Carv's Thinky Blog I'm an author with a focus on satirical science fiction.

Everyone’s a Critic!, Part 1

"I have always been very fond of [theatre critics]....I think it is so frightfully clever of them to go night after night to the theatre and know so little about it."--Noel Coward

I read a lot of criticism, not (just) because I delight in the humiliation of wannabe artists. I love art, entertainment, and Western pop culture, but I only have so much free time and income to spend on it. Should I see Robin Hood or How to Train Your Dragon? Roger Ebert and Colin Boyd to the rescue! (Respectively no and yes, by the way.) When I'm between books, a recommendation from Jennifer Reese (formerly of Entertainment Weekly) is worth its weight in Amazon orders. You likely have favorite book and movie critics as well, but when it comes to theatre, critics probably don't matter as much if at all. For one thing, there aren't enough qualified critics to go around; people who know a lot about theatre tend to be too busy creating it to write about it. Besides, theatre is a close-knit community in most places, which turns any unadoring critique into a sociopolitical minefield.

I used to live in a town where the only theatre "critic" was in fact the president of the community theatre troupe writing under a pen name. I'm sure it was pure coincidence that he reserved his most fulsome accolades for shows he directed. I live in South Puget Sound now, an area blessed with a surplus of skilled, knowledgeable theatre folk. On almost any weekend year-round, the good people of Olympia and Tacoma have their pick of shows to attend, of any conceivable genre. Even confining my efforts to Olympia, I see and review an average of a play a week; it'd be more if I attended high school shows. I'm told there are high schools in Oly that put on musicals comparable to solid semiprofessional efforts.

If we didn't have so much good live entertainment, then, I could understand why people might insist my fellow critics and I should write only positive responses to local theatre--but no, that ain't my job, Gentle Reader. If you want an advertisement for your show, the Weekly Volcano would be thrilled to sell you one. But you're in fierce competition with other theatre companies, the movies, TV, and one of the best live music environments in the country. If you make bad art, I'm the last line of defense between your half-baked hootenanny and a customer's hard-earned cash. I'm obliged to recommend some shows over others.

I've been accused of condescension. I take that charge seriously, and I know my nonfiction writing style can come across as a bit highfalutin. Well, I'm a snob, friends. Take it or leave it. I'm proudly snobbish. It makes me feel smart and sophisticated to know good art from bad art. I don't buy the argument that only cruel, unhappy people bother to differentiate between the two. I enjoy all kinds of entertainment, from opera to L.A. punk, post-impressionism to superhero comics, 42nd Street to Velvet Hammer Burlesque, Hermann Hesse to Howard Hesseman. I groove on Lady Gaga and the London Symphony Orchestra. My favorite movie is The Empire Strikes Back, but I also loved all of Trois Couleurs. I live for throwaway culture, but even "junk" has levels of quality. Why watch Web Soup, for example, when Tosh.0 is demonstrably funnier? I have diverse tastes, very few of which could be described as elitist, but that's not the main reason I reject charges of condescension or pretentiousness.

"Condescension," according to the dictionary, is the assumption of "an air of authority." The "air" part is assumed to be the rub. "Pretentious," of course, means "making or possessing usu[ally] unjustified claims." Well, I don't "claim" to be an authority, nor have I put on an "air" of authority--I am an authority. I apologize for immodesty, but facts are facts. I have a terminal degree in theatre direction, and while that may be synonymous with "underemployed adjunct faculty," it's at least a certification of authority on the limited topic of theatre. "I've paid my dues, time after time, " and I do know my stuff. I don't doubt for a second there are people in Oly who are every bit as qualified as I to direct a show, but if they don't live up to their potential as artists, I will notice. Moreover, I know there are people in Oly who have directed more shows than I have; but if they directed those shows incorrectly, then I don't care.

In other words, as I explained in reply to a miffed comment on WeeklyVolcano.com, my expertise in theatre isn't a character flaw. It's my qualification for the job. If I knew less about theatre, would a compliment from me really matter? Likewise, if I say something negative about your show, you won't refute my point by attacking my personality or how "mean" I must've been to notice your artistic missteps.

