I cruised out of the yard in the cab at 4:45 a.m. Tuesday morning, and there was a call on the board in my zone. Start the day with an easy ride to the airport. When I got to the door, I saw that it was this guy I knew named Steve. He was the old arts editor at a weekly newspaper in town. He had a new nonprofit watchdog job these days, but he still did theatre reviews occasionally.

"I was thinking about you," he said, which was a strange statement at five in the morning. It turns out he saw the short playfest at The Vortex the weekend before, where I recently directed one of the seven shows running that involved the election and politics. He went on to say that he thought my show was far and away the best piece of the night. I brushed off the compliment with brief thanks and credited the actors and writer for their efforts. Sip your praise with a spoon, don't wolf it down with a fork. You're libel to choke on your own pride. We chatted about work & our old bands & babies & what not, and off he went to Washington D.C., and I worked the rest of the day in the cab.

On Thursday, I decided to pick up the weekly newspaper, curious to see if Steve actually wrote a review of the playfest. Sure enough, he wrote kind words about the playfest, there were nice pictures of my show, and pretty much told the rest of the town what he told me in the cab. My play, "Enter on the Execution," was the best. He showered praise on the lead actor and mentioned the other two actors, the writer, and myself by name. Pretty good considering there were six other plays.

The writer, who I'll call Gene, phoned me up that day, lavishing praise on me and the cast. It's kind of funny because on opening night, he was a little dismayed about how it all came out. I understood that. Writers always see their work differently than directors. My actors (especially the lead) tend to drop lines here and there, but they always hit the big moments. One glowing review in the free weekly paper, and the playwright's tune changed. We had hit a home run, my lead actor was a genius, and kudos all around. Funny thing is that it's still the same play they performed on opening night.

Let's face it. We all like good reviews, especially really good reviews, but they are a dangerous thing, to be sure. As the late great Paul Newman said "I don't read reviews. If they're good, you walk around with a big head for weeks. If they're bad, you're depressed to no end." Spalding Grey once told a story about getting crucified for his role of the Stage Manager in "Our Town." He showed up to the theatre in a dismal mood and saw all the other actors chipper and preparing for the next night's performance. He ask them why they were so happy in light of the sour reviews, and they said "Spalding, we don't read the reviews. We have a show to do."

I read the reviews for my shows, but I take them with a grain of salt. As an actor, my line for if I'm mentioned is "What's my adjective?" Each actor gets a sentence at best. If I directed the play, they just mention my name, but the whole review is a critique of my work.

"Enter on the Execution" is now critically acclaimed, and I haven't even told you what it's about. See how powerful a review can be? If they say it's good, it doesn't matter what it's about, right?

Okay, that's not true. "E on the E" is about Obama stepping into a restroom just before taking The Oath of Office. An older black janitor comes in and tells the president-elect about all the other presidents he cleaned up after, dating back to Johnson. He then goes on a diatribe that only a black man could say to another black man. The N-word is used a handful of times. Critics call that "powerful theatre." The janitor breaks Obama down, the president confesses fear, and he builds the president up again. A nice, I mean powerful, 12-minute piece.

The critics are usually right, though. My lead actor has tremendous range and ability, the playwright did tell a quality one-act tale, and I did put it together in a meaningful manner. I still see many flaws in the piece, but I keep them to myself. I made sure, however, that my actors' heads didn't swell too much from the review and reminded them they had to perform the play for three more weekends. They understood.

Last night, I worked the box office at the theatre, and the glowing reviews helped sell out the show. In truth, it's a decent night of community theatre. Community actors, directors and writers collaborating for a night of political one-acts. The audience gets to vote for their favorite, and the winning playwright gets $500. I don't know if my play will get the popular vote, but the reviews are in. The critics say the play is good, and that's good enough for me.

Chris Jungle had a brief case of head swelling, but reality cured it within hours.