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Better Criticism: Ten Commandments for a dying Art
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August 24, 2018
In Chris Tookey's Better Criticism [Arena Books], a cogent and carefully written analysis of criticism itself, he quotes UK theatre critic Michael Coveney that although everyone's entitled to an opinion, that is not an example of criticism per se.
As a critic himself of many decades, Tookey bemoans the continued disappearance of critical guidelines throughout popular culture in the west. And, with the help of an inordinate number of quotes, mostly by fellow critics, he makes a cogent case for rigour, despite the inevitable decline.
I should declare an interest in reviewing Chris's book. During my own ten years as London Editor of Film Journal International I first met Chris as a colleague at the daily screenings we both attended, and then at meetings of the Film Branch of The UK Critics Circle. I also knew his wife who worked in the film industry, as did I. And, when Chris gave me the honour of becoming Chief Researcher on his widely acclaimed book A Critic's Guide, I got to know him as a person.
The focus of the critic must be calibrated to include an understanding of the form or genre, as well as the subject under discussion. Merely to opine that one likes, promotes, or favours this or that film, football match, party leader or deity is to reduce every cultural construct to a preferred ice cream flavour.
Taking a cue from the sub-title of his book - Ten Commandments For A Dying Art- Chris Tookey addresses that sense of a targeted overview, organising his catechism of criticism like some pop-culture Moses.
What this current work affirms is his affable manner, unquestioned intellect, and an ability to be both serious and find the humour in accepting a changing world. There is much we don't agree about, especially given our different interpretations of the socio-political scene against which we measure our critiques. But I trust Chris' honesty and admire his willingness to put himself on a firing line often peopled by an ever-increasing vacuous crowd of Tweeters and Facebook ranters.
It was with no little degree of apprehension that I found a script on my reading pile when I was a development executive for BBC Television Series. It was a dramatisation of P. G. Wodehouse's famous porker The Empress of Blandings, and to my surprise, it was by Chris. Till then I'd had no idea he was anything but a film critic. As I read, my apprehension turned to delight almost instantly - it was a fine piece of work adapted not only with great respect, but a solid understanding of the dramatic process. I had no hesitation in recommending the project to the Head of the Drama Series department as a serious contender for our forward planning. That the script was passed over by the Channel controller was, I felt, a big mistake.
But it's that pesky business of process which I feel has left Chris' Ten Commandments with a critical gap. Like Otten's recycled articles, he's relied heavily on some previous references quoted in A Critic's Guide. Whereas that book quite rightly allowed the quotes themselves to provide entertainment for readers craving a giggle, for those laughing at as well as with the pontificators, Better Criticism purports to critique all aspects of contemporary culture.
So it's all the more surprising that so few of the quotes of others, as well as his own, concern the vital process of the subject in question. There's no way in the space of this review to address the plethora of such quotes, so I've had to pick and choose to make some general points.
And, just parenthetically, this brilliantly researched book could benefit from a comprehensive index - though that would undoubtedly double its size!
Chris's Oxford education raises him head and shoulders above those opinionated amateurs increasingly beloved of media editors, largely in pursuit of some elusive honey to trap fickle readers. Although my own higher education included a less salubrious New York City university, my degree courses in Literature and Fine Arts introduced me to classical critical works by Aristotle and Plotinus as well as the pioneering social critique of Lincoln Steffens. I totally agree with Chris that such touchstones are being hammered into dust by those who have precious little preparation as critics.
One of the bugbears of my own varied career as a practitioner/performer, a director and teacher of directors, a producer and script executive, as well as a writer and critic has long been the misunderstanding of so many people who are part of the process of collaborating to bring entertainment to audiences. And that's before critics can get their mitts on them. By far the most glaring of these are first the attribution to a director of aspects often in the control of others, and to actors for choices equally out of their hands.
The process of getting a show off the ground and onto the stage, or a film that screens or streams into the eyeballs of eager fans, is arcane to say the least. As Chris points out with cogent force, a critic needs to be aware of, but does not have to have played an active part in theprocess, any more than a restaurant critic needs to be able to rival a Michelin-starred chef before considering what ingredients and techniques have been applied to create the dish being tasted. But they still need to be able to make the connection between the process and the result. Otherwise, we're into that "I like this" or "I don't like this" non-criticism. Which, presumably, is the raison d'etre of Chris's book.
