In my defence

Yesterday, I published an article by the wonderful Imogen Clare-Wood which discussed the ethics of student theatre criticism. Unsurprisingly, I disagree with a vast amount of what she says, and hope this post will set out a decent counter-argument.

Firstly, I’d like to point out that there are a few points of Imogen’s which I agree on. Most importantly is her assertion that “there is no such thing as a definite opinion”. The debate which theatre causes is one of its best assets. The immediacy of watching a live show with a thousand other people sparks something inside us which forces us to question and argue about topics raised in the respective texts. Our brain is engaged, our intellect challenged, and what we believe about that show we will fight to the hilt to be heard. And at the same time, we respect each individual reaction which our fellow playgoers have; if their opinion wasn’t different from our own, then what we believe wouldn’t be as unique.

I must also agree that the phrase with which I signed off my first review (which I shan’t repeat here for fear of further embarrassment, but which you can find elsewhere on my blog) was somewhat misguided and sounded ridiculous. In my defence, I was trying to find something pithy to round off my first review of the festival, but in the end it came out as pure comedy. It’s also worth acknowledging that Imogen’s description of me (“a Pater Pan-esque figure (complete with enormous grim and hair with a life of its own) – disarmingly boyish and with a belly laugh to put a hyena to shame”) is fairly accurate, and one which I am rather proud of. This, however, is where our agreement ends.

Many people at this year’s NSDF took issue with what they felt to be “overly nit-picky criticism”, with audiences looking “for a reason to fault rather than praise the productions they see”. Now, I would never condone being nit-picky and critical just for the sake of it, but as I mentioned in a previous post, there is beauty to be found in detail. A production could have the most extraordinary overall vision and huge production values, but if the details are not taken care of then no one will believe in the world created on stage. All we are is a vast collection of minutiae, built up to create a cohesive whole. Getting these details right in performance is the difference between a good and a superb production.

It’s untrue that audiences at NSDF go into a theatre looking to fault a production. I, for one, hope every time I enter a theatre that what I’m about to see will blow me away and change my life. Perhaps that’s why it’s easy to be critical; high expectations mean we are undoubtedly going to be disappointed, but by looking at what’s right with a production rather than what’s wrong with it, we are actually doing practitioners a disservice. Being praise-loving, attention-seeking theatre people, we hang on to every bit of praise like a baby to a rattle, and can become blinkered to what’s at fault with our work. I’m not trying to take the moral high ground here, but highlighting these issues means directors will constantly strive to improve their work. As the next generation, we cannot afford to become complacent.

Lack of clarity is one of the worst sins in theatre. Now, that’s not to say that a production can’t be absurd or confusing (our world is, after all), but it should always be clear what the director’s intention is. A clear cohesive vision should be palpable, and an audience should be utterly convinced that what they are seeing is the product of hours of thought and that every choice made has been decided for a reason. There were many directors at Scarborough last week who weren’t able to justify their choices in discussions, merely implying that it “looked good” or “felt right”. Criticism will force these productions and their creative teams to consider the reasoning behind their methods, hopefully improving their technique (I know this isn’t the role of criticism – that’s another topic altogether – but at a student theatre festival, where we all learn from each other, it seems to be a fair point to make).

Imogen continues “there seems to be a tendency to take things too seriously [at Noises Off] and writers representing themselves as too professional”, taking issue with the fact I refuse to use terms such as “in my opinion” and “personally” in my reviews. But if the cast and crew of the shows at the Festival are allowed to act professionally, then why aren’t the critics? Yes, NSDF is a celebration of student theatre, but at the same time it is a place to learn and to try our hand at being in a ‘professional’ setting for a week. If we fail to give an impression of professionalism, and go around giving each other hugs, beaming and lying “I loved it dah-ling”, then we run the risk of being termed as ‘luvvies’ and the arts will continue to be seen as a soft target. Pretending to be professional is not a bad thing; it forces us to think seriously about something. If we only ever stuck to our job descriptions, we wouldn’t put up shelves or cook for a dinner party – we try to do these things to the best of our ability whilst acknowledging a lack of experience and the fact we’re not professionals. Everyone at the Festival knows that the critics writing for NOFF are students and are merely offering up their opinion. Phrases like “in my opinion” are utterly unnecessary when the writer’s name is printed at the top of the page. Using these words can make a review fluffy and less readable, and anyone who isn’t able to understand that the words written are not bonafide truth but the opinion of the writer should perhaps reconsider their ability to create art. I would never pretend I’m a “theatrical deity”, but if a review is stated as personal opinion, it moves out of the realm of journalism and instead becomes a diary entry. I am always willing to talk to practitioners about their work and my opinion, and in fact did so a lot throughout the week.

