It is a strangely disquieting moment when I recognised the dulcet tones of Home by Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros drifting over the opening sequence of Stuck in Love. I begin to sink down apprehensively into my seat. It’s not that I dislike the track; I love it, but therein lies the problem. I’ve become almost fearful of films harnessing my favourite tunes because they seldom live up to the song. It feels as if the filmmakers have kidnapped a popular artist, forcing them to provide some essential indie affectations for their quirky dramas. I sink lower and start to fold myself away in the hope that this seat den I’m constructing will make an effective quirk proof shelter. I think I’ll be safe here unless characters begin arbitrarily playing music to each other or someone attempts to smoke me out using The Shins. So whose stuck you ask? Well other than me, in my cinematic cushion fort, we have Bill Borgen (Greg Kinnear) acclaimed novelist and hopeless divorcée still pining over his ex-wife Erica (Jennifer Connelly). Adding to the ensemble is Bill’s daughter Samantha (Lily Collins) who is publishing her first book, the content of which reflects...

Your relationship with a performance starts the first moment you hear its name, get told a jumbled synopsis or a flyer is placed in your hand. From that instant your opinions and expectations begin to be shaped and a potential show already starts to form in your mind. As critics and theatre goers it is impossible to avoid forming preconceptions of pieces from the smallest stimuli. We are constantly re-writing and reassessing our opinions of shows before, after and indeed during the performance. As a reviewer it can be difficult to maintain any semblance of objectivity when you are aware of how so many extraneous factors influence your opinion. With this in mind I made a decision to display as much of this transient critiquing process as possible. I’m intending to take you from the root of my own presumptions to the final verdict with a star rating for step along the way. I chose the puppetry piece Grit as my case study. Let’s begin. Review One: Thoughts on Genre University theatre had taught me to fear puppetry. A morose parade of Pinocchios; a surreally playful chain-gang trailed me through my higher education. They fumbled humour and pathos with...