All Good Critics are Artists (and vice versa)
Criticism and creativity are complementary, wrote T. S. Eliot, echoing Oscar Wilde, so ‘it is to be expected that the critic and the creative artist should frequently be the same person.’ (1)
In my previous article, Why Fanfiction is Valuable to All Writers, I examined the ways that fanfiction can help writers develop their craft. Using a reference material as a starting point, writing fanfiction challenges us to be creative and original, as thoughtful fandom writers expect more than just a re-telling of a story they already know…
Writing fanfiction is more critical than film reviewing. It is a higher form of criticism than an essay review because it does not need to reference the original material as directly. It allows the writer more freedom of technique, so it adds depth to the work more than a dry explanation is able to.
But the same points can be made about the value of fiction in general. And there are further points to be made for the importance of creativity to critics, and by the same token, the importance of criticism to creatives.
I say ‘creativity’ because the ideas expressed in this article do not just apply to film critics writing reviews or fiction about films. They apply to film critics who may paint a picture inspired by a film. Or to literary critics….
Criticism works in many directions. For example, I was so impressed by Gone with the Wind, my favourite film, that my initial response was in music. Criticism is certainly not restricted to writing, because (as we shall see) good criticism is creative. However, for this article I will focus on the writings of film critics.
I don’t hear critics discussing their approach to criticism. Yet whenever I write a review, I have the principles expressed by Wilde and Eliot in the back of my mind. Reading The Critic as Artist changed my way of thinking about the arts, and without reading it I probably wouldn’t have become seriously interested in film criticism or be writing this blog.
So I recommend you read The Critic as Artist (parts 1 and 2) and The Perfect Critic by T. S. Eliot, although The Critic as Artist is quite long and wordy (Wilde got a bit carried away at times!) and to be honest I’m still trying to make sense of some of Eliot’s essays, but I hope this article provides at least a decent introduction to them.
I suppose I should state the obvious first — the main reason why all critics should be artists is because the great artists of past and present are critics. (Is any of this making sense?) Millais’ painting of Ophelia was of course based on the Ophelia of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Rachmaninoff’s tone poem The Isle of the Dead was his musical interpretation of a painting (pictured below). Coppola's adaptation of The Godfather is a “criticism” of the book. These artists could have just written an insignificant review in a newspaper (see below). But instead they responded by making another great work of art.
As Oscar said…
‘Criticism is itself an art. And just as artistic creation implies the working of the critical faculty, and indeed, without it cannot be said to exist at all, so Criticism is really creative in the highest sense of the word. Criticism is, in fact, both creative and independent.’
And there are two types of criticism…
The Critic as Interpreter
‘The critic will be an interpreter, if he chooses. He can pass from his synthetic impression of the work of art as a whole, to an analysis or exposition of the work itself, and in this lower sphere, as I hold it to be, there are many delightful things to be said and done.’
There are many thoughtful writers like this on Medium, but to choose a recent example, see Mark Schoeberg’s interpretation of ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ —
‘Even though the both of them [Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke] were absolute atheists, in “2001” the idea of God is so relevant that one can actually think that it’s the concept behind the whole picture. In that sense, what the movie shows us is not the idea of God meant as a superior being who controls the whole universe, it completely ignores the Christian conception of God. In “2001” we can feel a presence through the whole film but we can’t really tell what it is.’
I haven’t seen the film, but whether or not I agree with this interpretation is irrelevant. It is an interpretation, not a fact. While it may reveal something about the film (I certainly learnt something about it) it reveals more about the author. Criticism is a type of autobiography. It is…
‘A record of one’s own soul. It is more fascinating than history as it is concerned simply with oneself. It is more delightful than philosophy, as its subject is concrete and not abstract […] It is the only civilized form of autobiography as it deals not with the events, but with the thoughts of one’s life.’
Interpretive criticism may — and should — involve examining the writer’s intentions (e.g. how Kubrick’s atheism influenced the film) but it is primarily about the critic’s own interpretation. ‘It is the beholder who lends to the beautiful thing its myriad meanings,’ as Wilde said. That is what makes criticism fascinating.
Think how many times a seemingly boring conversation was brightened by the reference to a film or a book, sparking a more meaningful discussion. In my experience, long road journeys can be made far shorter when in conversation with a critic.
Further to Wilde’s views on the matter, I would add that there are two ‘styles’ of interpretative criticism. T. S. Eliot wrote that critics either analyse (such as Mark) or create something new, such as audrey. See below her response to ‘Hiroshima, Mon Amour’…
More often than not, words are far too structured, too restrictive of the languid nature of longing. The human capacity to hold memories can sometimes be our own wickedest enemy. We do not choose the tragedies that come upon us. We only do what we can with the violence we all carry, all throughout our lives.
