Tuesday, 13 December 2016

How to Write About Theatre in Small Community

IN DECEMBER 2016, I was invited by Dr James Corby of the University of Malta (working with the Arts Council Malta) to run a mini-course on arts criticism and join a panel discussion with artists and writers at St James Cavallier. Here are some thoughts I had on the pros and cons of working in a small arts community.



Monday, 21 November 2016

Trumping the critics


MIKE Pence, Hamilton and responding to the moment. Author Mark Fisher discusses what happens when the world outside enters the theatre.


Thursday, 17 November 2016

Fictional theatre critics: captured!

THEATRE Criticism: Changing Landscapes is an excellent anthology of essays put together by Duska Radosavljevic. It includes lots of illuminating commentaries from around the world on subjects ranging from the unreliability of criticism in the old Soviet Union to the newly emerging history of internet criticism. 

The essays are intelligent, engaging and serious. With one exception. I confess to writing quite the silliest chapter in the book – an overview of fictional theatre critics in films, plays and novels. 

Silly it may be, but I don't think I've enjoyed writing anything more. It was a fantastic excuse to read and watch all kinds of things, ranging from pulp-fiction romances to devastating studies of the critical mindset (everyone should read Wilfrid Sheed's The Critic).

After consuming more of this than could possibly be healthy, I came up with a bit of a theory about people's misconceptions of theatre critics. You can read that in the book. The fun part, though, was doing the research, so here for your entertainment are a few examples you can find online.

Odd to find a theatre critic in a video game, but we'll start with this one from Psychonauts, which typifies the way the job is perceived:



The purple-headed amphibian is a crude caricature who could be a descendent of Frederick Skeates in the 1936 movie Men Are Not Gods, an imperious, pipe-smoking autocrat, who dictates his review to his secretary and refuses to say good evening or even to answer the phone (his high-handed manner makes it easier for his secretary to justify rewriting the review to the benefit of the lead actor):



Here’s a remake of A Piano in the House, a 1962 episode of The Twilight Zone. Fitzgerald Fortune is a 'theatre critic and cynic at large' who gains sadomasochistic pleasure in hearing his wife say how much she hates him and his friend confessing to being in love with her. 'You just need someone to bully and torture when you feel like it,' says his wife, framing him as a critic with a psychological desire to 'hurt people': 



Even songwriters seem to hold a grudge against theatre critics. Here's Jimmy Webb's 1970 song Dorothy Chandler Blues. Like many fictional critics, this one is wearing a bow tie, is angry with his wife and appears hell-bent on destruction. 'Good evening Mr Critic/ How many shows did you close?' demands Webb, implying that a man who hasn't written any 'songs of love' should not have the right to 'destroy' them: 



Lightening the tone, here's clown Bill Irwin in The Regard of Flight being interrupted by Michael O'Connor, playing a comically pedantic critic, missing the point about what's going on:




Finally, more laughs here as Alfred Molina stars as a children's theatre critic:



Tuesday, 16 August 2016

Critics versus Creatives 2016

Edinburgh Festival Fringe panel discussion between theatre designers and theatre critics


Thursday, 12 May 2016

Better Living Through Criticism

AT INTERVALS through Better Living Through Criticism, a free-wheeling meditation on how we talk about art, critic AO Scott changes the pace with a series of imagined interviews. Hold on, says his alter ego every couple of chapters, you've been saying this, that and the other, but have you considered this other thing? 

He may be asking his own questions, but the format forces Scott to focus. In a book that can be airy, discursive and tangential, these chapters are the most rooted. (They also have none of the coyness of the imaginary interviews in Michael Billington's 101 Greatest Plays, but that's another story.)

In the last of these dialogues, Scott effectively reviews his own book. In the voice of the questioner, he writes: "To be frank I'm still not sure I know what criticism is, unless it is whatever a critic happens to be doing. And in that case what is a critic?"

It's a pretty fundamental question to be asking after 250 pages. Should it really take this long to get to the point? The answer Scott provides is that "criticism is both paradoxical and tautological. It's whatever a critic does." 

And if it's not too paradoxical and tautological to say so, herein lies the strength and weakness of his book. Reading it is like watching a kite on a blustery day. It dazzles and delights, dips and dives, loops round itself, gets tied in knots, untangles itself and returns to surprise you. Sometimes, though, it disappears from view. Frequently you lose sight of the thin cord connecting it to the ground. At such moments, to paraphrase Scott himself, I'm not sure I know what this book is.

Should I say what it isn't? Well, it's not a practical guide to being a critic, nor is it a historical overview of critical thinking, although Scott shows great breath of knowledge and understanding on that subject. Although I love the title, I'm not sure this book actually does offer better living through criticism.

Rather, it is a philosophical meander through the questions and contradictions that criticism presents. How can a review be a subjective expression that also aspires to universal truth? What's the point of an activity that comes in between the artist and the audience and yet, strictly, is not required by either? Is criticism a creative act that has artistic value in itself or is it tomorrow's chip paper? 

At its most worthwhile, criticism sets itself above the shallowness and hype of the market, so why is it so often treated as a mere consumer guide? Isn't it true to say a work of art is itself a piece of criticism in that it reflects and comments on the world around it? Is the critic friend or enemy? Or both?

Scott has no shortage of opinions (he's a critic; how could he not?) but he is more interested in the questions than the answers. That's his point. The more you consider the act of criticism, the more conundrums it throws up. They are what make it infinitely interesting. 

This is an activity that not only provokes self-reflection in the critic (why am I doing this?) but also a similar line of questioning from everyone else (why are you doing this – and who gave you the right?) Despite the uncertainty, despite the animosity and despite the multiplicity of answers, criticism keeps on happening – and for as long as people keep thinking, it always will.

