Tynan's Anger: HOW TO SAVE THEATER CRITICISM

Image via WikipediaHOW TO SAVE THEATER CRITICISM

Lately there’s been a lot of rambling about the death of theater criticism. Michael Riedel has felt demeaned as an old stodgy covering theater, a far cry from the classic depiction of the theater critic. The Playgoer has wondered whether mainstream theater is now immune to critics in the same way that movies have gotten. On a guest post on The Critical Condition, Variety’s Sam Thielman saw the role of theater criticism deteriorating and scattering across the medium’s spectrum.

Over the next few days, I will give my take on the role of theater criticism and the critic in contemporary and future American theater. In Part One, I explored the differences in the theatergoing experience between the critic and uncommitted audience member. In Part Two, I explore the relevance of theater in a digital age. In Part Three, I will conclude my discussion by outlining the role of a theater critic in the current economic and cultural climate.

PART TWO: Would Kenneth Tynan Twitter? Theater as the ultimate digital diversion.

Most sane people don’t go into theater criticism for a paycheck. Arts criticism in general is becoming an even less profitable way of making money, and theater criticism as a non-academic profession is at this point almost as extinct as the panda (though the image of an attempted mating between a caged Mary McCarthy and Walter Kerr is significantly less adorable). When in doubt, current critics like to point to the death of theater in general. But theater isn’t dead—it’s still got a national appeal even as it has become centralized in a few major areas, and there are communities—yes they’re fragmented, Prof—around the country.

The main reason people go into theater criticism, however, is their desire to be at something like a modern-day Algonquin Roundtable. The theater critic carries a history of status and image that the middle-aged sweater-wearing film critic or the drug-fueled rock critic lacks. There are paintings in New York subway stations of theater critics surrounded by the likes of Eugene O’Neill and George S. Kaufman, Harpo Marx and Edna Ferber. It may seem completely irrational to go into a field for a 70-year-old image, but theater critics do so all the same.

These are the same critics who find absolutely no respite in the digital age. With multiple critics being old, that is to be expected. But there seems to be a larger theme of the Algonquin image crumbling under the image of new media. Would Kenneth Tynan Twitter? Would Bernard Shaw post his rants on his blog without editing them beforehand? The idea of the print journalist critic losing his voice in the digital age hits especially hard with theater criticism, since theater can never really be tapped digitally.

Rather than a problem, however, I say that theater’s distinctly analog qualities are precisely what can make theater vital in the digital age, and make theater criticism just as vital. Theater is defined by performers performing in front of a live audience, as in an audience who is actually in the same room. Live performance cannot be replicated by a computer. Both dance and music, other methods of live performance, can be translated to digital media (though they differ from their live counterparts, the core of the medium stays the same). Theater, however, is the part of live dance and music that doesn’t translate digitally. Theater is absolutely untouchable—have you ever tried watching a taped performance of a show? It’s almost unbearable, even though you’re still seeing all the actions that would take place in person.

What this means to me is that, rather than being outdated by technology, theater can regain its importance in society simply because it is the only medium where in-person human interaction is built into its DNA. If art exists as a means of pleasure to take us away from our daily lives, theaters artistic power is amplified in a culture where all other human interaction is digital. With other forms of digitalized art, the value of entertainment and diversion gets cheapened and makes the audience lazy. Why go to the movies when I can wait until its on-demand? Why go to the record store when there’s a record store on my computer? There’s no way to encounter theater without it essentially turning into a night out. The need to go out at night won’t diminish, which means theater could increasingly prove to be a sociological necessity.

That theater can’t exist in the digital realm also places an increased premium on theater criticism. With digital access to any other form of art, people can make judgments for themselves without putting on pants. You don’t need to go through the effort to deem whether a work of art is worthy of your time, and increasingly, you don’t need to decide whether to spend money on that art, legally or otherwise. But with theater, there’s no way of knowing what goes on without actually being there. If someone is looking for an assessment of a play, they cannot download the play and judge for themselves. The need for an independent party to relay their experience, whether on the blogosphere or in a major paper, is at a higher demand for theater than for any other form of art. That’s the closest link to the Algonquin era that we’re going to get.