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.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Offending the Audience
If you have any doubt that audiences are stupider than ever, travel to your local Blockbuster and count the number of Norbit DVD's that are rented. You will be staggered.
(overheard at a regional theatre performance last season, two older, well-dressed men in conversation:
"You see they announced the next season in the program?"
"Yeah. A Flea in Her Ear....what is that? A comedy?")
If theatre people worry about how well they're doing in a show, they absolutely despair about audience reaction. It's a small wonder that all the metaphors for success involve the death of the audience. So grateful is the actor that the doltish, sluggish, many-headed beast had deigned to laugh (or just shut the f*** up for two minutes) that naturally they associate theatrical communion with conquest.
David Mamet, in lamenting the ills that beset the theatre, suggested that a root problem was the repetitive, mind-numbing work of acting. He exhorted the actors to approach a performance as one would a hot date. Any actor can tell you that if the actor/audience relationship is like a date, it is usually a blind date with a deformed gargoyle who has a limited grasp of the language.
An Artistic Director once said to JOMO, "Why can't they just give us their money and go home?"
Of course, all of this is just posturing. We love audiences, and not just for their money. We want them to walk out of the theatre smarter, bolder, better than when they came in. We know they want to be in the theatre, at our show, on this night; and not just because The Sopranos is over.
But clearly audiences aren't bright, and at the risk of offense, here is one reason why--a statistic from The League of American Theatres and Producers: over two-thirds of the Broadway audiences acquired their habit for theatre-going from their parents. Not because they went to shows in school, or because shows came to their schools as special events, but because mom and dad dressed them up and hauled them off to Cats. If that becomes your yardstick for entertainment, no wonder a critically lauded (and Tony Award-winning) show like Journey's End closed at a total loss last weekend.
In one respect the educational system has failed the theatre. Schools (and thus teachers and students) do not treat going to the theatre like a hot date, a good-looking companion with lots of potential. Budgets have curtailed field-trips of that sort (indeed, arts education in general), and mandatory standards have shifted the focus of education from the well-rounded student to the marketable job-seeker.
And one thing more:
Empathy is dead.
Remember empathy? The feeling you got when you saw somebody else in a bad situation and you felt for them, really felt for them, and also realized that you yourself you be in that situation just as easily as they could? Empathy is the root element of an audience's relationship to a character in a show. As Lt. Cable notes in South Pacific, empathy--like hate--can be carefully taught. Schools don't teach it, because they rarely teach novels (or plays) that require it. And the Great Satan, the movies, have all but banned empathy from films geared to teen-agers (see anything by Will Ferrell), preferring audiences to laugh at characters rather than with them.
Most plays take empathy as their given. Can any woman not feel for Emily in Act Three of Our Town? She had died in childbirth, and everything she held of value now seems trivial and she weans herself away from life. Or Vivian, suffering from cancer, as her mentor reads from "The Runaway Bunny" in Wit? (This is not to suggest empathy is limited to the dying; read or see Much Ado About Nothing and try not to feel for Beatrice)
But we in the theatre have also failed our audience. We have failed to attract them from an early age to this great art form (there are always exceptions; think of TheatreworksUSA, who creates and tours shows for children from 6-17. One of their best shows was When the Cookie Crumbles, a musical revue about divorce from the kids' point of view. JOMO has done that show, and it moved every child who saw it. When JOMO toured with a different Theatreworks show, the same kids came to see that. They understood what theatre was capable of, because it had touched them).
While many of our resident theatres have student matinees, very few are of shows specifically for students (sit--or act--through a student performance of Death of a Salesman--as JOMO has done--and you'll know). Again, budgets constrain, but so do our imaginations.
People talk about a theatre for all ages, especially in the regions. Theatre for all ages is mostly a myth, like the Yeti. And when it does rear its ugly head, it touches nobody. If we really want to educate and attract an audience, we must cultivate them. We must speak to them at their level early on and journey with them on their path to enlightenment. They want to grow. Let's offend them by speaking directly to their dreams and fears. Let's weed the garden of trivial weeds and give the audience an experience that shakes them to their core. You think you can't do that with The Odd Couple? Then don't do The Odd Couple. Do Godot. It's the same story. It's just as funny and twice as immediate.
And speaking of gardens, our next post will focus on the weeds.
C-r-r-r-itic!
(overheard at a regional theatre performance last season, two older, well-dressed men in conversation:
"You see they announced the next season in the program?"
