Many newspaper reviewers, including this one, are writers who have arrived at their jobs by coming up through the ranks of journalism. Initially, as we begin our newspaper careers, we cover the day-to-day general assignment beats of our papers, learning our craft and our city; and then, as the window of opportunity opens, we gravitate toward reporting on and reviewing the arts and entertainment.
There’s an advantage to this kind of training. It gives potential reviewers a solid grounding in the basic skills of reporting, and, most important, it teaches us how to work under deadline pressure. Many a night when I’ve had about 45 minutes to file what I hope will be a decent review, I’ve silently blessed my years as a rewrite man at the old Chicago Daily News, where organizing a blizzard of facts and turning them into a tight, readable story in a matter of minutes was absolutely essential.
What I do, and what most newspaper reviewers do, is still anchored on the old rule of giving the reader an early, important look at the news on our beat. This first look rarely yields the last word in a review of the performing arts; but that initial visit to a play or musical nonetheless results in an important impression, written in the immediate aftermath of performance; and it is the job of the newspaper reviewer to relay that crucial first impression about a production to the reader.
Working on a tight time schedule (in my case, usually about 45 minutes to two hours) and with limited space (about 300 to 800 words), a newspaper reviewer doesn’t have the chance to be definitive; but at least one can get down the salient features of the work, trying to see what they all add up to. The review is not the supreme authority, but it is a ground-breaking effort, and, as such, it has its value, both as a judgment of the work and as a report of what happened–the way it was–at the theater last night.
I’m fortunate to work in Chicago, a city bustling with arts activity, but, with so much going on, picking what shows to review is not all that easy.
I write for a mass-market newspaper, which means I always review the big plays and musicals produced in the large theaters and auditoriums of the city. Beyond that, however, there are dozens of smaller resident theaters, each one wanting coverage. These are the theaters responsible for giving Chicago its unique status as a home for fresh, original, youthful work, and, in a newspaper serving its community, these are the theaters that demand and deserve attention.
In this case, the established, professional companies get first consideration. After that, I try to go exploring with the theater or production that offers something new or out of the ordinary.
Reviewing, after all, is a matter of discovery, and to be at work in the fields of discovery is to be a happy reviewer indeed. In my lifetime, I’ve had the thrill of being there for a first look at wonderful talents in their very beginnings. I’ve attended new plays by David Mamet and Scott McPherson, watched new actors like William L. Petersen and Laurie Metcalf, seen the work of new directors like Frank Galati and Robert Falls. What a job, what a pleasure.
As for the art of reviewing, it is essentially the same as it always has been: to answer three basic questions.
What is it?
How well is it done?
Is it worth doing?
Within that framework, there’s room for much variation in emphasis. It’s necessary to include a certain amount of plot detail (but you never give away the ending); and in a musical, some hint of the quality of the songs and how well they are integrated within the production must be given.
Some works, such as a new production of Shakespeare, may require explanation of the director’s interpretation. Others, such as a brand new work by a brand new author, may demand analysis of the playwright’s style. Still others may cry out for a description of the elements of physical production– lighting, costuming, scenery–that distinguish the show.
More than that, the reviewer has to try to place the play in its context, to show where it comes from and, in some exceptional cases, to indicate where it might be heading. For example, looking at the Goodman Studio Theatre presentation of “Let Me Live,” by the playwright OyamO, you can pick out all the influences on his writing, but you can also see how his own talent has combined those influences into a singular piece of theater.
Reviewing is a part of journalism, which is a form of history. And, like all good journalism, it tries to tell its story in a readable, entertaining and authoritative manner.
The reviewer, just as with any member of the audience, is there with hopes of enjoying–and maybe learning. But if I’m doing my job well, I also come to the party with what one hopes is an abiding passion for the business at hand, a thorough knowledge of the field and a relevant educational background on the craft and art of theater.
Seated on the aisle (which makes for a quick getaway to the office), I try to come to a performance rested and relaxed, but having done some homework beforehand. I take notes, but not too many, because I want to concentrate on what’s going on in front of me.
Finally, my work as a newspaper reviewer involves acting as a consumer’s guide. The review is the first public word-of-mouth on a production, and readers–general readers as well as theater buffs–look to it to help determine if they want to spend their time and money on the show. This humble task has little to do with stating important theories of dramatic art, but it has a lot to do with serving the reader’s needs.
The best method by which a reader can learn to trust a reviewer is to read his or her work with some regularity. After a time, you get to know the reviewer’s tastes, strengths and weaknesses, and you can compare your judgments with those of the reviewers. If you’re generally in agreement, so much the better. If you consistently disagree, that’s a good guide too.
The important thing is to get out and experience a live performance. Going to the living theater has rewards that no form of canned entertainment, such as movies and television, can match. When that extraordinary electricity of a live performance switches on between an actor on stage and a customer in the audience, there’s nothing quite like it.
As the usher says as she leads you to your seat, “Enjoy the show.”
PREPARING FOR `DINNER’
SOMETIMES, A LITTLE HOMEWORK GOES A LONG WAY.
HERE IS RICHARD CHRISTIANSEN’S GUIDE TO `THE MAN WHO CAME TO DINNER’
Most people who go to the theater have at least some idea of what’s ahead of them, but the idea of actually preparing to enjoy a play or musical is not common among American audiences. Rather, the attitude is (as I’ve heard it expressed many times by customers around me), “So, what are we seeing tonight?”
It’s possible to enjoy a show with this kind of blank mindset, but in most cases, just a little homework will go a long way toward increasing your pleasure.
