To the readers who e-mailed congratulations at the notion that I had “graduated” to the theater beat: Thanks, but no thanks. To the wiseguy who wrote that it makes as much sense to give a fish a bicycle as to give a television critic the theater beat: Fear not.
Theater critic John Moore is back, and I’m happy to resume my watch as TV critic following a month-long experiment at The Denver Post.
The beat-swapping adventure taught us a few things. Editors required to fill in as writers are reminded of the chronic terror of a blank screen on deadline; writers better appreciate the challenges of their colleagues’ work, and, while we had our doubts, we can agree that sometimes being shaken out of our comfort zones isn’t a bad thing.
The crucial differences between theater and TV are obvious, but from a critical perspective, the two narrative, storytelling mediums have more in common than not. Theater is three-dimensional and alive in real time. When it’s good, it thrills in a way television cannot. For the same reasons, when it’s bad, it’s worse than lousy TV. It requires you to be dressed and won’t let you fast-forward.
There’s something about the sheer theatricality of theater, the declamatory style, the microphones and curtain calls, that never let us forget these are actors at work – sometimes too hard at work. The naturalness of TV, despite being an impersonal technology, lets us get lost in the story. It has a potential for hushed intimacy, through whispered lines and camera close-ups, generally unavailable in theater.
Theater is interactive. The director must work around the audience’s sustained laughter or a scene that’s not working. For all the blogging and fan-clubbing, TV is more one-sided. Once it’s taped, there’s no changing for the matinee.
By demanding that we venture out to a darkened space for a few hours’ shared experience, theater is actively communal, while TV is solitary and passive. Yet theater remains a relatively tiny community; television is the great virtual community of the age.
TV benefits from, but too often coasts on, star power. Local theater can offer terrific acting, but sometimes it’s your next-door neighbor in costume.
Television, known for its noisy crassness, can be oddly subtle. In the theater, a waving scarf or lighting effect creating an ocean can elicit a gasp or applause, while on the tube we watch “Lost” and scarcely notice how gorgeous it is. Successful storytelling, acting and direction in TV are taken for granted in ways they are not in theater. TV also has an urgency, including stories ripped from headlines, that is hard for theater to match.
Television, more blatantly preoccupied with commerce than art, must prolong stories, usually by running series into the ground. Stage work is contained and has the luxury of appearing to serve art over commerce. Yet television is under pressure to be compelling, to connect, to avoid self-indulgence. Sometimes the requirement of popularity helps.
The job of a local theater critic is delicate and political in a way the television critic’s is not. Not only do the personalities know each other, but a review by a theater critic has the power to help or hurt a career, push or close a show.
A lone TV critic can write anything about faraway celebrities or expensive network productions, and the ratings aren’t affected. While theater critics are swamped with angry e-mails and phone calls, television critics rarely hear from TV producers, networks or studios about a negative review – unless they get the broadcast time wrong.
Theater critics often wind up as advocates for the local arts scene, handing out awards, affecting grant applications. TV critics can stir interest in underappreciated shows but can’t really save a dying one.
Reviewing theater, there’s always the notion that earnest starving artists have staked their livelihoods on a project they consider noble. If you hate it, it’s tougher to say so. Reviewing TV, there’s always the suspicion that a committee of calculating marketers patched together a project they know is crass and craven. It’s easy to slam. Luckily, with 800 channels, TV critics have more choice in what to ignore and what to review each month.
The “I get paid to do this” effect is a factor on both beats. Watching either medium with notebook and pen in hand is grounding in a way that art isn’t meant to be grounded.
Theater audiences arrive for a special night out, eager to be entertained, rooting to get their money’s worth. They want a good review for their expensive investment. On the couch, millions barely pay attention, letting the mediocrity wash over them as they fold laundry and pass the chips and dip. They’re just as happy to read a pan.
In both jobs, it’s a treat to hail the rare creative victories and minor miracles.
Finally, about the star system: Thank goodness there’s no such thing on the TV beat. Subjective, uneven, unfair and intended only as a vague consumer guide, the four-star rating system in theater reviewing was among the most disturbing aspects of our month-long job exchange. It has always been a source of angst for critics, so much so that The Post’s theater, movie and food critics wrote about their own interpretation of the grading levels last fall.
For my month, I was seeing stars. How to compare “Mamma Mia!” to “The War Anthology” – a familiar pop-rock ABBA musical versus an original, mostly serious drama and multimedia discussion of war – using stars and half-stars? How do you assign “The War Anthology” – a collection of diverse works by numerous playwrights, some that worked and some that didn’t – a single grade? The answer: Don’t take the stars too seriously.
In the end, I’m glad to go to the theater as a paying customer and to return to television with a critical eye, finding on the small screen the reflection of cultural trends and hints at our national psyche.
There are series to be screened, trends to be spotted, industry angles to be reported, irredeemably bad time-wasters to bash, pretentious “event” telecasts to make fun of and, occasionally, gems to treasure.
Staff writer Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-820-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