This is pure interpretation with no details or explanation of plot. It is poetic, or as T. S. Eliot would say, ‘impressionistic’ or ‘aesthetic criticism.’ It is the essence of the film, condensed, through the lens of one viewer. It is subjective. This type of criticism is higher than the analytical form because it is more creative. It also tells you what the film is about without telling you what happens — quite a difficult thing to achieve. This type of criticism comes from minds cultivated by the varied impressions of different arts and languages. (And Oscar agrees that criticism ‘demands infinitely more cultivation than creation does.’)
My (rather less poetic!) interpretation, stands in complete contrast, as I found the film very boring. This demonstrates how ‘purely subjective’ criticism is. audrey and I have completely, wonderfully different opinions of the same film. Both leading to two very different written outcomes. Neither one is ‘true or false’. As Oscar said…
[…The] proper aim of Criticism is not to see the object as in itself it really is [… It is] in its essence purely subjective, and seeks to reveal its own secret and not the secret of another. For the highest Criticism deals with art not as expressive but as impressive.’
Similarly, artists do not see things as they really are. If they did they ‘would cease to be an artist.’
T. S. Eliot agrees:
‘A poem may appear to mean very different things to different readers, and all of these things may be different from what the author thought he meant […] The reader’s interpretation may differ from the author’s and be equally valid — it may even be better. There may be much more in a poem than the author was aware of.’ (2)
From my experience of writing poetry I can say that this is very true.
(Having said all that, drawing a line between poetic and analytical interpretation may be misleading. Perhaps poetry is analysis but with beautiful style? And perhaps analysis, like mathematical formulae, is more poetic than it seems… Well, either way, they’re both interpretive and impressive.)
From Interpretation to Art
It’s Only a Movie’s blog demonstrates the link between interpretative criticism and artistic criticism, and why both are necessary.
His recent trial (i.e. watching all the horror films of the sixties and seventies) shows how interpretation can only go so far. His more recent fiction writing shows the next critical step.
Of course, criticism begins with interpretation. Millais read Hamlet, Rachmaninoff examined The Isle of the Dead.
While it is unnecessary (and I would say, unhealthy!*) to take on any kind of project such as watching all the horror films of the sixties and seventies, the trial has some value because all critics must understand how one artist (director/actor/style) stood in relation to the previous schools/decades/styles. The critic studies the development of forms and techniques before then using those techniques.
(Although it is really not necessary to watch bad films to the end, as Oscar said, ‘to know the vintage and quality of a wine, one need not drink the whole cask[!]’)
But, how do you make the written interpretation of such rubbish films as these at all interesting? It is a question of treatment (technique) and personality.
‘The more strongly the critic’s personality enters into the interpretation, the more real the interpretation becomes, the more convincing […] as art springs from personality, so it is only to personality that it can be revealed, and from the meeting of the two comes right interpretative criticism.’
At some point the critic will feel the restrictions of style in the essay form and want to express his impressions more creatively.
But surely if your interpretation is based so much in personality, it can’t be a fair interpretation, so doesn’t have much value?
Well, no. Good critics are never fair.
Most critics, while trying to be fair, are actually unfair. Take newspaper critics for example. They’re supposed to be fair. But newspaper critics don’t understand what criticism is…
An example — I read a brief article in The Times by someone saying that a George Ezra concert was middling. No convincing explanation for this was given. But he did bother to say that the audience were nice i.e. ‘would prefer coca cola to a beer,’ as though that were relevant?? This suggests that the pleasant tone of the concert, the lack of (obviously) challenging subject matter etc. was the reason for his three star review. In other words, the writer was trying to be nice about disliking a concert because it was ‘nice’. (3)
Those who criticise a piece while trying to be fair usually miss the point entirely, as above. Those who praise a work don’t praise it well enough; they merely chatter about what’s good, without any analytical depth and without showing why it’s so good.
To return to my original point, it is far more engaging to read articles such as those by It’s Only a Movie. I’m not particularly interested in horror films, yet I enjoy reading his opinions of them more than newspaper reviews, because criticism is an expression of personality.
The Times (the only paper which has bearable arts columns) actually calls its reviews section ‘The Critics.’ But with all due respect, I don’t care what a bunch of random middle-class people think about what mediocre film came out this week. The kinds of personalities you get depends on the paper and the editor. Sometimes they try to be engaging, the poor dears, but it usually falls flat. They are boring and deserve only to be skim-read. They are restricted by word-counts and style conventions. They can’t even use the first person, even though ‘I’ — the ‘I’ of personality — is a vital part of criticism. As Wilde said, they are ‘mediocrity weighing mediocrity in the balance.’
Good critics are concerned about themselves, not the reader. That is why they are more readable.
The good critic is content when he has discovered his own opinion. I say ‘discovered’ because often one’s impressions only become clear after a while. Sometimes I write a short review and in the process of writing, I notice something new and my view has changed.
But the newspaper critic can’t put too much of his personality into a review. In contrast, those of us writing on Medium for example, have more freedom to express our opinions and personalities because we also have the freedom to write in whatever style we wish.
There are two ways to be a good critic. One is to be a good critic, the other is to be Mark Kermode of the BBC.
