When They Can’t Take A Joke
Kevin Delin | Sep 25, 2012 | Comments 11 |
There’s an old techie joke — did I just lose half of you? — about a pair of balloonists who are caught in some bad weather and have to make an emergency landing somewhere in Washington state. Fortunately, they are able to touch down safely in a wide field. Completely disoriented and not knowing their precise location, the pair spot an engineer and call out to him: “Hey, where are we?” to which the engineer replies: “You are in a large field.” From this, the balloonists immediately know they are in Redmond, WA, where Microsoft is headquartered because, just like all Microsoft online support, the engineer’s response was 100% accurate and yet totally useless.
This past weekend I attended the opening of Under My Skin. I’m not a critic by any stretch of the imagination, but here is my one line review:
You wanna laugh? You like old-school sitcoms? Then go see Under My Skin.
Short, sweet, twitterable. A bit lacking in the details department, however.
That’s why, despite this era of 140-character messages that make even sound-bites seem long, there is room for the venerable old-school play reviews. There were many reviews that came out on this show’s opening night. Several of them, in fact, savaged Under My Skin something fierce. I won’t name any names — okay, I’ll name one: Charles McNulty of the LA Times — but trust me when I say that these critics who didn’t like this show really, really, really didn’t like it. Really. As in sticking-needles-in-your-eyes-while-having-an-advanced-case-of-gonorrhea-during-a-bout-of-bowel-rumbling-food-poisoning-and-losing-your-hemorrhoid-donut didn’t like it.
Oh, these bad notices are ferocious, the type that give some a sense of schadenfreude (which loosely translates from the German: what Apple fans feel when seeing Microsoft online support). Collectively there were 2353 words spilled in this action, some 14550 characters — including spaces — which is about the equivalent of 100x the length of my poor man’s one-tweet-long review.
However, not one of these bad reviews — not one — mentioned this simple, verifiable (I was there!) fact:
The audience laughed. Loud. In unison. Often.
When I go to experience a comedy that’s supposed to be a comedy (we aren’t talking an Ed Wood production here), I expect to laugh. Not titter. Not hiss. Not squeak. But laugh – loud and long and clear. If I do, end of the story. Everything else is gravy.
You see, truth be told, comedy is tougher than it looks. You want to move people emotionally? It’s pretty easy. Kick a small puppy. Tell them a story about a 5-year-old with cancer. Remind them that Donald Trump is still on television weekly.
But make’em laugh?
Who knows why something is funny? My Uncle claims to love old British comedy. I thought he meant Monty Python. He was talking about Benny Hill.
In comedy some jokes die and others kill — comedy really is a life-and-death business! — so it’s impressive when you can get a 522-seat theater audience to laugh. And why did the majority of the audience laugh throughout the evening? I dunno. Yes, it’s true: the comedic timing of Under My Skin‘s script is much like an old-school sitcom. Why would that surprise anyone? Writers Robert Sternin & Prudence Fraser have helmed Who’s the Boss? and The Nanny (among other things). They know sitcom schtick (he says nervously worrying that some critic will object to a standard Borscht Belt Yiddish word being used for possible comic effect). The press releases surrounding Under My Skin emphasize this sitcom background — it’s a selling point. Walking into this production and being shocked — shocked! — by this style of humor is like going to a George Lucas film and being surprised when a character says “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Personally, I think the exquisite acting had a lot to do with selling the comedy — the ensemble cast was stellar. And, funnily enough, even the critics who brutalized this production pretty much agreed on that point.
In the end, everyone is entitled to their opinion — how do you think economists keep their jobs? — and it’s certainly valuable to have seasoned theater-goers espouse theirs. Nevertheless, if a critic is surrounded by a bunch of laughter, he might think about letting his readers know this important fact, especially if he isn’t finding anything funny himself. He might well heed the advice of an American humorist, Mark Twain:
The public is the only critic whose opinion is worth anything at all.
(I’m not sure why they call Mark Twain a humorist, I see nothing funny in that quote. The quote is 100% accurate but, maybe, useless in this context. Does this qualify me to develop Microsoft online support? Talk to balloonists? Or, perhaps, write theater reviews?)
If you didn’t like this column, you most certainly won’t enjoy my previous one: Don’t Need A Santa Claus To Know Which Way The Nose Glows
Filed Under: Featured • kevin delin • Ponderings
About the Author: Kevin Delin took a few writing courses (among other things) at MIT from playwright A.R. Gurney and author Frank Conroy. Unable to convince backers to turn his textbook, Foundations of Applied Superconductivity, into the Broadway spectacular it deserved to be, he let his id run amuck and wrote Heat & Hostility instead. With an immodest plot about immodest gender relations, the play was an immodest success: the police never raided the theater. The last mentionable thing he did in a theater (besides seeing a play) was participate in Hollywood Fringe 2012 as both a writer and director in Theatre Unleashed’s 24-Hour production. You can follow him on Twitter @KDelin.
While I haven’t seen this production and therefore can’t offer my own informed opinion on its merits, Kevin makes a salient point here (God forbid) and it’s one that many of LA’s critics either disregard or simply don’t understand.
While context and opinion are essential to a good review, they don’t meet all of the requirements of an outstanding review, the final element is “perspective”.
It seems many critics often get so caught up in the heat of their own opinions that they sometimes don’t allow for the fact that, one, they might just be “off” in their opinion, and two, that even if they are “on” in their assessment of the quality of a piece, they are part of an audience, and the reaction and opinion of that audience is just as essential as theirs and therefore should be included in their critique. This is the heart of perspective.
Context, opinion, perspective. Leaving one of these out says as much about the critic as it does the critique.
