a show, but I am also the most incredibly positive critic when I love a show. You have to be able to give as well as take away. You have to bring people into the theater as well as keep them out.
Jeremy Gerard: In terms of knowledge and insight, I would say Walter Kerr in his prime—which was not his time at the New York Times , but before that at the Herald Tribune .
Roma Torre: I loved Walter Kerr. He was so measured. His criticism was never personal or snarky. He understood the nature, structure, and general elements that made for quality theater. His criticism was always constructive. There was a time when producers would look to certain critics to fix their shows. There aren’t too many critics who could serve in that function anymore—partly because of the current nature of criticism today. The emphasis on glibness, the reduced space, and economic pressures prevent us from being able to present the kind of consistently thoughtful, studied assessment that embodied Kerr’s writing.
Steven Suskin: The best theater criticism creates an impression of what you’re seeing in words. Walter Kerr could describe an actor in two or three sentences and make you feel like you were experiencing the performance.
Linda Winer: The person I read for wonderment—on how theater can be made alive through words that bounce off the page—is Walter Kerr. The New York Times used to have a daily theater critic and a Sunday theater critic. When I was in Chicago, I would wait for the Sunday Times to come out to read Walter Kerr. He was on the third page of the “Arts and Leisure” section above the fold. He would write essays about what he saw the week before, and he could contradict the daily critic. It was good to have two voices since the Times has so much power. Kerr had a rich, individual way of describing an event. He could zero in on the way a particular actor did a particular thing, and from there, open it up until you got a picture of the entire play. I thought it was magic. I miss having someone in that slot. But most of all, I miss Walter Kerr.
Richard Ouzounian: I used to worship Walter Kerr as a kid. He was the great combination of the smart and populous, which is what I strive to be. Walter Kerr was the guy who said Gypsy was “the best damn musical I’ve seen in years.” On the other hand, he was a professor at Catholic University. He could write smart, but he could also write zippy. I also learned a couple of tropes from him. He used to begin with a telling scene or an image from a show. He also loved to wind up a review by making it very clear what he had said. There was never any doubt about