Recently
I was having a small hissy fit about critics who give away show
secrets in their reviews. I was feeling so self-righteous I almost
thought I would blog on it. But thankfully I thought better of it.
Instead, I decided to interview two great critics I know. Kate
Copstick is based in Edinburgh, Scotland, UK, and reviews comedy for
The Scotsman. Colin Thomas is based in Vancouver, BC, Canada,
and reviews theatre for The Georgia Straight. Both wear
fetchingly bold glasses, and both were totally generous about giving
me their time.
1) What do you
love/hate about your work as a critic?
COLIN THOMAS: I get
to think and feel for a living. Who could complain about that?
And, of course, I love
going to shows. I think that theatre is the most compassionate art
form; it’s about imagining ourselves into the lives of other
people, after all. That kind of imagining allows us to let go of the
illusion of coherent—and isolated—identity. I’m all for that. I firmly believe that our interior selves are all
far more beautiful, complex, and chaotic than we usually let on.
One
of the great joys of my job is discovering a new talent—a talent
that is either new to me or new to the world. I remember seeing my
first Caryl Churchill play, Ice
Cream,
for instance, and realizing about halfway through that the playwright
was fucking with my narrative expectations—with the lie of justice
that underlies so many narratives in our culture, for instance, the
lie of order. That was so exciting! And I just saw a young woman
named Camille Legg play Romeo in a Studio 58 production of Romeo
+ Juliet
(that’s how they
rendered the title). It’s thrilling when you see somebody like that
and you go, “Oh my god. There’s one. She’s got it. She’s
really got it.”
I
don’t think that I hate anything about my job. Sometimes online
comments bug me, but, even in that weird—and annoyingly
anonymous—forum, my experience is generally pretty positive.
KATE COPSTICK: I
love the fact that my job is to make insightful, interesting, useful
comments on a performance/ performer. That is to say that it is a mix
of the emotional and the intellectual. I get to consider and opine.
Two of my favourite things! Whereas other opinionated people just go
to a bar after a show and point out everything that they liked/
hated/ were irritated by in a show, I get to tell the world (well, a
bit of it). I love to analyse. I like to know why things work. Why
one line will make you cry and another simply seem bathetic. I love
that one word in another line can make the difference between
hilarity and nothing. And getting to write about it.
What I hate is the way
that the comics (and really only the comics) have turned me into a
sort of points system. That is all a review is to them. And I don't
like that being a critic makes me wary of becoming close friends with
some spectacular people. I cannot review someone I am really close
to. I would forgive them things I might not forgive someone else and
that would not be fair.
2) How do your other
creative pursuits inform how you approach the craft of reviewing?
What kind of difference(s) do you notice between critics who are
artists, and those who aren't?
COLIN THOMAS: I’ve
worked as a playwright and I currently earn about half of my income
by story editing novels and screenplays. As a result, I am all over
narrative structure and thematic development.
Because I’ve been a
critic for 30 years, I’m in love with rewarding surprises. Let’s
hear it for innovation!
And, way back when, I
used to be an actor. When I first became a critic, the dynamics of
acting were more alive in my flesh. That responsiveness has faded,
but I like to think it’s still there to some degree; I fancy that
I can tell, for instance, when a selfish actor is creating a black
hole on-stage—not giving anything back to their fellow performers.
Because I’m familiar
with the processes of writing,
performing, and rehearsing, I might be able to differentiate the
relationships between those processes a little bit more clearly. When
is an actor trapped by a script, for instance, and when are they not
realizing its potential?
All
of that said, I’ve read terrific critics who don’t have a lot of
experience practising the arts forms that they’re writing about.
I’m thinking about Frank Rich, for instance, John Lahr, Pauline
Kael…
KATE COPSTICK: I
think it helps that I have been a performer —all kinds of performer
from straight actor through cabaret to stand up. It does make me
quite unforgiving of performers who witter on about how hard their
job is. It also makes me intolerant of dishonesty in performance. I
failed as a stand up because I had no idea who I was then and just
wanted to impress people with how clever I was. There was no person
there. And so I know a bad comic when I see one. I know a game
playing actor when I see one. I know an onstage bully. And I have
been a writer and director so I know tricks. I think when you know a
game from the inside you know when people are cheating. And a cheap
cheat irritates me.
3) How do you feel
about the star system?
KATE COPSTICK: I
hate it. It is a relatively new thing. And the comics love it because
they and their PRs just star count. They do not care where the stars
come from as long as there are plenty of them. One female comic
demanded of her PR "quantity not quality" in her stars.
Also— again in the comedy section predominantly— it makes for
laziness. Audiences will look at the star numbers and simply ignore
the actual review. I have a huge desire to write a blisteringly
scathing review of a show, describing an hour and a performer without
merit and then put five stars at the top. See who goes along just for
the stars. The stars are good for no one except tour bookers and PR.
COLIN THOMAS: From
a consumer point of view, I can understand the desire for a shortcut,
but, basically, I find the star system lazy and reductive. It shrinks
artistic endeavours into quantifiable and commodifiable products.
Thank Christ the paper that I write for doesn’t use star ratings.
4) One thing I
appreciate about your reviews is that you give readers a FLAVOR of
what they will experience if they see the show, but you don't give
anything away. How do you do that? Are you sensitive to the concept
of not writing spoilers, or are you just focused on something else
entirely?
KATE COPSTICK: Oh I
am TOTALLY aware that - with the good shows and performers - the
audience HAS to come to it fresh. The surprises and the twists and
the turns have to be theirs to discover. If you already know the
twist at the end then that will colour the whole show for you. You
are negating the writer and performer's work and at the same time
spoiling the audience's experience. It is ALWAYS possible to describe
the flavour of a piece without resorting to quotes or simply
rehearsing the narrative line. The surprises are not yours to give
away, the words not yours to fill up your prose. A critic has to have
respect for both the production and the audience. And it is MUCH more
interesting for me to do it that way. Other wise it becomes a Junior
School essay on "what I saw last night at the theatre."