"Yeah. A Flea in Her Ear....what is that? A comedy?")
If theatre people worry about how well they're doing in a show, they absolutely despair about audience reaction. It's a small wonder that all the metaphors for success involve the death of the audience. So grateful is the actor that the doltish, sluggish, many-headed beast had deigned to laugh (or just shut the f*** up for two minutes) that naturally they associate theatrical communion with conquest.
David Mamet, in lamenting the ills that beset the theatre, suggested that a root problem was the repetitive, mind-numbing work of acting. He exhorted the actors to approach a performance as one would a hot date. Any actor can tell you that if the actor/audience relationship is like a date, it is usually a blind date with a deformed gargoyle who has a limited grasp of the language.
An Artistic Director once said to JOMO, "Why can't they just give us their money and go home?"
Of course, all of this is just posturing. We love audiences, and not just for their money. We want them to walk out of the theatre smarter, bolder, better than when they came in. We know they want to be in the theatre, at our show, on this night; and not just because The Sopranos is over.
But clearly audiences aren't bright, and at the risk of offense, here is one reason why--a statistic from The League of American Theatres and Producers: over two-thirds of the Broadway audiences acquired their habit for theatre-going from their parents. Not because they went to shows in school, or because shows came to their schools as special events, but because mom and dad dressed them up and hauled them off to Cats. If that becomes your yardstick for entertainment, no wonder a critically lauded (and Tony Award-winning) show like Journey's End closed at a total loss last weekend.
In one respect the educational system has failed the theatre. Schools (and thus teachers and students) do not treat going to the theatre like a hot date, a good-looking companion with lots of potential. Budgets have curtailed field-trips of that sort (indeed, arts education in general), and mandatory standards have shifted the focus of education from the well-rounded student to the marketable job-seeker.
And one thing more:
Empathy is dead.
Remember empathy? The feeling you got when you saw somebody else in a bad situation and you felt for them, really felt for them, and also realized that you yourself you be in that situation just as easily as they could? Empathy is the root element of an audience's relationship to a character in a show. As Lt. Cable notes in South Pacific, empathy--like hate--can be carefully taught. Schools don't teach it, because they rarely teach novels (or plays) that require it. And the Great Satan, the movies, have all but banned empathy from films geared to teen-agers (see anything by Will Ferrell), preferring audiences to laugh at characters rather than with them.
Most plays take empathy as their given. Can any woman not feel for Emily in Act Three of Our Town? She had died in childbirth, and everything she held of value now seems trivial and she weans herself away from life. Or Vivian, suffering from cancer, as her mentor reads from "The Runaway Bunny" in Wit? (This is not to suggest empathy is limited to the dying; read or see Much Ado About Nothing and try not to feel for Beatrice)
But we in the theatre have also failed our audience. We have failed to attract them from an early age to this great art form (there are always exceptions; think of TheatreworksUSA, who creates and tours shows for children from 6-17. One of their best shows was When the Cookie Crumbles, a musical revue about divorce from the kids' point of view. JOMO has done that show, and it moved every child who saw it. When JOMO toured with a different Theatreworks show, the same kids came to see that. They understood what theatre was capable of, because it had touched them).
While many of our resident theatres have student matinees, very few are of shows specifically for students (sit--or act--through a student performance of Death of a Salesman--as JOMO has done--and you'll know). Again, budgets constrain, but so do our imaginations.
People talk about a theatre for all ages, especially in the regions. Theatre for all ages is mostly a myth, like the Yeti. And when it does rear its ugly head, it touches nobody. If we really want to educate and attract an audience, we must cultivate them. We must speak to them at their level early on and journey with them on their path to enlightenment. They want to grow. Let's offend them by speaking directly to their dreams and fears. Let's weed the garden of trivial weeds and give the audience an experience that shakes them to their core. You think you can't do that with The Odd Couple? Then don't do The Odd Couple. Do Godot. It's the same story. It's just as funny and twice as immediate.
And speaking of gardens, our next post will focus on the weeds.
C-r-r-r-itic!
Friday, June 8, 2007
To Begin at the Beginning
The question every theatre professional asks himself (herself) from time to time is a primal inquiry that all people confront at some point in their careers:
Can't anybody here play this game?
