The red-headed stepchild of the theatre has to be the critic (followed by the dirty uncle, the dramaturg). The problem with theatre critics in America is not so much that there are so many bad ones--by JOMO's estimate they run about 5 to 3 against--but that even the good ones are unclear what their function in the industry might be.
There is no course of study in any known university to train critics (that we are aware of). Every other role in theatre comes with an academic imprimatur, from a B.A. to a Ph.D. Not even a journalism degree comes equipped with a criticism component (and there are precious few drama critics with journalism degrees, at that). Many drama critic comes from another field. Clive Barnes (New York Post) comes from dance. John Simon (Bloomberg) comes from film. Most drama critics are aficionados, and are hampered by their love. They are either blind (like Barnes) or loathing personified (like Simon).
Of course, there are exceptions to this, the most prominent being Michael Feingold of the Village Voice who understands theatre from the inside out--he has been a director, instructor, playwright and translator of other playwrights. He can dissect a production with both wit and empathy (remember empathy?) He rarely loathes, more rarely raves, and often finds the gold among the dross. He is an enthusiast who laments the shortcomings of his contemporaries (you can see why JOMO holds him in such high regard).
But we find ourselves asking: What should dramatic criticism do, and what should a critic be?
While nobody likes to define in the negative, let us start out by declaring that nobody cares what a critic likes or dislikes. Few people know a critic personally, and the few that JOMO has met would not be worth the time it takes to drive through Wendy's, much less spend an evening with at the theatre. Audiences actually expect critics to have standards, which means that they have seen and analyzed every component of theatre, either at the university level or in the profession. Just as interior designers should know the difference between an Adirondack chair and an andiron, a drama critic should know the difference between naturalism and expressionism (for example).
But more than that, the drama critic should have an appreciation for naturalism and expressionism. They should know the strengths and weaknesses of each (and know them when they see them). A drama critic should be able to recognize the relevance of a revival as well as the shock of the new. The critic should know when an actor is on or off, and the ideas that went into the formulation of each performance; should know what a director does and whether they've done it for the show they're watching; should understand design from both its painterly (or sculptural) technique and its relevance as visual metaphor for the action.
In short, the drama critic should be the kind of person that every member of the audience should want to be: insightful and appreciative about the entire experience laid out before them, taking away every morsel of intelligence and emotion the artists have worked long and hard to create. They should also dismiss all the irrelevancies and trivia in a performance with no more effort than tying their shoes, because to dwell on the shortcomings of a show is like carping on the airline food you've had to buy. So what? You're still flying...
Then what is the role of the drama critic? If the worst critics are cheerleaders and cynics, what are the best critics supposed to do?
Of course, if an amazing production comes along, it is the critic's responsibility to champion it as both cultural signpost and a jolly night out. If the production is awful, then yes, raise the red flag and tell us why our time is better spent with the Heroes Season One DVD.
But we all know that most plays fall into the vast gray area between Grey Gardens and Moose Murders. What should a critic tell us then?
First and foremost is always context. If we're at a LORT company, our expectations are different than if we're at the Oakdale Middle School. Neil Simon and David Hare have different agendas. If the show is clearly a pre-Broadway tryout (here JOMO remembers fondly that night at Aida at the Alliance when the scenery failed) does that change how you watch it? How? And should an audience see it the same way as the critic? Why? Tell us!
And then comes content. And this is where all we have laid out before comes into play. Tell us what's going on. What is the event? Who contributes? How?
Finally comes comment. Why does any of this matter? Is the story a reflection of our times? Of all times? Does the acting touch the mind and the heart? Does the design clarify or obscure? Does the event bring us together as an audience or fracture us further--and does it succeed in its goals?
Critics know we want to know these things. The best ones tell us. (PS--check out the London Times today, June 24, for a further discussion on this)
Our next post is going to dissect the goal of the theatre company in America, and why it isn't putting on shows.
Next: The Fruits of Enlightenment.
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