Another general point is the way Chris writes about a certain, now retired US theatre critic John Simon. While describing his style several times as "acerbic," and admitting that most of his colleagues expressed great antipathy towards him, he seems to downplay the viciousness and even racism of his reviews, in favour of emphasising the erudition and precision to be expected by a Harvard graduate who was raised in pre-WWII Hungary. As Chris reveals, Simon became most well-known over the decades for his poison-pen descriptions of the physical appearance of actors.
To be fair, Chris tries to redress the balance by quoting the late Roger Ebert's pithy observation that actors can't help how they look, any more than Simon can help looking like a rat. I'm focusing on Chris' heavy reliance on John Simon quotes because I happen to have known him during the mid-1960s. He was just beginning to earn a reputation as the enfant terrible of diatribe, and I'd recently been invited to join the nascent La MaMa Troupe under the direction of Tom O'Horgan, then emerging as the superstar and saviour of American theatre along with writers Sam Shepard, Lanford Wilson, Paul Foster, and Rochelle Owens. For reference Tom directed Hair on Broadway and the West End, as well as Jesus Christ Superstar.
It was Paul's expressionistic Tom Paine and Rochelle's pseudo-hillbilly allegory Futz! about a farmer in love with his pig which caused John Simon to fulminate and write with a pen filled with bile. Although he never singled me out, all of us in the Troupe were by turns amused and disgusted by his rage and homophobic references every time the media shone a spotlight on his castigations.
The most important thing about Simon's pieces at the time was the phoniness of his published judgments. It was only after we'd encountered him in the many shoulder-rubbing events and venues that fuelled the off-off-Broadway scene, that he admitted to us that the magazine he wrote for paid him precisely to rustle up such provocation, without ever expressing what he might actually feel. The closest he came to revealing himself in public was in a debate hosted by The Village Voice and covered by all the uptown media mainstream. We in the Troupe as well as those writers who later became some of the most lauded in American theatre history, all challenged him with an intellectual force that floored him. And, for once, shut him up.
Now, Chris couldn't have possibly known about that. So I read his somewhat sneaky admiration of Simon's "acerbic wit" with more than a little reserve. And even though he takes some other critics to task for including irrelevant physical characteristics in assessing performances, Chris himself introduces another controversial critic Bernard Levin as being "diminutive." He doesn't actually compare Levin to that misshapen social critic and poet Alexander Pope, but it certainly floated into my mind when I read that. And I know whom I consider to be the better pen wielder.
Although his 10-point codification of what makes a good, even a great critic is more than convincing, many of the chapter sub-headings might easily be re-routed elsewhere. What those sub-sections allow is the space and confidence to pit the quotes of others alongside Chris' own feelings about aspects of critical analysis. For although his focus inevitably sharpens to the world of cinema, he's equally comfortable including critiques of restaurants, music, and literature. Some of these mini-essays, always beautifully honed as writing, perhaps reveal more about himself than the subjects being discussed.
Early on Chris claims, nay protests, he's biased neither left or right. Yet his choices and between-the-lines often belie such neutrality, despite, among others, a relatively even-handed assessment of the late troubled journalist A. A. Gill.
Almost inevitably, he chooses to quote from right-of-centre papers to introduce fairly amusing, even downright hilarious quotes about left-leaning artists, or their works. And he adds his own voice in that tone as well. This often confuses the subject matter of, say, a film, with the political affiliation of its makers.
The book is full of these, yet no balance of bias, for example, is noted in labelling that great director John Ford as particularly right-wing, comments on capitalism notwithstanding. I may have missed it, but can't remember even one quote from avowedly leftie journalist Jeff Sawtell, an equally articulate and informed writer for the Morning Star, the only communist daily in the UK. There's also a fair amount of reference to homosexuality as a pejorative concept, particularly when coupled with the left-wing affiliation of a filmmaker or artist.
Given all that, Better Criticism is worth reading by anyone with an interest in the way assessments of popular culture continue to disturb our world. Nowhere has Chris dished up so appealingly his overview of that world than in the sub-sections on Hazlitt and Ruskin. Without any irony in a work examining changing 21st century mores, Chris's careful and caring mini-essays about two of the most influential 18th century writers and critics informs nearly all else under his scrutiny.