There was a lot of discussion this week about the “competitive” attitude many people at the festival felt. This cannot be ascribed to Noises Off and its contributors. It is the result of having a bag of awards to hand out at the end of the week. I don’t deny that these shows and performances deserve recognition, but forcing shows to pit their wills against each other does seem at times to be counter-productive. At one point, a friend of mine overheard company members coming out of a show sneering “we’ve got this in the bag”; if people are coming to the festival with the sole aim of winning awards, then they are there for the wrong reasons (I think we can all agree on that). It’s also worth noting that most of the people who write for Noises Off are not involved with shows at the festival, but are merely there to soak up the atmosphere and enjoy the theatre on show. For this reason, they aren’t concerned about awards and are able to represent views which aren’t concerned with making certain shows look good. That said, however, company members should not be deterred from writing for the magazine simply because they have vested interest – if anything, that makes their opinion more valid. The only reason someone shouldn’t write for Noises Off is if they don’t believe what they write or if they’re not willing to put their name to it.

I am fully aware that in the past 1000+ words I’ve given an impression of me as an opinionated, obnoxious, argumentative prick who can’t just let something be. And you’d be right. But these debates are important. The theatrical world is ever changing and always alive; without difference in opinion it becomes stale and elitist. I know I’m repeating myself, but we must not become complacent. As the next generation of theatre practitioners, we should constantly challenge each other’s work, open our eyes to new ways of doing things and talk about how we do that. The arts are an important and vital part of society, but if we celebrate everything, good or bad, it will seem like we’re becoming self-congratulatory and damn right incestuous (an apt word to use in a discussion about NSDF). If everyone involved at NSDF went home thinking they’d done the best they could and were brilliant, we’d be leading ourselves into a sorry state of affairs. Let’s enjoy each other’s work, yes, but being positive just for the sake of it is perhaps more damaging than the supposed mindless negativity Imogen’s article rallies against.

(Theatre) Blogging Along

On the Guardian’s Theatre Blog today Mark Fisher has commented on the differences between tweeting thoughts about plays and writing full reviews. Due to Twitter being an informal medium, critics seem to be more open to admitting emotions online than in print articles. Citing Lyn Gardner’s tweet and subsequent review as an example, Fisher suggests that critics shouldn’t be afraid to add an air of subjectivity to their reviews, akin to the reviews of the West End Whingers. He’s forgetting something, however; bloggers aren’t in print.

It is easy for a theatre blogger to describe his or her emotions about a piece of theatre within the context of their review, for they are likely to have their work read only by people actively searching for that particular page and surfers who enjoy their style. A print journalist’s review, however, is consumed in a far more passive manner, as readers peruse national newspapers read by millions of people.

This creates a mini-paradox. Let me explain. Reviews in national newspapers are hidden amongst all sorts of other articles and comments, and are read in the context of a newspaper. It is unlikely, for example, that the average reader has bought the tome just to read said review. This means, therefore, that readers of printed reviews are of the ‘casual’ demographic. Those reading blogs, however, are far more likely to be specifically interested in theatre or a particular review, so are likely to be members of a more ‘professional’ or ‘niche’ population. This is why there is a split between the two modes and is also why newspaper critics are unable to discuss plays subjectively.

Call me elitist, but we need professional critics writing authoritatively and objectively. Lose them, and every Tom, Dick and Harry will come along claiming to know everything about everything. When we read a review by Michael Billington or Charles Spencer, we know that with their words comes the accumulated knowledge of a good few decades in the theatre world. When reading blogs, we are more likely to expect to be entertained and gauge overall opinion.

Coming back to the original context of Tweeting, I must point out that Fisher has forgotten something else. In the wonderful world of Twitter there is an immediacy which is impossible to portray in a print review. Followers want to know how the reviewer feels now, shunning hindsight and thought, because that’s what theatre is supposed to do. It is for this reason that Mark Shenton’s mini-reviews on Twitter often feel rather distant and too considered - a gut-reaction would be better straight after a play than a pretentious 140 characters (which I know I am often guilty of). When writing the review, however, the critic must add a layer of reason and stand back from their personal experience to write an informed piece of writing. My Tweet after seeing Jerusalem read: “Sweating, heart pounding and eyes watering. Mark Rylance is a God and Jez Butterworth a genius”. In my review, however, I minimised this to “Byron’s last monologue… sends the audience’s collective heart beating and as the curtain comes down we are left shaking”. Had I not, the review may have sounded more amateurish than it did already and would have been pretty much unreadable.

Whilst I agree that theatre critics should be more ready to admit their genuine feelings about a play, this is only necessary when it truly affects them. We must remember that they can see up to six shows every week and probably review a vast amount of insignificant and inconsequential theatre. This means that when we do see a glimmer of emotion shining through we listen and take heed by booking a ticket. I like my theatre critics just as they are thanks very much.