I have never even pretended like I’m the kind of person who does not care about or read reviews of their work. Years ago I had a residency at the O’Neill theater conference, where a group of critics were also in residence, and the playwrights actually had a dialogue with them. It was maybe then that I realized that critics are artists and thinkers in their own right with their own dreams and insecurities. Do I still get mad at them when they get it totally wrong? But of course. As I think I’ve said here before, being understood is a primal human need and being misunderstood makes us seethe worse than anything. If you don’t believe me just spend approximately ten seconds with any toddler. All of this to say I am THRILLED, THRILLED BEYOND MEASURE that the Chicago critics seem to really get the Notebook. While offering some really helpful areas for improvement, they also all seem to understand our tone, the world of the show, what we’re trying to say, and why we made the changes to the source material that we did. And so for today: Critics you are geniuses, I love you, until next time when you call me out for trying too hard, at which point you will be dead to me, but only in the sense that I lie awake, wondering if, or knowing that, you are Right.