As a critic himself of many decades, Tookey bemoans the continued disappearance of critical guidelines throughout popular culture in the west. And, with the help of an inordinate number of quotes, mostly by fellow critics, he makes a cogent case for rigour, despite the inevitable decline.
I should declare an interest in reviewing Chris's book. During my own ten years as London Editor of Film Journal International I first met Chris as a colleague at the daily screenings we both attended, and then at meetings of the Film Branch of The UK Critics Circle. I also knew his wife who worked in the film industry, as did I. And, when Chris gave me the honour of becoming Chief Researcher on his widely acclaimed book A Critic's Guide, I got to know him as a person.
The focus of the critic must be calibrated to include an understanding of the form or genre, as well as the subject under discussion. Merely to opine that one likes, promotes, or favours this or that film, football match, party leader or deity is to reduce every cultural construct to a preferred ice cream flavour.
Taking a cue from the sub-title of his book - Ten Commandments For A Dying Art- Chris Tookey addresses that sense of a targeted overview, organising his catechism of criticism like some pop-culture Moses.
What this current work affirms is his affable manner, unquestioned intellect, and an ability to be both serious and find the humour in accepting a changing world. There is much we don't agree about, especially given our different interpretations of the socio-political scene against which we measure our critiques. But I trust Chris' honesty and admire his willingness to put himself on a firing line often peopled by an ever-increasing vacuous crowd of Tweeters and Facebook ranters.
It was with no little degree of apprehension that I found a script on my reading pile when I was a development executive for BBC Television Series. It was a dramatisation of P. G. Wodehouse's famous porker The Empress of Blandings, and to my surprise, it was by Chris. Till then I'd had no idea he was anything but a film critic. As I read, my apprehension turned to delight almost instantly - it was a fine piece of work adapted not only with great respect, but a solid understanding of the dramatic process. I had no hesitation in recommending the project to the Head of the Drama Series department as a serious contender for our forward planning. That the script was passed over by the Channel controller was, I felt, a big mistake.
But it's that pesky business of process which I feel has left Chris' Ten Commandments with a critical gap. Like Otten's recycled articles, he's relied heavily on some previous references quoted in A Critic's Guide. Whereas that book quite rightly allowed the quotes themselves to provide entertainment for readers craving a giggle, for those laughing at as well as with the pontificators, Better Criticism purports to critique all aspects of contemporary culture.
So it's all the more surprising that so few of the quotes of others, as well as his own, concern the vital process of the subject in question. There's no way in the space of this review to address the plethora of such quotes, so I've had to pick and choose to make some general points.
And, just parenthetically, this brilliantly researched book could benefit from a comprehensive index - though that would undoubtedly double its size!
Chris's Oxford education raises him head and shoulders above those opinionated amateurs increasingly beloved of media editors, largely in pursuit of some elusive honey to trap fickle readers. Although my own higher education included a less salubrious New York City university, my degree courses in Literature and Fine Arts introduced me to classical critical works by Aristotle and Plotinus as well as the pioneering social critique of Lincoln Steffens. I totally agree with Chris that such touchstones are being hammered into dust by those who have precious little preparation as critics.
One of the bugbears of my own varied career as a practitioner/performer, a director and teacher of directors, a producer and script executive, as well as a writer and critic has long been the misunderstanding of so many people who are part of the process of collaborating to bring entertainment to audiences. And that's before critics can get their mitts on them. By far the most glaring of these are first the attribution to a director of aspects often in the control of others, and to actors for choices equally out of their hands.
The process of getting a show off the ground and onto the stage, or a film that screens or streams into the eyeballs of eager fans, is arcane to say the least. As Chris points out with cogent force, a critic needs to be aware of, but does not have to have played an active part in theprocess, any more than a restaurant critic needs to be able to rival a Michelin-starred chef before considering what ingredients and techniques have been applied to create the dish being tasted. But they still need to be able to make the connection between the process and the result. Otherwise, we're into that "I like this" or "I don't like this" non-criticism. Which, presumably, is the raison d'etre of Chris's book.
