Can’t let the subject die. Hell, I’m a critic. It would be unfair of me to let the subject die.
When someone critics something, they place themselves in an interesting position. Simply by offering up their opinion they enter a new state of being: one who has voiced themselves and has therefore categorised themself. Their thoughts on the subject at hand have now been cemented in the minds of those around them. One could bring up the inherently true old phrase ‘Actions speak louder than words’ and shout it at me whilst I continue on my line of reasoning regarding the sheer weight someone’s words carry, except it can’t be applied in this situation. Short of blowing up a film studio or marching into Parliament to shout down a bill ready in the wings to be passed, critics in whatever station must limit themselves to their eloquence. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong with that, we understand. As is my opinion on most walks of life: it is better to be limited, because then you learn to explore all possible possibilities with what you have in front of you. And for one to be a critic worthy of the attention of the audience, one must certainly learn to do their best with the tools at their disposal. Therefore, a separation must be made: how does one distinguish between a critic and a Critic?
As has been said, both earlier on here and in the previous post on the subject, it stems from the ability to look deeper into a piece of art and unearth something notable. All a critic has to do is plonk down an opinion on a given matter, and this becomes a criticism by definition. But then, hundreds of things are things by definition that I would accept only with a sense of satire surrounding proceedings, like accepting a plateful of mashed raw carrots and broccoli as food. Technically, it’s food – and it might even be good for you (which it is), but you’re never going to eat it because, frankly, you’ve got better things to do, better things to sample. A review which doesn’t bother to explore is like this: it’s still edible, and some people might like it, but it’s never going to be noteworthy, and, from as possible an objective stand point as one can reach on this subject, there will always be better. In the grand scheme of things it can be ignored. One could argue that at a push someone would happy consume a plate of mashed-up raw carrots and broccoli but that stems from biological necessity rather than any particular desire to do so. Reviewers don’t even have that. No-one needs to read what they write. If someone doesn’t like a particular article, it matters not how much blood has been wept in the creation of it, because they will put it aside and it will be erased from their minds.
So, while a critic is consigned to a shrunken audience, a Critic must dress up his work. At must be both eloquent yet engaging, able to capture the imagination and remain lodged in there like the smell of a class-borne banquet. Except, of course, this is not all dressing. It must combine the best of nouvelle cuisine and hearty, home-made fare (or whatever the polarities are today). There must be something indelible about them, because otherwise one might as well stop any person in the street and ask them for an unnecessary, most-likely-uninformed declaration. So it needs to be stylish and gripping, yet contain some sort of content which made it worth reading. Which is, well, which is where one can narrow down the Critics.
It’s almost unfair, when one takes a step back. The simple requirement that, in order to be a Critic, one must be a good writer. Take (once again) Anthony Lane. He may be the best film critic working at the moment – albeit he does sometimes embody the archetypal ‘film snob’, brushing off anything irreverent and giving undue heed to anything worthy – but he would be brilliant in any fundamentally subjective field because he’s such a good writer. A political commentary, a short story, an advertisement for ladies’ deodorant: the man could make anything interesting. And that’s shared with many other Critics – the guiding, smirking prose washing over the subject matter and laying it bare, grafting it down to the bones, and letting the audience see all there is to be seen. Writing is, after all, an art form. So one might ask: “What Darwinian system are you forming wherein only those with a talent for prose can Critique and expect to have notice taken of them?” To which I would reply: good writing is not so elusive as it is easy to make out. In the same way that if one loves a subject at school they almost instantly improve in it, if one loves a topic for analysis their musings on the subject would automatically make worthy reading material. Because that’s the other thing that defines a Critic: the genuine feeling behind every paragraph. The head and the heart have been combined; not in a sentimental, sappy way, but showing that what the writer is writing he has though about deeply, mused upon, and is now ready to have it cemented in type. If anything, this should actually take priority over any verbal dexterity – you can be a good writer whilst still being a hopeless Critic. Writing from something thought over and enjoyed, however, is open and all-encompassing, especially if measured. A calm, thoughtful, logical, genuine dissection of something the writer clearly cares about: tell me a time when one of these has been less than worth your time.
If one writes, they have an automatic duty to their readers – otherwise, they degenerate into auteurs, writing for themselves and beneath the contempt of everyone else the moment they try to advertise. That duty is fluid, depending on the subject and the context. Voicing your opinion brings its own set: whether it is your intention or not, you’ll be judged as a Critic, and you’ll be expected to show you are worth noticing. People enjoy criticising critics, after all; it makes them feel more assured of themselves, the smug knowledge that the person declaring them to be in the wrong might actually be themself in the wrong.
I’ve enjoyed this, so far. There’s still plenty to be mulled over, so I believe a third post on the subject to round it off is in order. Possibly one the big question: why should one listen to Critics anyway. Let’s see if I can make sense of a thoroughly unanswerable question.
