In compiling his top ten of
2011 list, the Times’ Ben Brantley
wrote, “This was a
year for celebrating both the enduring power of traditional theater and the
creative stealth bombs that can be planted within it, for putting new and
explosive life into classic vessels.”
On the other hand, Terry Teachout, of the WSJ, called this “the year of the revival.” For his own list, Charles Isherwood
found a trend in “American playwriting that strives to tell subtler if less
handily marketable truths.” And Bay
Area critic Chloe Veltman has called 2011 “the Year of the Puppeteer.”
I’m not going to do a top ten list, and I’m not going to reveal my
descriptor for 2011 (at least, not until my next review comes out Tuesday
night). But I will use this
arbitrary marker of time as an occasion to reflect on my criticism. Obviously, the big event of the year
was switching papers. But the
smaller developments (and some are quite
small) deserve contemplation, too.
I’ve now reread every published review of the year (no small
undertaking), and here are some thoughts:
Most reviews I now remember so poorly that I can reread them in genuine
suspense. Sometimes they even seem
like they were written by another person.
I made some mistakes I’ve mostly overcome (thanks largely to my new
editor), like the information overload in this clunker:
These pre-show antics are far from the only contemporary allusions director Jon Tracy makes in Frank Galati’s adaptation of John Steinbeck’s classic novel about the Joad family’s journey from the dustbowl to California during the Great Depression.
Yikes!
But there were also some mistakes I still make: wordy transitions,
excessive colons and dashes.
(Periods just feel so harsh!)
On the other hand, a few reviews still feel like well-written essays in
their own right, and some descriptions were effective enough to conjure images
I’d forgotten about. Snark, as
I’ve written elsewhere, looks harsher than deserved in retrospect. And I like most of my conclusions that
introduced a bigger idea or broader context, to give the show and the review
more meaning, but once in a while that device ended up looking cheesy, probably
when I tried to force it on the review instead of letting it emerge naturally.
One idea that came up again and again was “insistence on the stage,” a
phrase which I should attribute to one of my professors, Larry Eilenberg. (Just another plagiarizing grad
student!) It refers to a work of
art that could only take place, or at least resonate fully, in live stage
performance—not, like many plays, on the page, the television or the silver
screen. It’s been helpful to refer
to when I’m trying to understand why I’m bored with or enchanted by a
production. More broadly, it also
reminds me that I need to constantly ask myself what performance is, how it
operates, and why it’s special.
When I keep those questions in mind, as I hope to more consistently in
2012, my reviewing becomes more informed, more engaging and more accessible.
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