Many Paths, One Forest
I'm a playwright so you won't find me freely admitting that critics have a valid place in society. In fact, appreciating critics is one of those lessons that I think I have to learn.
This weekend, the first review for my fiance's show came out and it was bad. It was really bad. But (and this is not the first time this has happened by any means) it's a great show and the audience response was excellent.
My last show got a good review, a mediocre review and an awful review. So which one was right? Again, the audience response was really great. The show before that got mostly really good reviews, with one or two really bad ones. Again, the audience response was great.
I have a hard time with critics. Yes, they love theater. Yes, they do their jobs because at least someone has decided that they know something about what they're reviewing. But you can't stop there. You can't just say that they're only doing a service. It's a little like saying that the hunter hunts because he enjoys using his tracking ability; he enjoys exhibiting his understanding of the movements and behavior of his prey; and he enjoys cooking and serving his game.
This may all be true, but you can't overlook the killing.
I think that you are not a successful critic if you have to close your eyes when you squeeze the trigger. I think that you'll never last if you don't actually like the kickback, the spray of blood, and Bambie's last shudder over a pile of pee-soaked leaves.
Most theater is bad. Most of it is boring, draining even. If you last as a critic, you have to last because you like to kill it. And for that reason mostly, I have largely unenlightened feelings toward critics.
Who are these people, I wonder? We encounter critics all the time, don't we? I can recall meeting a few people at the beginning of my writing career who made comments that nearly derailed my ambitions.
What about the every day people who offer unsolicited criticism over breakfast or out their car windows? What about us? When do we cross the line and share an opinion that badly hurts or is way off the mark?
The urge to kill Bambie is in all of us--but none of us is evil. I don't believe in evil. We look at a deer and we see Bambie. I have no idea what that hunter sees, but I can guarantee you it's not the same thing that we see.
How many of us have shouted at someone out our car window, only to be yelled at by someone just like us a week later for doing the same thing? You're the Bambie. They're the hunter. Right?
This is a highly subjective place, this universe. I learn that more and more these days. And it's the universe's subjectivity that keeps me from actively forming and maintaining new friendships. I've had too many friends disappoint me. I've had too many run-ins with egos that track other egos, rifles in hand, desperate to find a weakness.
But this is my loss. I think the mistake I make is to think that if one person has one version of the truth and another person has another, then the truth declares a mistrial. It's time to pack it up and go home.
Not so. No one owns the truth, but that doesn't mean that there is no truth. It simply means that no one owns it. It means that truth defies our limited reasoning. It means that I have no place demanding that all the critics in the world resign, and that the critics of the world deserve no conduit to the hearts and minds of the criticized.
In other words, critics can talk all they want but opinions are just opinions. And I can complain all I want about critics, but I'm doing little more than criticizing.
I'm a playwright so you won't find me freely admitting that critics have a valid place in society. In fact, appreciating critics is one of those lessons that I think I have to learn.
This weekend, the first review for my fiance's show came out and it was bad. It was really bad. But (and this is not the first time this has happened by any means) it's a great show and the audience response was excellent.
My last show got a good review, a mediocre review and an awful review. So which one was right? Again, the audience response was really great. The show before that got mostly really good reviews, with one or two really bad ones. Again, the audience response was great.
I have a hard time with critics. Yes, they love theater. Yes, they do their jobs because at least someone has decided that they know something about what they're reviewing. But you can't stop there. You can't just say that they're only doing a service. It's a little like saying that the hunter hunts because he enjoys using his tracking ability; he enjoys exhibiting his understanding of the movements and behavior of his prey; and he enjoys cooking and serving his game.
This may all be true, but you can't overlook the killing.
I think that you are not a successful critic if you have to close your eyes when you squeeze the trigger. I think that you'll never last if you don't actually like the kickback, the spray of blood, and Bambie's last shudder over a pile of pee-soaked leaves.
Most theater is bad. Most of it is boring, draining even. If you last as a critic, you have to last because you like to kill it. And for that reason mostly, I have largely unenlightened feelings toward critics.
Who are these people, I wonder? We encounter critics all the time, don't we? I can recall meeting a few people at the beginning of my writing career who made comments that nearly derailed my ambitions.
What about the every day people who offer unsolicited criticism over breakfast or out their car windows? What about us? When do we cross the line and share an opinion that badly hurts or is way off the mark?
The urge to kill Bambie is in all of us--but none of us is evil. I don't believe in evil. We look at a deer and we see Bambie. I have no idea what that hunter sees, but I can guarantee you it's not the same thing that we see.
How many of us have shouted at someone out our car window, only to be yelled at by someone just like us a week later for doing the same thing? You're the Bambie. They're the hunter. Right?
This is a highly subjective place, this universe. I learn that more and more these days. And it's the universe's subjectivity that keeps me from actively forming and maintaining new friendships. I've had too many friends disappoint me. I've had too many run-ins with egos that track other egos, rifles in hand, desperate to find a weakness.
But this is my loss. I think the mistake I make is to think that if one person has one version of the truth and another person has another, then the truth declares a mistrial. It's time to pack it up and go home.
Not so. No one owns the truth, but that doesn't mean that there is no truth. It simply means that no one owns it. It means that truth defies our limited reasoning. It means that I have no place demanding that all the critics in the world resign, and that the critics of the world deserve no conduit to the hearts and minds of the criticized.
In other words, critics can talk all they want but opinions are just opinions. And I can complain all I want about critics, but I'm doing little more than criticizing.
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