Well, Kevin, I too was there, and here’s another interpretation of why the serious criticism didn’t reflect your experience: it’s that the audience did not in fact laugh loud, in unison, often. Yes, segments of the audience – which like many a Hollywood premiere was packed to overflow with friends of the most famous production element, in this case the writers; and with longtime co-workers of the writers; and with longtime professional dependents of the writers – laughed at everything, often anticipating the joke they clearly already were in on. These people were going to laugh no matter what was put before them.
But large swaths of the audience – which as you have noted also was packed with critics – did not laugh at anything. A healthy percentage of the center section kept looking around at one another in dismay. I was surrounded by total strangers who repeatedly shook their heads and stared at the floor.
I don’t know which doubt to give you the benefit of: whether you are savvy enough to recognize industry-town premiere audience behavior, which has nothing to do with how a non-invited crowd might react, and so you are therefore being inexplicably naive; or that you simply can’t tell the difference. We probably will disagree about whether this show has the chops and legs to make a long run. In my experience, only a show with an irresistible middle-America hook (say, a Disney franchise, or a beloved 60s TV show) can sell tickets for a show this poorly written.
There’s some perspective for ya. Thanks, Jason.
Always available to curmudgeon. Except at parties.
Kevin, you make an excellent point about making audience reaction a part of any review, especially if one’s opinion seems to differ vastly from the audience. Even if a critic is “right” (as if there is such a thing), it’s still responsible to make note that one’s opinion was in the minority if it was. It just gives the readers of a review much-needed information before they decide to see something or not.
Jason also makes a good point about how industry friends and co-workers may respond with more enthusiasm than they normally would had this show not been written by someone they know. That’s common behavior and it’s definitely a factor in judging the honesty of a laugh. Obviously, non-industry crowds have less at stake in exposing their honest reaction during a performance. What surprises me, Jason, is your ability to know which part of the crowd was industry and which part of the crowd was not. Calling Kevin either naive or unable to tell the difference between crowds comes across as very condescending. Unless you knew everyone in the audience, knew their connection with the writers and knew the authenticity of their reactions, you might not want to be so quick to put someone else down. Making a valid point is good enough without resorting to name calling.
Mr Wheeler, it’s none of my business, but your new obsession with how I address other people strikes me as a waste of your time. The arrogance that moves you to tell me how to behave disinclines me to your advice. And in fact, on this page I haven’t name-called yet, but here’s one: you are a nosy parker.
But to answer your question, since it’s a good one, I knew that many of the people in the audience were friends of the writers because I know many of them myself, some personally and some by sight. I can identify a good number of who’s industry and who’s not, as I try to know who works with whom, because it is my business to know. I work in the same industry. Don’t you? Doesn’t Mr Delin?
Your assumption that since I’m not mealy-mouthed, I must be talking out of my ass, confirms what I’ve suspected since you publicly mistook Steven Stanley for a theater critic: your opinions are predicated not on reason or experience or taste, but on a desperate need for everybody to be nice. Given the choice between a culture of moral and intellectual vigor and one of empty platitude, I think you and I have made different decisions.
Jason, you have name-called. You told Kevin he was either naive or that he couldn’t tell the difference (between crowds). Sure, you didn’t say he was naive, you said was BEING naive. Potato, puhtato.
I never said you were talking out of your ass. I simply said you put others down which didn’t sit well with me. I’m not a fan of writers, even great writers, who feel they must put others down in order to be right instead of staying with the subject at hand. Obviously, I’m not going to be a fan or reader of yours since I have observed you doing this in two of the two posts I’ve read of yours. You may not care that I’m not a fan. Fine. I’m simply standing up for two people you unnecessarily insulted.
I never mistook Steven for a theater critic. Steven has always stated, at least to my knowledge, that he is a theater reviewer. He doesn’t criticize in his reviews because he doesn’t see a point in being mean when he can offer similar sentiments without killing someone’s ego in the process. He’s honest, but he’s going to be nice about it. Heaven forbid.
My opinions ARE predicated “on reason and experience and taste.” To think otherwise is absurd and shows you know very little about me. BUT I ALSO find value in kindheartedness. (Again, heaven forbid!) To think I have to choose between a “culture of moral and intellectual vigor” and one of “empty platitudes” is absurd. These are not opposites, Jason. Just because one is intellectual doesn’t mean they have to condescend with ill-informed jabs; and just because one is kind doesn’t mean they can’t call a spade a spade, offer suggestions for improvement or state when something simply isn’t working. Steven Stanley’s N/R reviews are a perfect example of this.
I’m sorry this “nosy parker” has wasted his time on you. This honestly was less about you and more about the people you insulted. I wanted them to know I have their back.
For the record, Mr Wheeler, by your own silly standard, in the past 24 hours you have called me condescending, ill-informed, absurd, and the one that really hurts my feelings: mean.
You have predicated the applicability of these labels upon the reading of a few of my comments. When I used a similar evidentiary basis for my analysis of your personality, you cried foul. You have thereby (and singlehandedly) established that you are a person who does not behave according to the dictates he places on others. There’s a name for that, too.
Given your fascination with, and the weight you attach to, other people’s honesty, I wonder why you haven’t applied the focus of your probity to yourself. Sorry; I’m not being honest there: I don’t wonder.
Jason, I stand by everything I have said. If you can’t handle the fact that when you are condescending towards someone that it’s called “condescending” than you have more problems than I care to deal with.
I’ve spent enough time with this conversation. Now that I know what kind of person I’m dealing with it’s completely clear to me it’s time to go.
Kevin, fantastic post. Keep up the good work. I look forward to your future columns!
Okay, that’s it. I want to see both of you after class. I have some erasers that need cleaning.
You think I care? I don’t care. The only reason I go to this fuckin’ school is because my friends are here. – Rusty James, “Rumble Fish”