COLIN THOMAS: In my
enthusiasm for an idea or a show, I have given things away a couple
of times and, when I realized what I'd done, I felt shitty. So, you
know, behaviour modification is at work.
Mostly, though, I
consciously try to give readers enough specific information to
support my analysis and, hopefully, to intrigue them. But that’s a
tricky dance, especially with comedy: to give readers the flavour of
a comedy and make them want to see it, you’ve kind of got to give a
way a couple of the best lines. I limit the amount I quote and I
count on the fact that the jokes I do give away are always going to
be funnier in the context of a live performance than they are in
black and white on the page.
5) How would you
describe your effect on/relationship to performers: do they notice
you in the audience, how do they experience your reviews, what kinds
of conversations do you and the artists you review engage in? What
advice do you have for those getting reviewed?
KATE COPSTICK: I am
always noticed and very frequently pointed out in an audience. I am
used to the "Oh god, Kate Copstick's in the audience, now I'm
fucked." There are so many new comics that most of them know me
by reputation only. And for some reason my reputation is fierce. I am
always honest. And if a show has been diabolical then I try to slip
away and NOT talk to the performer. When I do the Grouchy Club
(monthly in London and daily at The Fringe) we get loads of comics
turning up and if they ask me questions I will answer honestly—
they ask at their own risk. As I say, I find it hard to get too close
to a performer because then it is not fair for me to review them and
I do know that my reviews in Edinburgh are wanted. The brave people
do come up and challenge me on my star count. I really do not mind
that. I am always happy to explain why I wrote what I did. That is
only fair.
COLIN THOMAS: Because
I want to build better—more informed, more respectful—relationships
with artists, every year I go and talk to the whole school at Studio
58. (The Studio is part of Langara University here in Vancouver and
one of the best theatre training centres I know of.)
I figure that mostly my
job on those days is to show up and be human. I’ve been a theatre
critic for over 30 years and, in the eyes of many, that makes me an
institution, which means that I should be resented on principle. I
talk to the emerging artists at Studio 58 to humanize my relationship
with them. I talk about my biases and my experience. I let them know
that I’m sincerely interested in my opinions being part of a
discussion— with them.
I almost always cry at
some point during these talks; I love theatre and I love students, so
it's a potent combination. I figure it’s a good thing when the
scary judge that they’ve come to expect turns out to be a bald,
bawling, 63-year-old homosexual.
I encourage folks who are
getting reviewed to look for the things in the review that are
useful. Is there a handy pull-quote? Better yet, is there a workable
insight? If so, go with those things and ignore the rest. (This is
easier said than done, I realize; as an actor and playwright, I have
been on the receiving end of both positive and negative reviews.)
To get back to the
earlier part of this question: I hope that I’m invisible to artists
when I’m in the theatre, but I realize that often I’m not. All I
can do about that is refuse to sit in the front-row seats that
publicists sometimes reserve for me.
I love respectful and
engaged conversations with artists and audience members.
Disappointingly, artists sometimes respond to reviews with ad hominem
attacks: “You’re too old to appreciate my brilliance.” But, at
other times, discussions with artists and audience members can be a
gift. I reviewed a show called “Broken Sex Doll”, for instance,
and, after my review was posted online, the online comments convinced
me to change the review before it went to print.
6) How do you think you
affect readers' decisions about what they see? How do you think your
readers would describe your tastes?
KATE COPSTICK: I
know people go to see things that I review well— but I am not sure
whether they read the whole review or just look at the stars ...
which I agonise over quantifying. My tastes now have been described
to me as "out there." And "The weirder the better."
I am now known as a big fan of the Free Fringes and the tiny shows.
The "the weirder the better" thing is not true. I simply
love honesty and bravery in a show and in its performer. And if
honest turns out to be weird then I will defend it. If it is
performed well. And well written. The Malcolm Hardee Awards (which I
judge) are all about the "fringe" acts that don't fit into
any niche ... what alternative used to mean. Before it turned into a
term for irritating, middle class faux irony and "so bad it is
good" nonsense.
COLIN THOMAS: For
big touring shows— like when Cats comes to town for the thousandth
time— I’m sure my reviews carry virtually zero weight.
For local shows, I think
I’m pretty widely read and I believe that readership is discerning.
Still, everybody knows that the most important factor in selling
shows is word of mouth, and that’s as it should be: it’s good to
make your decisions based on the advice of a trusted source.
I suspect that the Fringe
is the event at which reviews carry the most weight; there are so
many shows to choose from, and, especially in Vancouver, where the
coverage by the dailies is appalling, there are few sources of
information. Fortunately, I frickin’ love the Fringe; it’s my
favourite time of the year.
How would my readers
describe my tastes? Geez, I don’t know. When I’m writing review,
I assume that I’m talking to a smart person who doesn’t
necessarily have a lot of insider knowledge. I’m hope readers think
I’m smart— and entertaining. And, if they read the reviews, I
hope that the artists involved will find my comments fair. Mostly,
though, I just want to articulate my response as clearly as I can.
And there you have it.
Cool, right? And how about those fun British/Canadian spellings?!
On days when we're feeling
bitchy and low about some shitty review by a shitty writer who
doesn't understand us, let us remember and feel grateful for the
critics who care, who are deeply thoughtful, who are fighting the
good fight to be in meaningful dialogue with the art they love. Fuck
yeah great critics! Critique ON!!