"
Never read the reviews!" was a frequent warning around my old theater company.
Whether an ego-boost or sucker-punch, a review can severely distort an artist's perception of both self and work.
If, however, a critique is honest, perceptive and thoughtful, even the most damning review can provide useful feedback.
How, then, does the tender artist separate the wise (if unpleasant) expert opinion from the clueless praise or petty ravings of the unqualified opinionista? (Note, incidentally, that indiscriminate praise can be just as damaging as criticism.)
While it goes without saying that a reviewer should be a decent writer and have some knowledge of the art form being reviewed, a good critic must have enough self-awareness to discern and account for his/her own prejudices and expectations of an art form, and the influence those factors may have on his/her subjective experience of a work.
For example, a good critic might say, "This wasn't my cup of tea, but it was very well done," or could admit, "I enjoyed this, although it was artistically mediocre", and then be able to offer objective, specific, informed explanations both for his/her reaction and artistic appraisal.
But too often even the most experienced reviewers are so consumed with an idea of what they think a work should be, or with their own unconscious predilections, that they cannot accurately perceive it in the first place.
Scottish author
A.L. Kennedy observes of
book reviews that they "... end up being about the reviewer's idea of the author ... or even some kind of personal issue the reviewer is working through."
Such was the case with the
Columbia Spectator's recent
review of
PURE Reflections: Beauty Reimagined.
Although our program and promotional literature clearly describe the show as a "theatrical dance drama" this misbegotten scribbling was titled: "Show Promises Bellydance but Focuses More on Story than Movement".
Worse, its subtitle read, "Although 'PURE Reflections: Beauty Reimagined' passed itself off as a belly dance show, it was not much of a dance performance at all."
As if this weren't enough, the writer, Columbia undergraduate Diane Wang, digs the hoe of her disappointed expectations deeper in the opening line, "Students who attended last night's 'PURE Reflections: Beauty Reimagined' solely to experience the art of belly dancing may have been sorely disappointed."
After this initial sucker-punch, the article proceeds with an indifferent account of the show's action.
Her one debatably positive statement describes "a moving progression of women's birth to maturity...." yet it is not clear whether "moving" applies to the show's progression or its emotional effect on her.
Indeed her opinion dully returns again and again to her singular disappointment at not seeing enough dance, even though she acknowledges that when the climactic drama is resolved we celebrate by "dancing through the end of the performance" (which was about one-third of the show).
She criticizes our use of props -- claiming that their use, as well as "pantomime, music, and the background montage ... distracted the audience." Yet music is integral to any dance show, and pantomime is integral to non-verbal theater.
And while the background montage was admittedly intense, we only used one prop -- a mirror for each of the four "Self" characters depicted.
Indeed, in one scene we did not use the mirror at all, employing dance entirely to suggest its presence. Of course her review did not mention this scene at all, concluding merely that, "The show overall lacked an emphasis on dance."
Now, while we would love to express the story's complex psychological narrative entirely in dance, the fact is that the kind of bodily expression such a performance would entail eludes even highly skilled professional companies.
And PURE is not that.
As is stated in all or our literature, and reiterated at the beginning of the show by our director, Dixie Fernandez, and even acknowledged by Ms. Wang immediately
after her initial criticism: "PURE is not a conventional belly dance troupe. It is a troupe made up of real women—attorneys, professionals, interpreters, and even school vice principals—who care about and support each other and express themselves through belly dancing."
And while of course we continually develop our dance skill, our chief offering is not deftly dazzling dance, but rather real-life, raw, emotional honesty expressed through dance.
The message of "PURE Reflections: Beauty Reimagined" -- and indeed the message of PURE itself -- is that dance is a transformative, beautiful art. And it is for
everyone.
This must be the starting point for any useful critique of our work, from which its execution and effectiveness can then be judged.
But to simply say that there should have been better or more "expressive" bellydance is useless, irresponsible and ultimately hurtful -- both to the members of PURE as well as potential audience members who may now be negatively influenced by her words.
And it makes me wonder if Ms. Wang would have simply preferred to see a different show altogether.
Or, rather, it makes me wonder if her own prejudices caused her to perceive a different show from the one we presented that night.
