"What has to happen in a person's life that they become a critic, anyway?"

I am yet to see Birdman, so I can't say whether Matt Trueman's description of Tabitha Dickinson, the critic is the film, is actually played by Lindsay Duncan  'like a human chilblain; agonisingly cold.' And, at first, I wasn't sure whether Trueman's reply to the film - which consisted of a mini-lecture on the nature of criticism - was anything more than a boo-hoo wank.

Even though I still think he is taking it a bit personally, his description of the function of the critic is food for thought. Breaking it down, he says...

Good criticism always costs the critic something – or at least, it should. It involves risk: not as much as making theatre, sure, but risk nonetheless...what I write... costs me something. Say no to labels. Call me on it.

I, personally, take no risks at all. After the murder of the four cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo, I am now, more than ever, conscious of the safety of being a theatre critic. The worst that can happen is a rather charming middle-class writer can get pissed off at me. I am not taking a risk. And I don't accept this 'risk' of which Trueman speaks. What are you risking? A comfortable coffee the next time you interview an actor?

Criticism isn't just description. It's not a consumer service that tells you what to expect of a show and whether or not its worth your time and money... Good criticism is about honesty and it's about advocacy – and, that's why it costs something.

This is more helpful: the two things he lists as 'not being' criticism, he calls by-products... I'd like to agree with him, and frequently say similar things. But I am not so arrogant as to think that anyone reads my writing to see how far I have been honest: they want to know what the show was about.

Honesty means daring to enter into the unknown, to discover as you go. 

Not in my dictionary, which I don't use. Honesty means to report back on the entering into the unknown... but seriously, how 'unknown' does theatre ever get? Stop trying to sound like that explorer who keeps losing bits of finger to frostbite. You are going to sit in a warm room and watch people pretend to something they are not. 

The former Times critic Irving Wardle once described a critic as someone "conducting [their] education in public"... Theatre's how I learn about the world and I firmly believe criticism should reflect that, grappling with the ideas behind a show, not just the manner or effectiveness of their presentation. 

I absolutely agree with this paragraph. It is good enough to be a quotation on my wall. 

It involves uncertainty and, with it, risk. Underneath it all, writing about theatre is just another way of writing about life and all its messy complexities.

And this too, if you ignore the throat clearing about uncertainty.

Advocacy, on the other hand, entails standing for something. It

makes demands of theatre, willing it to be better, and it backs the theatre it believes in, regardless of whether anyone else agrees or not. 

While I don't entirely agree with this - there are good reasons not to have an agenda when reviewing - I admire it and accept that it offers a foundation for a strong critical position. Is anyone keeping score of how many opinions I accept and how many I mock? 

With so many openings on offer these days, what a critic chooses to see or cover is a critical act in itself; one that says, ‘This could be important. This has value.' 

Okay, I am with you on that. As long as you are making those choices and not being told to go by an editor. It also means covering things that aren't paid gigs, in my humble opinion. 

A twee line went round Twitter over Christmas: "Promote what you love instead of bashing what you hate." That's a good motto for a critic, I reckon.

It's okay. But advocacy without negative critique is cheerleading, and my legs don't suit the short skirts.

So, what does have to happen in a person's life that they become a critic, anyway? The answer, in my case at least, is that they have to fall in love. Twice. First, with the theatre itself; second, with writing about it. And the thing about love is that it always costs you something. It can't not. It might mean never having to say you're sorry... but it also means always having to tell the truth and give your all. 

Okay, you love theatre. So do I. But saying it 'costs' is a little bit neo-capitalist. My dinner 'cost me something' but I have a full belly in exchange. That doesn't mean I love Tesco. 

How about replacing 'cost' with 'sacrifice'? And what was that about 'no labels' earlier? I see plenty of labels here. 

I have changed my mind, Matt Trueman. There is a risk in criticism. That risk is that some arse, who has nothing better to do, is going to troll you. He's going to take apart your opinions and be rude about them. He's a dick, I wouldn't worry about it. He might even be chasing the same sense of purpose that you are, but without the ability to articulate it as well as you.