To slightly contradict my point that ‘good critics are never fair’, I isolate Mark Kermode because he is a good critic who is always fair. He doesn’t fit the above personality rule. Because of the BBC’s commitment to impartiality (a principle which is very valuable — I dare you to contradict me in the comments) Kermode has to be more reserved in his reviews. So Kermode’s criticism is about as unbiased as you can get — genuinely fair.
But really it’s silly to even talk about bias because, as historians tell us, everything that was ever written from the beginning of time is biased!!
But what is bias?
Bias is personal preference (my dictionary calls it a “mental tendency”!) Personal preference depends on your personality and experiences. (There is no rational explanation as to why, for example, I don’t like Hiroshima, mon Amour, but audrey does.)
So this again proves that true criticism is an expression of personality. And as personality is expressed through style, it is best expressed in fiction rather than non-fiction, because fiction is more stylised. There is more freedom of technique in fiction. Therefore…
The Critic as Artist
…as mentioned before, the interpretive critic may eventually feel the restrictions of style in the essay form and want to express his personality and impressions creatively.
It is not a coincidence that those who write a lot of film reviews, those who are very critical, are also good fiction writers. It is only by reading and watching widely, by studying form and language, by developing your own opinions, that you can write anything imaginative. Whether it be horrible horror films or a great novel, the good, the bad and the ugly/arty! — all have something to teach the good critic.
For example, It’s Only a Movie’s cinematic story ‘The Scarecrow’…
I sat in the simmering mid-day heat, on the side of the road, in front of a cornfield, my back resting against a column supporting a small billboard that read, “Jesus Saves”. All I held was an ID, $30 in cash, and a shortwave radio, on which I passively listened to the latest bulletin while staring down the road, hoping for a ride to hitch. The news of the day was blaring in my left ear…
“In part because the government is spending so heavily on Mr. Nixon’s behalf, the House was in an angry mood when it came to voting for the money sought to pay for Mr. Nixon’s transition to private life…”
A very good introduction: immediately raising the question why is the protagonist there? The historical detail adds to the realistic tone (which makes the later events more shocking). Some more cars pass. Then a ‘crazed’ woman stops and shouts “You! You! It was you, you piece of shit!”
…the woman quickly backed up and turned her car in order to block the shoulder in front of me. She then reached over to the passenger seat and brandished a pistol. I sprinted into the cornfield, busting through the wall of maize as I heard the first shot ring out.
I raced my way through the stalks, as I heard the voice of the mad woman on my trail joined by at least two more male voices, all of them yelling taunts such as, “We’re coming for ya!”, and “Nothing’ll save ya now, you bastard!”
He runs and is relieved to come across a farmhouse. Only to then find a mutilated corpse, with a straw hat on his head…
This short horror story is an example of an interpretive critic who has studied a genre enough to be able to convincingly put that knowledge into practice. The setting, tone and mystery calls to mind the plane scene from North by Northwest.
But the ending of ‘The Scarecrow’ is not as strong as the beginning, it seems incomplete (either that or it requires a sequel). This is possibly evidence that ‘over-consumption’ of one genre, or one author, and watching bad films to the end, is harmful to the critic’s ‘sensibility’.* The critic’s mind must be cultivated by the varied impressions of different arts, genres, authors…
‘One author takes possession of us for a time; then another; and finally they being to affect each other in our mind. We weigh one against another […] we begin to be, in fact, critical; and it is our growing critical power which protects us from excessive possession by any one literary personality. The good critic — and we should all try to be critics, and not leave criticism to the fellows who write reviews in the papers — is the man who, to a keen and abiding sensibility, joins wide and increasingly discriminating reading.’ (4)
In conclusion, I agree with Sibelius…
joking lol
Good critics, whether analytical or impressionistic, should be listened to! But I think what Sibelius meant was that although writing about art is good, it is better to write your own. Writers who take that ‘step beyond’ deserve to be more respected, to have ‘statues’ as it were, because they have the originality and the independence, whereas critics who are only critics without being artists, without putting their personality into their work (i.e. in the newspapers) do not. It is better to demonstrate your understanding of an art, and express your opinions by creating something ‘new and delightful’, rather than wittering on about someone else’s work… And that is why all good critics are actually artists; and all good artists are cultivated critics.
No idea why it took so long to get to this conclusion…
My thanks and regards to the fellow Medium writers quoted above, whose combination of interpretation, analysis, poetry and fiction would make a fine Arts column in a publication of their own.
Thank you for reading this far! (I wouldn’t have bothered) Let me know what you think in the comments :)
Frou-Frou
Notes:
(1) T. S. Eliot — ‘The Perfect Critic’
(2) T. S. Eliot — ‘The Music of Poetry’
(3) This was based on memory as I have since recycled the newspaper (as it deserves to be). Perhaps the writer’s tone was not too bad and I was simply ‘offended’ by someone overlooking George Ezra who is one of the handful of distinctive male singers of our time… Either way the point remains that ‘professional’ critics often come to unprofessional conclusions.
(4) T. S. Eliot — ‘Religion and Literature’
THE END