Another general point is the way Chris writes about a certain, now retired US theatre critic John Simon. While describing his style several times as "acerbic," and admitting that most of his colleagues expressed great antipathy towards him, he seems to downplay the viciousness and even racism of his reviews, in favour of emphasising the erudition and precision to be expected by a Harvard graduate who was raised in pre-WWII Hungary. As Chris reveals, Simon became most well-known over the decades for his poison-pen descriptions of the physical appearance of actors.
To be fair, Chris tries to redress the balance by quoting the late Roger Ebert's pithy observation that actors can't help how they look, any more than Simon can help looking like a rat. I'm focusing on Chris' heavy reliance on John Simon quotes because I happen to have known him during the mid-1960s. He was just beginning to earn a reputation as the enfant terrible of diatribe, and I'd recently been invited to join the nascent La MaMa Troupe under the direction of Tom O'Horgan, then emerging as the superstar and saviour of American theatre along with writers Sam Shepard, Lanford Wilson, Paul Foster, and Rochelle Owens. For reference Tom directed Hair on Broadway and the West End, as well as Jesus Christ Superstar.
It was Paul's expressionistic Tom Paine and Rochelle's pseudo-hillbilly allegory Futz! about a farmer in love with his pig which caused John Simon to fulminate and write with a pen filled with bile. Although he never singled me out, all of us in the Troupe were by turns amused and disgusted by his rage and homophobic references every time the media shone a spotlight on his castigations.
The most important thing about Simon's pieces at the time was the phoniness of his published judgments. It was only after we'd encountered him in the many shoulder-rubbing events and venues that fuelled the off-off-Broadway scene, that he admitted to us that the magazine he wrote for paid him precisely to rustle up such provocation, without ever expressing what he might actually feel. The closest he came to revealing himself in public was in a debate hosted by The Village Voice and covered by all the uptown media mainstream. We in the Troupe as well as those writers who later became some of the most lauded in American theatre history, all challenged him with an intellectual force that floored him. And, for once, shut him up.
Now, Chris couldn't have possibly known about that. So I read his somewhat sneaky admiration of Simon's "acerbic wit" with more than a little reserve. And even though he takes some other critics to task for including irrelevant physical characteristics in assessing performances, Chris himself introduces another controversial critic Bernard Levin as being "diminutive." He doesn't actually compare Levin to that misshapen social critic and poet Alexander Pope, but it certainly floated into my mind when I read that. And I know whom I consider to be the better pen wielder.
Although his 10-point codification of what makes a good, even a great critic is more than convincing, many of the chapter sub-headings might easily be re-routed elsewhere. What those sub-sections allow is the space and confidence to pit the quotes of others alongside Chris' own feelings about aspects of critical analysis. For although his focus inevitably sharpens to the world of cinema, he's equally comfortable including critiques of restaurants, music, and literature. Some of these mini-essays, always beautifully honed as writing, perhaps reveal more about himself than the subjects being discussed.
Early on Chris claims, nay protests, he's biased neither left or right. Yet his choices and between-the-lines often belie such neutrality, despite, among others, a relatively even-handed assessment of the late troubled journalist A. A. Gill.
Almost inevitably, he chooses to quote from right-of-centre papers to introduce fairly amusing, even downright hilarious quotes about left-leaning artists, or their works. And he adds his own voice in that tone as well. This often confuses the subject matter of, say, a film, with the political affiliation of its makers.
The book is full of these, yet no balance of bias, for example, is noted in labelling that great director John Ford as particularly right-wing, comments on capitalism notwithstanding. I may have missed it, but can't remember even one quote from avowedly leftie journalist Jeff Sawtell, an equally articulate and informed writer for the Morning Star, the only communist daily in the UK. There's also a fair amount of reference to homosexuality as a pejorative concept, particularly when coupled with the left-wing affiliation of a filmmaker or artist.
Given all that, Better Criticism is worth reading by anyone with an interest in the way assessments of popular culture continue to disturb our world. Nowhere has Chris dished up so appealingly his overview of that world than in the sub-sections on Hazlitt and Ruskin. Without any irony in a work examining changing 21st century mores, Chris's careful and caring mini-essays about two of the most influential 18th century writers and critics informs nearly all else under his scrutiny.
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