All plays, even new ones, have a history and a background that put them in perspective, and this is especially true of “The Man Who Came to Dinner.” It’s a comedy that was first produced on Broadway in 1939, and several of its characters, including the title role, are based on real media and show business celebrities of that time. Program notes for the current Steppenwolf revival offer a quick introduction to that era and to the two men, George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, who wrote the show.
Several theaters consistently use these program notes to offer brief biographies, histories and essays on their productions. Knowing this material (and maybe even reading a review or two of the play) puts the show in context and makes it more interesting in performance. In “The Man Who Came to Dinner,” a quick read through the program notes will, for instance, clue you in to Alan Wilder’s carefully calculated portrayal of Banjo, a zany comic resembling the real-life Harpo Marx.
As to the production itself, acting, direction, design and, above all, the script, are the elements that add up to a play’s whole.
It’s easy enough to spot the quality of the design. Your eyes will quickly let you know what kind of funding and imagination has gone into a show’s production values. With “Man,” you can tell that the money has been wisely spent. The setting of a Midwestern home is spacious and handsome (again, typical of the Broadway era it represents) and the costuming, while in sync with the ’30s style, looks fresh and appealing to our ’90s eyes.
But theater, unlike the movies, belongs primarily to the writer, not the designer or director. As the old saying goes: If it ain’t on the page, it ain’t on the stage.
If you read a drama by Shakespeare or Shaw, you’re aware that the writer has a command of three key factors in playwriting: language, characterization and dramatic structure. But, however beautiful the words or compelling the story, a writer’s work comes alive only through the actors, who give the dialogue the right emphasis, accent and timing.
Kaufman and Hart, a highly successful team of writers in the ’20s and ’30s, were celebrated for the crackling comic dialogue in their plays. A lot of their work depends on how well the lines are sold by the actors, and a lot of your enjoyment can come in recognizing how the actors (and their director) rise to the challenge of producing laughter from the printed text.
Even lines that are not amusing in themselves become hilarious when given the correct twist. For instance: John Mahoney, starring as the urbane, acerbic newspaper columnist Sheridan Whiteside, is first heard as a loud, angry voice offstage. We know that he’s confined to a wheelchair after a freak accident and we’re braced to see him storm on stage as a holy terror. Instead, he wheels on very quietly and takes a long, careful look at the various locals who have come to greet him. Then, after taking them in, one at a time, he slowly turns to his secretary and mutters, almost under his breath, “I may vomit.” The line is not funny in itself, but the situation created by the authors is amusing, and Mahoney’s delivery is terrific.
This is a play loaded with juicy character roles, and in sizing up the performance, it’s fun, and instructive, to see how the show’s many actors take advantage of the comic opportunities their roles offer. Just watching the way in which Shannon Cochran, as a vain and glamorous movie star, applies a little touchup job to her facial makeup tells us volumes about her psychological makeup.
The director, James Burrows, is responsible for much of this meticulously planned stage business. In comedy, they say, “Timing is everything,” and Burrows’ manipulation of each second is fascinating to behold. Not a word is spoken in a delicious little scene in which Mahoney wheels back and forth across the stage in frustration, but the furious pace with which he drives his wheelchair, and the sudden rage with which he bangs his fists against the chair’s arm rests give us a great insight into his spoiled brat personality.
Like Mahoney, the actors in this play use their bodies to make comic points and develop their profiles, Natalie West, as an extremely eccentric woman, with a fling of her hand suggests her pixilated character’s kooky nature; and Linda Kimbrough, always in a rush and moving with tensed muscles, perfectly conveys the comic stress under which her character, a beleaguered nurse assigned to Whiteside, operates.
Finally, of course, a play either works for you or it doesn’t. However well it has been produced, it just may not be to your liking. But when a play moves you–makes you laugh, cry or think–with an immediacy and directness that a live performance can engender, then your enjoyment and appreciation of the experience is likely to be increased by recognizing the tricks, devices and artfulness with which a production has been assembled. It makes you a better judge of the work, no matter your taste or inclination.
BIOGRAPHY
Born: Aug. 1, 1931, Berwyn, Ill.
Raised: Oak Park, Ill.
Education: Christ Lutheran Elementary School, Oak Park; Oak Park and River Forest Township High School; Carleton College, Northfield, Minn. (B.A.); Harvard University (one year of graduate work in English)
Professional history: Reporter at City News Bureau of Chicago, 1956-57; Chicago Daily News as general assignment reporter, features writer, arts and amusements editor and critic-at-large, 1957-73 and 1974-78; editor of The Chicagoan magazine, 1973-74; Chicago Tribune as critic-at-large, arts and entertainment editor, chief critic and senior writer, 1978 to the present
Critical influences: James Agee, Eric Bentley, Sydney J. Harris, Samuel Johnson, George Jean Nathan, George Bernard Shaw, Kenneth Tynan
Favorites: Play, “King Lear”; musical, “Les Miserables”; American play, “Long Day’s Journey into Night,” “The Glass Menagerie,” “You Can’t Take It With You”; American musical, “Little Me,” “Follies,” “A Chorus Line”; Chicago play, “American Buffalo,” “Bleacher Bums,” “Marvin’s Room”
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On the Internet: For a real audio interview of Richard Christiansen, archives of his reviews and a message board, visit chicago.tribune.com/go/critics
On CLTV: For interviews of the critics, watch “Around Chicagoland”
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Michael Wilmington
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May 17
THIS WEEK
Richard Christiansen
STAGE
UPCOMING
Blair Kamin
ARCHITECTURE
Howard Reich
JAZZ
Alan Artner
ART
Sid Smith
DANCE
Greg Kot
ROCK
Phil Vettel
DINING
John von Rhein
CLASSICAL
Steve Johnson
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