Directors, Maybe We Don't Lean into the Cringe?

by Chris Peterson, OnStage Blog Founder

We've all been there: a beloved classic gets dusted off and put back onstage, and while it still packs plenty of nostalgic charm, it also drags a whole lot of baggage behind it. You know the kind of moments I'm talking about—the jokes that make you wince, the casual misogyny, the stereotypes that feel a little too loud in 2025, and those storylines that glorify choices we'd like to think we've moved past.

I recently saw a Letter to the Editor about a dinner theatre production of Grease in MN. This show has always been one of those shows where you have to squint a little and remind yourself it’s a period piece. But still, it seems this person wasn't ready for how much this production leaned—and I mean leaned—into every single cringey moment it could possibly find.

They said,

“Within the first half of the show, one of the male characters grabbed Rizzo’s breast without warning or consent. The audience laughed. Later, a group of boys ganged up on a friend and forcibly pulled his pants down. More laughter. Then came the drive-in scene, where Danny pressures Sandy into intimacy. She says no — twice — before he turns to the audience, smirks and says, “Come on, no one’s looking,” with a raised eyebrow. Again, audience members didn’t shift uncomfortably or fall silent. They laughed.”

They continued,

“So what message does it send when it presents shows like “Grease” without any self-awareness? The talent onstage was undeniable, but I couldn’t help wondering — how do these actors feel performing these moments, winking through outdated and troubling behavior in front of children?”

It would seem that instead of finding smart ways to navigate the dated material, the director went full throttle, as if playing up the awkwardness would somehow make it funnier or more "authentic."

And yes, it was dinner theatre. But dinner theatre is still theatre. It still deserves care and artistic integrity. Just because you're serving prime rib with a side of nostalgia doesn't mean you get a pass on intention.

So directors, can we just talk about this for a second? Theatre is supposed to entertain, challenge, and sometimes make people uncomfortable—but that discomfort has to mean something. It needs to have purpose behind it. There's a big difference between pushing boundaries and just dragging your audience through outdated jokes because "that's how it was written."

We all know there are shows out there that don't age as gracefully as we wish they would. But the solution isn't to lean harder into the cringe. It's to approach it with some actual thought. What can we highlight differently? What moments need a fresh lens? How can we stay true to the spirit of the piece without pretending every part of it holds up?

And no, before anyone starts clutching their pearls, I’m not saying we need to bubble-wrap every show for maximum comfort. Theatre should stay risky. It should poke at the audience sometimes. But lazy shock value—"Hey, wasn't the '50s super sexist, LOL!"—isn't risky. It's just boring.

That "Grease" production seems to have missed such an easy win. The cast is surely talented. All it needed was a director willing to ask some bigger questions instead of doubling down on the worst instincts in the material. Imagine what a smarter, sharper "Grease" could have looked like—one that captured the energy and fun while giving a knowing wink to the outdated parts, inviting the audience to laugh with awareness instead of at their own discomfort.

Directors owe it to their casts, their audiences, and honestly themselves, to aim higher. Revisiting older shows isn't just about recreating a moment in time. It's about using what we know now to breathe new life into old stories—to bridge the gap between then and now, not pretend the gap doesn’t exist.

Choosing to lean into cringe may feel edgy in theory, but in practice, it usually just feels tone-deaf. And audiences are smart—they know when you’re being thoughtful and when you’re just hiding behind "that's how it was written."

Old shows offer us a gift: a chance to spark fresh conversations, to see how far we've come (or haven’t), and to engage audiences with both the magic and the mess of the past. Doubling down on cringe isn't brave. It's a missed opportunity.

So, directors—let's do better. Let's be smarter. Let's take the shot to elevate, question, and challenge. Our audiences—and our art—deserve it.