Having said that, I must add I get no pleasure from knocking other people's work. This surprises even me. I admit I get a charge out of brutal criticism when I don't know personally any of the parties involved. Dorothy Parker, for example: "This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force." Or the incomparable Ambrose Bierce: "The covers of this book are too far apart." Oh, snap! But it's one thing to lob spitballs at Stephenie Meyer; like Liberace, she can cry all the way to the bank. It's quite another to point out that an unpaid local performer who's really trying can't act. That actor has feelings, and it upsets me to think I might someday be obliged to crush them. There's an actor in Oly, for example, a fixture in show after show, whose work always reminds me of a nasty review in Hamlet: "O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly,...that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably." He or she never convincingly portrays a human being, merely a campy, cartoonish exaggeration. I know the actor in question adores theatre and makes a serious effort to learn, but improvements are marginal at best. Should I give him or her an E for effort? I'd love to; the actor is someone whose company I enjoy socially. I just can't. I'd be lying, and the Volcano pays me to tell the truth.

Well...some of the truth. It's certainly fair, even expected, to downplay the faults of a show in favor of its strengths--but even that can be insulting. Looking back over my years as an actor, I think the reviews I hated most were those that failed to mention me at all. (I soothed my wounded ego by deciding I must have played the character so well the critic assumed I was merely playing myself. Yeah...that's the ticket.) There are qualities a show can possess that'll inspire me to give it a pass for most other shortcomings. I have my personal tastes, same as anyone else. If a show engages my mind, for example, that matters at least as much to me as when a musical sets my feet a-tap-tap-tappin'. After all, the latter is a biological response to percussion and rhythm; it takes very little effort or acumen to prompt that response. For most artists, cleverness is harder than cadence. I try to look beyond my preferences; my admitted disinterest in camp aside, for example, I can usually tell and acknowledge the difference between good camp and bad camp. (Some would say "between bad camp and worse camp.") But whatever my personal preferences, sloppy workmanship is sloppy workmanship. If you callously insist on conning audience members into coughing up dollars on an ill-rehearsed production, I feel guiltless warning other audience members away.

Some scripts are better than others, and that's a factor in any review. No direction or performance is skilled enough to save lousy writing. Granted, they can serve as distractions, but if a director's show has an unfunny or dated script, it's not my fault for noticing and saying so, it's his or her fault for choosing it. I try to draw clear distinctions between what the playwright wrote and what each specific company made of it. Reviews must include both aspects of a show to help potential audience members decide whether they might wish to attend.

Look, I'm just one guy with one opinion, and I get that, and we'll accept as a given that I can't completely overrule my own tastes in favor of yours. Caveat lector: Let the reader beware. It's fair to say you have a right to your own opinions about theatre, and it's fair to say a show you enjoy is a show you enjoy no matter what I might think of it. I'm not the keeper of all theatre knowledge.

People in community theatre usually didn't sign up to be dressed down in public, but I believe we've had theatre critics long enough that even amateur actors should be aware of the risk of professional evaluation. I do go easier on actors in inexpensive community theatre than in professional theatre because I expect more from the latter than the former. Community theatre is Amateur Night and probably should be, even if more experienced actors sometimes sneak in and mess with the curve. It's only when troupes claim professional skill levels and/or charge upwards of twenty bucks a ticket that I get more demanding.

One final caveat: Whatever you may think of me or my reviews, the simple fact is I want to like your show. That's true even if I can't stand you personally. For one thing, I probably have friends in it, and I'd rather say nice things about them than mean things about you. Also, I'm too passive aggressive to get much kick out of open confrontation. And third, even if you're a misanthropic prick who trashes me in public and accuses me of stupid bigotries I've repudiated for decades and by the way, that other thing you did was a juvenile half-joke of a self-congratulatory gas cloud, I still have to sit through your next show. Depending on the circumstances, I might even have to pay to see it. Then I have to stay for both acts, even if every neuron in my brain begs me to run for the door at intermission. So whatever the show, no matter who put it together--and this is true without a single exception--I walk in hoping it knocks the ball out of the park. I can still loathe you privately for your obvious character defects, plus that time you power-dissed my girlfriend for no discernible reason, even though she's obviously a dozen times smarter and saner than you'll ever be, not to mention better-looking.

Of course, by "you" I don't mean YOU, Gentle Reader. You and I are golden. I have nothing but good things to say about YOU. It's that other little a-hole. You know the one.

Coming in Part 2: How to shake a glowing review out of that curmudgeonly hack who scribbles for the Weekly Volcano, in just a thousand little steps. It's both easier and harder than it sounds.

Then, to conclude in Part 3: Why do I even bother? Who reads theatre reviews, anyway? Should you? If my review says a show is bad but you think it sounds like fun, should you go see it anyway? Okay, but what if your cousin is in it? And now that local companies are announcing their 2010-2011 seasons, which upcoming shows look most promising?

Until next time, break a leg, and don't forget: We critics have feelings, too, buried somewhere down deep in our hate-blackened husks of human souls.