So in a recent theater review I revealed my guilty pleasure: Reading tell-all tomes about geniuses’ private lives. Herein I shall divulge my biggest recurring mistake as a reviewer. Because of my dread of plot spoilers (as all my loyal readers are well aware of) when I receive an invitation from a publicist to attend a show and see in it something, such as the topic or talent involved, that convinces me to critique it, I immediately stop reading said invite and RSVP. Usually, this preserves the cherished element of surprise (that too many publicists, as well as critics, ruin by giving away too much) and those plots remain unspoiled for me when it’s show time.
However, this perilous practice backfires on your humble scribbler about 10% of the time, when - due to this desire of avoiding plot spoilers I don’t complete perusing those press releases, et al - and later realize (after it’s too late), that had I finished reading those invites I probably would not have fought the L.A. traffic and made the trip all the way into urban hell to see a production I actually had no interest in, after all. Woe is moi!