We've all confronted them--superficial actors, clueless or autocratic directors, artless designers, narrow-minded playwrights; if you work in the regional theatre system (as JOMO does), the frustration is compounded by administrators who are holding onto their jobs for dear life while desperately seeking more meaningful employment at a bigger LORT company and apathetic, ineffectual boards. And to make matters worse, we play before audiences that feel increasingly disconnected from theatre's strengths, wanting more and more of less and less. Nobody is happy where things are. The work doesn't pay well enough, touch audiences deeply enough, create satisfying art. Almost all of us will all die in debt, falling short of our personal goals, failing to advance the art form.
It doesn't have to be this way. Nobody wants it this way.
Let's change it.
As with a systematic overhaul of a failing business model, we must first define the problems, both specific and broad. Over the weeks that follow JOMO will approach each sector of live theatre in America and, using specific examples from coast to coast, attempt to define the impediments that keep theatre from becoming an essential element of our aesthetic and cultural life. Then JOMO will start looking at solutions, in the hope that we can come to some consensus about how to grow the art.
A word about JOMO; if blogs suffer from anything, it is the tone of the rant that infests even the best of them. This comes, in theory, from the single point of view that is inherent in blogs (even when blogs take the form of dialogue). To be consistent with a pluralistic philosophy, JOMO is, therefore, not one single person but several theatre professionals working both on Broadway and in the regional theatre. JOMO has also worked extensively in non-professional theatre in such entertainment centers as Las Vegas, Myrtle Beach and Branson. JOMO has seen a great deal of theatre everywhere, and worked with a great many theatre people. If these bona fides sound vague, it is only because JOMO is hoping to protect both its own identities as well as the people around it. There will be no name calling. Skill and dedication will always be called out; incompetence will be dissected anonymously.
This column is, like theatre itself, a dialogue. Your comments are welcome and will be addressed seriously and publicly. We all need to solve this together. It can and should be a "win-win" situation. You are asked only to please keep your comments short and your observations funny (or at least empathetic).
Speaking of empathy, JOMO closes today with the title of the next posting:
OFFENDING THE AUDIENCE (why it is necessary, and the death of empathy)
Thank you!
JOMO
P.S.--And as if it were planned (it was), read about this weekend's TCG consortium in Minneapolis at www.tcg.org Apparently JOMO is not the only one wondering where we go from here...
Can't anybody here play this game?
We've all confronted them--superficial actors, clueless or autocratic directors, artless designers, narrow-minded playwrights; if you work in the regional theatre system (as JOMO does), the frustration is compounded by administrators who are holding onto their jobs for dear life while desperately seeking more meaningful employment at a bigger LORT company and apathetic, ineffectual boards. And to make matters worse, we play before audiences that feel increasingly disconnected from theatre's strengths, wanting more and more of less and less. Nobody is happy where things are. The work doesn't pay well enough, touch audiences deeply enough, create satisfying art. Almost all of us will all die in debt, falling short of our personal goals, failing to advance the art form.
It doesn't have to be this way. Nobody wants it this way.
Let's change it.
As with a systematic overhaul of a failing business model, we must first define the problems, both specific and broad. Over the weeks that follow JOMO will approach each sector of live theatre in America and, using specific examples from coast to coast, attempt to define the impediments that keep theatre from becoming an essential element of our aesthetic and cultural life. Then JOMO will start looking at solutions, in the hope that we can come to some consensus about how to grow the art.
A word about JOMO; if blogs suffer from anything, it is the tone of the rant that infests even the best of them. This comes, in theory, from the single point of view that is inherent in blogs (even when blogs take the form of dialogue). To be consistent with a pluralistic philosophy, JOMO is, therefore, not one single person but several theatre professionals working both on Broadway and in the regional theatre. JOMO has also worked extensively in non-professional theatre in such entertainment centers as Las Vegas, Myrtle Beach and Branson. JOMO has seen a great deal of theatre everywhere, and worked with a great many theatre people. If these bona fides sound vague, it is only because JOMO is hoping to protect both its own identities as well as the people around it. There will be no name calling. Skill and dedication will always be called out; incompetence will be dissected anonymously.
This column is, like theatre itself, a dialogue. Your comments are welcome and will be addressed seriously and publicly. We all need to solve this together. It can and should be a "win-win" situation. You are asked only to please keep your comments short and your observations funny (or at least empathetic).
Speaking of empathy, JOMO closes today with the title of the next posting:
OFFENDING THE AUDIENCE (why it is necessary, and the death of empathy)
Thank you!
JOMO
P.S.--And as if it were planned (it was), read about this weekend's TCG consortium in Minneapolis at www.tcg.org Apparently JOMO is not the only one wondering where we go from here...
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