I often remark here on the subjectivity of criticism: the way we
consciously filter those aspects of a production that we consider worth
writing about, and unconsciously filter what we actually see and hear
in the first place. Does this mean that reviewers are unreliable,
no more to be trusted than anyone else? No, it doesn’t: our
filters are based on a wider range of experience, probably also on
experience built up over a longer period; we are aware of our
subjectivity and work to minimise it where we realise it may amount to
prejudice, and to acknowledge it in lesser cases. At least,
that’s what we do if we understand our work and our duty to readers,
and take them seriously.
Sometimes these filters are the product of culture and
conditioning. I recently discussed Jamie Lloyd’s production of
Salome with a friend; I, whilst
not championing it fervently, noted (as I do in my
FT review) that it was in keeping
with the usual Headlong aesthetic of radical re-envisioning of a
classic text, much to her amusement. She is German, and works in
a theatre culture which not only feels free to re-interpret works with
much greater latitude but tends to feel that not to do so is
cowardly. (Indeed, she recently found that in a staging of one of
her own plays, the director had decided that one of the two characters
was to be played by an alpaca. That’s right, the llama-like South
American camelid
Vicugna pacos,
live onstage, playing a New Yorker. She hardly batted an
eyelid... the writer, that is, at this staging choice; neither of us
saw the alpaca’s performance.) And sometimes they are the result
of a simple slip of memory or association, such as Quentin Letts
hearing in
The Comedy Of Errors “an
echo from”
Richard II, which
according to most Shakespeare chronologies was written between one year
and seven years later.
Comparative
But if you really want to see subjectivity in action, look for a batch
of comparative reviews like those of The Bridge Project’s second year
offerings
As You Like It and
The Tempest. Almost all of us
agree that neither of these is among director Sam Mendes’ more
sensational productions... but when it comes to which of the two is
better, we grow fractious. Is
As
You Like It a more meritorious production because it does not
shy away from the chills running through the play, especially its
earlier acts... or is it doing the play a disservice because in
emphasising the shadows it compromises the work’s comic, affirmative
core? Is
The Tempest more
to be admired for staging it explicitly as a series of Prospero’s
invocations and manipulations in his magic circle, or reproved for
cutting and unbalancing the original text? (I am sure that
neither of these dimensions – the darkness of one play, the selectivity
of the other – would be an issue for my German friend.) Two other
points, however, were pretty much beyond dispute: we didn’t find
convincing Mendes’ use of Ted Hughes’ argument that
The Tempest consciously
recapitulates
As You Like It’s
themes of father/daughter exile and usurpation, and we found Stephen
Dillane frequently inaudible. Disdaining stagy oratory is one
thing, but disdaining making oneself heard is something else again.
Written
for Theatre Record.