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What Is Devised Theatre?

21 June 2026

What Is Devised Theatre?

What Is Devised Theatre?

Walk into a rehearsal for a normal play and you'll see actors with scripts, a director with notes, and a story everyone already knows the shape of. Walk into a devising room and you might find people throwing a chair around, arguing about a news article, or spending an hour trying to physicalise the feeling of waiting for a phone call. There's no script. Not yet. Maybe not ever, at least not in the way you'd expect.

That's the short version: devised theatre is theatre a company makes together, usually without a finished play to start from. The performance grows out of the process rather than the other way round.

So nobody writes it?

People do write it — they just write it as they make it, and often more than one person is doing the writing. That's the real shift. In conventional theatre the playwright is at the top of the chain. They produce the text, and everyone else interprets it. In devising, the text (if there even is much text) emerges from the room. Actors, the director, sometimes designers and musicians, all feed material in. Someone usually ends up shaping and editing it all, but the authorship is shared.

This is why you'll sometimes hear it called collective creation or collaborative creation. Different names, same basic idea: the show is authored by the group.

It's worth saying that "devised" doesn't mean "improvised on the night." Audiences sometimes assume the actors are making it up as they go. They're not. The improvising happens in the rehearsal room, over weeks or months, and the good stuff gets kept, refined, and locked. By the time you're watching it, it's usually as fixed as any scripted play.

Where does a devised piece even begin?

Anywhere, honestly. That's part of what makes it exciting and part of what makes it terrifying for the people doing it. A starting point — companies often call it a stimulus — can be almost anything:

  • A theme or a question the company can't stop chewing on
  • A real event, a historical moment, a piece of news
  • An object, a photograph, a piece of music
  • A physical movement or gesture
  • Interviews and real people's testimony
  • A personal story someone in the room brings in

From there it's a lot of trying things. Improvisation, research, writing exercises, movement work, building little fragments and seeing which ones have life in them. Most of what gets made gets thrown away. The job is partly to generate a mountain of material and partly to be ruthless about cutting it down to the moments that matter.

Because of all this, devised work often leans physical and visual. When you're not anchored to dialogue, the body and the image start doing more of the storytelling. You'll see a lot of movement, striking stage pictures, sound and projection used as more than decoration. Plenty of devised theatre still has plenty of talking — but it tends not to rely on it the way a kitchen-sink drama does.

A bit of history

Devising isn't new, even if the word gets thrown around like it's a recent trend. The collaborative impulse runs through a lot of twentieth-century theatre.

Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop in postwar Britain built shows through collective effort and pushed back hard against the idea of the all-powerful playwright. The training methods of Jacques Lecoq in Paris turned out generations of theatre-makers who thought through the body and the ensemble first. The 1960s and 70s saw collective creation become almost a political position — companies making work together as a rejection of hierarchy. Ariane Mnouchkine's Théâtre du Soleil has spent decades creating epic productions through long collaborative processes.

Then there are the companies that shaped what a lot of people picture when they hear "devised theatre" today: Complicité, with Simon McBurney's restless visual imagination. Frantic Assembly and DV8, who fused movement and storytelling into something muscular and emotional. Forced Entertainment, who got playful and strange with what a performance could even be. Their fingerprints are all over contemporary theatre, whether audiences know the names or not.

Why bother making theatre this way?

It's harder, slower, and a lot less predictable than rehearsing a script. So why do it?

Because the room owns the work. When everyone's been there from the first messy session, there's an ownership and an energy that's hard to fake. Devising can also go places a single writer might never reach — it can chase a feeling or an image rather than a plot, and end up somewhere genuinely surprising. It's a brilliant way to make theatre about things that don't have neat stories: grief, memory, a community, an event too big or too slippery for a tidy three-act structure.

And it's flexible. A devised process can absorb whatever the company is good at. Strong movers? The piece can move. Musicians in the room? Build the music in. It bends to the people making it rather than forcing them to fit a pre-existing mould.

The catch

I'd be lying if I made it sound like pure magic. Devising is messy. You can spend two weeks on material that goes in the bin. Groups can talk in circles, lose their nerve, or struggle to agree on what the thing is even about. Without someone holding a clear eye on the whole — often a director or an outside dramaturg — a devised piece can sprawl and lose focus. The freedom that makes it exciting is the same freedom that makes it easy to get lost in.

That's the trade. You give up the safety of a finished script for the chance to make something nobody could have written alone.

In short

Devised theatre is collaborative, process-led theatre that's built by a company rather than handed to them. It starts from a stimulus instead of a script, grows through experimentation, and tends to be physical, visual, and a little unpredictable. It's not a genre so much as a way of working — and once you start noticing it, you'll spot its influence all over the stage.

If you've only ever seen scripted plays, the next devised piece you watch will probably feel a bit different. Slipperier. More alive in places, more uneven in others. Sit with that. That texture is the whole point.