I don't have a lot of dogmatic beliefs or theories," says Charles Spencer of The Daily Telegraph, a view echoed by many of his colleagues.In Bulgaria, theatre critics are academics and often practitioners too. But readers and theatre lose out when the job of a reviewer is just seen as a piecemeal response to individual shows. Critics should be advocates, interpreters and campaigners on a broader scale.But all critics collude with the trivialisation of their role when they object to being thought of as "intellectual". A few of the older generation do it successfully, and the better critics do it naturally throughout their reviews. "The older generation instinctively sees theatre as central to our culture," he says. "Younger critics won't talk about theatre as a serious art medium.

They question it all the time." Indeed, it's becoming exceptional to read articles giving an overview of British theatre which compare it to international drama and relate it to the rest of our cultural life. I'm now no longer convinced that it is that."And he's not the only one So much for the religion of theatre... and we thought it was only Church of England vicars who lost their faith. But is it healthy - for all concerned - to continue to write about something one no longer believes in? Step aside for someone who enjoys it, rather than staying and souring it for everyone else.The director and writer, David Farr, identifies a dichotomy between older and younger critics. The Evening Standard's Nick Curtis, now famous for his dismissive reviews, admits, "When I was younger I had a much stronger belief in theatre as being something potent, life-changing, and important with a capital 'I'. But it is the critic's job to hold out for detailed responses to a complex art form Critics themselves are complicit in this. When they belittle the form they live by, they ultimately humiliate themselves.At bottom is the media mentality which believes that theatre is not as relevant as film, television or pop culture - or does not sell as many issues and has to justify its existence.Depressingly, Stefanova's book reveals that some critics are buying into this mindset.

It makes a serious theatre critic's job harder when there is pressure to produce headline-grabbing reviews - sneering condemnation or going for hype in the rush to spot "hot" talent Reasoned criticism is considered automatically boring. But whose side are critics really on? Is their ultimate responsibility to the theatre, to the readers, to their editors - or a mixture of all three? These questions are raised in Who Calls the Shots on the London Stages? - a book of candid interviews with critics and practitioners by the Bulgarian critic Kalina Stefanova.It is largely the fault of editors that criticism is becoming merely consumer recommendation - helped by star ratings replacing sustained analysis. That might give the wrong impression, because the 20-minute piece was the opposite of a rag-bag, and I was impressed by its quiet confidence, its measured, spooky insistence, relieved only at one point by a dashing high trumpet solo.. Is a theatre critic's task to "convert people to the religion of theatre" or to act as a "consumer recommendation"? For British critics, the answer seems increasingly to be the latter. But whose side are critics really on? Is their ultimate responsibility to the theatre, to the readers, to their editors - or a mixture of all three? Is a theatre critic's task to "convert people to the religion of theatre" or to act as a "consumer recommendation"? For British critics, the answer seems increasingly to be the latter.

"Polaroids" (1996) was described as a "melodrama" for actress (Christina Schönfeld), counter-tenor (Andrew Watts), ensemble and electronics. Oehring was born to deaf parents, though he can hear, and "Polaroids" is a dialogue involving sign, spoken and sung language, with a very haunting, simple quality, though the electronics are substantially allusive, as if life is coursing by outside. At 28 minutes, the piece obviously had ambitions, but nevertheless felt like an exercise in textures and orchestration rather than a narrative, decisively shaped though each movement was.Helmut Oehring and Iris ter Schiphorst have collaborated on several pieces. If that sounds promising, it was actually hard to identify anything beyond featureless wailing for 10 instruments.At the concert's opening, the Swiss composer Hanspeter Kyburz's "Cells"(1994), for a saxophonist (Simon Haram) and small ensemble (conducted by Roland Kluttig), had five movements shaping material that could very definitely be recognised, if in only a generalised way and at the cost of distinctive detail. "The Origin of the Harp" (1994) was a programmatic piece inspired by a Victorian painting of a water nymph metamorphosed by her longing for a mortal. Here there were distinct events, or changes in the instruments' behaviour, but I wasn't encouraged to get involved since the invention, or actual musical "material", was so characterless.