And here I am, criticising Scott's book and here you are, reading about it and now you'll go away with an opinion of my piece of writing about his piece of writing and maybe you'll even write down your opinion . . . and the process is never ending. So should you read his book? Of course you should. Only then will I be able to ask you the questions Scott says are the "origin of criticism": "Did you feel that? Was it good for you? Tell the truth." (Mark Fisher)

Better Living Through Criticism, AO Scott (Jonathan Cape)

Thursday, 24 March 2016

What I've learnt from my rock'n'roll criticism tour

Liverpool Hope University
SINCE How to Write About Theatre came out last summer, I've given around 20 talks, workshops and roundtable discussions everywhere from Edinburgh to Truro, from Manchester to Canterbury, from Colwyn Bay to London. 

Largely for my own amusement, I've been calling it my rock'n'roll theatre criticism tour. 

The lack of groupies and cocaine has been disappointing, but getting round the country has been great. With Bob Dylan as my model, I'm thinking of it as a never-ending criticism tour – a call from the O2 Arena is surely just a matter of time.

So what have I found on my travels? I'm pleased to report that everywhere I've gone, people have shown a high level of engagement in the idea of theatre criticism – although not always for the same reasons. 

In Truro, the half-dozen writers on the New Reviewers programme at Hall for Cornwall are determined to improve the standard of discussion about Cornish culture. In London, the large contingent of directors on the Young Vic's Genesis Directors' Network are keen to find the most productive way to analyse each other's work. In Poole, the Young Reviewers have been stretching their vocabulary by writing about children's shows, dance performances and musicals.

Likewise, students I've met in Canterbury and Chichester, Leeds and Liverpool, Sheffield and Sunderland have been animated by the challenge of translating the theatre they see into words.

Along the way, there have been loads of interesting discussions.


University of Bristol
At the University of Bristol, the students had just seen Matthew Zajac's excellent one-man show The Tailor of Inverness and were now working on their reviews. The play is about Zajac's father who was born in a part of Poland that became the Ukraine, was drafted into the armies of both Communist Russia and Nazi Germany and fled – depending on whose story you believe – across most of Europe before settling in Glasgow and finally Inverness.

One of the students had an intriguing question. Being half-Polish himself, he was wondering whether it would be appropriate to include his own family story in the review. I could see his dilemma. If he wanted to do justice to the work of the artist, wouldn't it be self-indulgent to start banging on about his own story? On the other hand, when he had filtered the show through the lens of his own experience – as all of us do – wouldn't it be relevant to mention it?


University of Chichester
I think it would be very relevant. Whatever his opinion of the show, he is writing from a distinct perspective and, as a fellow audience member, I'd be fascinated to know how that perspective affected his interpretation. As a critic of this particular show, he would have a unique perspective in being half Polish. It would be the thing that made his review stand out from the rest.

I would still expect him to make The Tailor of Inverness his central focus, but if he could tell a parallel story that illuminated Zajac's show in some way, it would only enrich the reader's understanding. Depending on how he chose to structure his review, it could be the way he drew the reader into the story of his encounter with the play. That was the technique Benedict Nightingale used when reviewing the jury-room drama Twelve Angry Men in 1996:


I found myself questioning the Angry Men myth when I sat on a jury recently and found I was the only member convinced that the defendant was guilty of theft. It was deeply disconcerting to be the lion in a den of Fondas.
Falmouth University

With any other play, Nightingale's jury experience would be irrelevant, but here it had a direct application. He was able to use a personal story to explain his reaction to the play, giving the reader an insight into him and the thing he was writing about. 

The only note of caution is not to let the personal anecdote overshadow the play. If Nightingale had been one of several jury members who believed the defendant to be guilty, his story would have carried little weight and could have seemed like an irrelevant or indulgent aside. A personal story is interesting only to the extent it illuminates the production.

At Falmouth University, where my gig even got a review, one student had a great question about how sure a critic can be of the artist's intentions. He gave the example of Stewart Lee who has been known to alienate an audience deliberately as a personal dare to see whether he could bring them back on side again. The critic who didn't understand what the comedian was up to and simply took Lee on face value may assume he was incompetent. 


Christ Church University
This was a game that Telegraph critic Dominic Cavendish took to another level when he gave a deliberately negative review of a Lee show as a kind of meta commentary on the comedian's act:


It feels quite empowering to leave a Stewart Lee gig at the first available opportunity. 

Unsurprisingly, Cavendish's review generated much below-the-line vitriol, but maybe that was what the critic intended. I only suspect this, incidentally, because Cavendish told me he was fully aware of Lee's methods and totally prepared for any backlash. He knew what he was doing. If that was the game Lee was playing as a comedian, why shouldn't he play it as a critic?

In this case, it was as hard to be certain of the critic's intentions as it was to be certain of the comedian's. The best I can say is that most of the time we get the artist's intentions more or less right, but we're all fallible and sometimes we miss the point.

And it's that level of uncertainty that makes the job of writing about theatre endlessly engaging. So here's looking forward to more such discussions on my never-ending criticism tour.


About Me

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Follow me on Twitter at MarkFFisher, WriteAboutTheat and LimelightXTC I am a freelance journalist and critic specialising in theatre and the arts. Publications I write for include the Guardian and the Scotsman. I am the author of The Edinburgh Fringe Survival Guide: how to make your show a success and How to Write About Theatre: A Manual for Critics, Students and Bloggers. I am also editor of The XTC Bumper Book of Fun for Boys and Girls: A Limelight Anthology. From 2000-2003, I was the editor of The List magazine, Glasgow and Edinburgh's arts and events guide.
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