Sunday, January 29, 2012

Critical Condition: Donna Seaman's Approach to Reviewing


Years ago, even the ability to publish a byline in some URL form was enough to constitute an author as credible. Now virtually anyone can create their own website and broadcast their written word across the planet—within seconds. This alone threatens the world of true criticism.

So, who can we trust? What defines a true critic? “One must have the urge to share one’s enthusiasms,” Donna Seaman, a renowned literary critic clarifies, “To advocate. To be clear about what is that matters in a work of art.” Seaman describes her approach to reviewing the arts and its challenges in a chatroom of top Chicagoan critics moderated by Kris Vire for “TimeOut Chicago.”

The most crucial quality to qualify someone as a good critic according to Seaman, however, is passion. “You must find consolation in the art you dedicate yourself to and devote your critical attention out of hunger for what books or music or, literally, food grants you.” There is no basis for critiquing any subject area without any personal fascination for it, as Seaman conveys. Subsequently, Seaman explains that with passion ensues absorption in that subject, which then leads to necessary knowledge and credibility. “…Passion must lead to discipline and immersion. Expertise is gained from sustained attention…ongoing self-education is essential.” In other words, in order to be a suitable critic in a certain field, one must be self-educated—something that should come hand-in-hand with the enthusiasm for that subject.

Seaman herself may have a unique approach to criticism, because contrasting to reviewing food or music, she essentially writes about writing. By reviewing for print, Web and live assessments on the radio, Seaman sees differences in her voice within her writings through each medium. She states that the biggest dissimilarity within print is the role of the editor, with constraints regarding length or form. “When I write strictly for the Web, I do write a bit more informally…[Writing for print is] like writing a sonnet instead of a stream-of-consciousness monologue.”

Though she may, on occasion, find herself somewhat unrestrained, Donna Seaman underlines clarity at all times. “I’m always hoping for clarity. The best criticism is rich in unexpected connections.” For example, when a critic such as Rob Harvilla from Spin.com uses random phrases such as “Valley-girl Desdemona” in attempt to capture Lana Del Rey’s inexplicable façade, the outcome is not short of a truly encapsulating and succinct two-word summarization of an entire persona. Seaman stresses that reviews, no matter good or bad, must still be as concise and clear as any other type of writing. “No, we won’t like everything. But when you slam something, you have to be sharp and precise.” This comes from constant revision of one’s own reviews: “There is no writing, only rewriting.” Simply, the more we hack away at our own ramblings, the more to-the-point they become.

Everyone who is subjected to an art form, such as literature, music, or theatre, experiences something completely different from the next. Seaman explains that a critic must keep enough distance away to be able to visualize the work in its own context: amongst other paintings, plays, albums etc. Raising hairs among the other critics in the chatroom discussion, Seaman also argues that one must review the work similarly in a greater context of multiple opinions—not just their own. “Writing is always about exposing the workings of a mind, even a tween with bad taste.”





Friday, January 20, 2012

Good & Bad Reviews



I found this review of  “Exit Through the Gift Shop” by Libby Rosof particularly poor for multiple reasons.

First of all, Rosof’s intro makes little sense, especially to an unfamiliar reader. This is because it jumps too far into the subject without clearly introducing the subject to the audience. (“In the midst of Picassos selling for $106.5 million and $100 art works becoming, alas, part of their makers’ own collections, the film Exit Through the Gift Shop serves as a clarifying–and confusing–film, especially for any sincere artist trying to navigate the commercial realities of selling art.”)

Secondly, the review, at times, seems much too conversational because of its lack of professional prose and overall strange sentence structure. (“The film will make you realize that the difference between great and not great, genuine and not genuine, while it’s there, is often difficult to discern, so difficult as to make this difference often irrelevant in the marketplace. This is not news. But here it is too convincing to pretend otherwise, and like it or not, we all pretend otherwise most of the time.”) (“To pay for the venue, the assistants and the materials, he risks every nickel he has–hocking even his house (he has a family including children who live there”).

Lastly, since the review was basically a poorly written synopsis of the film, Rosof irrationally concludes the review by demanding us as the readers to go see the film without ever explaining why. (“The movie, which starts out as a portrait of a man with a camera, turns out to be a portrait of a crazy world where good is bad, bad is good, and everyone is thrown off balance, including you, the viewer. Phil had some good advice. Go see it.”)

                                                                                                                                                       




Brandon Soderberg does an exceptional job at reviewing The Weeknd’s "Echoes of Silence" on Spin.com.

Soderberg’s way of explaining the album on multiple levels is the main reason this review is successful. He explains exactly what the band’s genre is, what their album sounds like sonically (song by song and in detail) and how the lyrics affect the album’s outcome (and possibly the band’s rep).

Perfectly combining lively descriptive words with easy-to-relate-to statements (such as “Echoes of Silence" begins with a goofy, gutsy remake of Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana," mysteriously titled "D.D" so as to not spoil that first-listen, "Oh-no-he-didn't-just-cover-MJ" moment”), Soderberg makes this article both interesting and relatable. This alone makes it easy to trust his opinion and acknowledge him as a credible author.

Mentionable quotes:
·      Replacing the original's heavy-metal signifying with mournful Requiem for a Dream strings is both inspired and predictable. And by singing the song straight, Tesfaye doesn't hedge his bets. Instead, he and producer Illangelo boldly stick themselves into a tradition of icky, cruel R&B, taking on Michael Jackson's most misogynistic song -- underlying message: I hate the sort of woman who'd want to sleep with me -- and, in the process, basically summing up the entire Weeknd project. 

·      Indeed, this final installment in the Weeknd's 2011 trilogy makes it seem as though Tesfaye is rushing through an entire arty R&B career in less than a year's time, outrunning the indomitable, unforgiving hype machine. Part of that fast-moving, yet thoughtful approach seems to be testing what he can get away with while still keeping us talking. "Dirty Diana" frames the album with knowing meta-commentary; teaming up with Clams is just good synergy. (Meanwhile, Three 6 Mafia's Juicy J inexplicably shows up toward the end of "Same Old Song" to simply ramble -- but not rap -- about weed and Christmas.)

·      As for "Echoes of Silence", the pain behind a seemingly numb-to-it-all player is finally unveiled, reaching Douglas Sirk-ian heights of pathos on the album-ending title track.