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| Thursday, May 31, 2007
Remembering Review Writing Writer : Dawn FungI believe that it's time to rethink the art of review writing*. Between those who hold it as a public verdict, and those who sincerely believe in the power of document, review writing has done both of that. Where, however, is the art of review writing, which is merely an evaluation of something else? In reality, the first group who eagerly devour reviews are mostly the performers themselves, or if not, their administrators and shoppers. These people are those most directly involved with the content, with the latter thinking to pay to watch the show. I do not say this lightly, for working in the magazine has proven that companies, performers and shoppers are most eager to have you watch the work and then read your writing. I note the relish that comes with CD samples or free tickets, that a review is guaranteed in honour of this wonderful offer bestowed upon influential, tired and broke writers. This group has the time and commitment to scour publications online and off for their own portfolio. Obviously what people think of their work matters. The shoppers also trust that the reviewer has had the decency of offering them a candid take of a show, and should therefore trust that it would be safe to proceed. And this is the first concept of a review - it shows interest in the work of the artists, no matter the verdict. The very act of review writing belies an interest in the careers (and lives) of the art-makers and the people around them. The second group are readers who read reviews for recommendations and notes about life. Review writing documents an event in history, no matter how tiny or huge, that might one day be classified as a study of mankind or a certain artist's achievements in later years. (Look at how contemporary features on rock celebrities dig out reviews from old music magazines to legitimise their status in history - Mojo's publication on Bob Dylan is one example.) I find myself going through art reviews more frequently in order to keep myself updated on the scene and also to discover what someone else saw, even if I was unable to be there. The second concept of review writing is that it locates and stores a memory of an event for the reader. The art of review writing is to take a firm ownership of the message that one will deliver, going through details that would be of use to the reader, in reminding him/her that this once happened and that was what you came away with, and what that cost you. For the 'art' in the writing is the creation of a world through a certain time, that concretises certain notions you had about the performance, the artists, the art and yourself. This world would be inhabited through an amalgamation of thought, offered to the public readers to enter and immortalise through their belief. If this sounds unspectacular and somewhat familiar, then it is. Such 'art' bonds the community and provides a bridge to understand even the most inane and irritated of reviewers. For in a performance, one has invited a reviewer to sit in and take at his/her will, the pieces that will create this world. How complete we assume our art to be is partly determined by the kind of community we invite to the performance, and their response. Twice I remembered a class taught by Jill Davis (University of Kent) on performance review. On the first occasion, we had finished watching a West End play, The Diary of Anne Frank. All of us were to give a short description of what we thought. Everyone had a nifty, objective view to what it could have been, or politely decided on memorable moments. I was the last person next to Jill, and I had mentioned that it had a wonderful ending. Towards Jill's turn, everyone watched expectantly. Jill, her face sombre, waited for a moment, flipped the programme on her lap and exclaimed, "It was bloody awful!" Everyone burst into laughter. What struck me then was the curt and frankness of her answer, that one could call a performance plain awful. In that setting where honesty is really the best policy in order to learn, I was convicted for that lesson. The other memorable classroom discussion of performance review came after watching Saburo Teshigawara's Zero. The dancer and his show impacted me deeply. I voiced out my approval for the performance and how it mesmerised me. Amidst the boredom of my English classmates, who at that time thought the world of straight text work, Jill agreed with me. I was quite certain then that I had 'done it', that is, did what the teacher liked, and would quite likely score a high one. And it was true. The reviews that we wrote showed a certain depth and sensitivity in understanding the material, but we were aware that at the end, they were subject to the supervisor's grading. Yet the lesson in this was to stick true to those things which you enjoyed and be bold to keep sharing it with others. That is how art grows, and the names of those artists grows. The art of review writing somehow encapsulates their celebrity through one's strong interest to remember. Today I dare suggest that review writing needs to be honest no matter the age or scope of the writer, although one should mature through ruthless exposure to many many performances and an indecent absorption of lateral influence through reading, watching and dialoguing with other people besides oneself. Another thing is that the nature of review is always up for scrutiny. A tremendous amount of effort is placed into review writings to facilitate the knowledge of the writer, against the intention(s) of the performer and the curiosity of the reader. As a reader or performer reading that column, what piques my interest in reading reviews nowadays are really my own response to the written word. For what happens really, is that the reviewer has taken to task his/her ability to say what he/she thought, on a public or influential platform, as an official examination of the subject. For that is what review means, an evaluation. The grey bits of course, are whether the words are used to refresh memory, polish the performance or expound on a principle that the reviewer has discussed in his/her mind. This is what the reader takes away through his/her interpretation. Yet the presence of those words become a lens through which to cross-examine certain notions in the recipient. Notably, agreeing readers would approve more in silence than disagreeing ones with something further to add. Then again I am almost quite certain like what Jill had done in those two instances, was to reinforce that reviewing is the consequent response of a dialogue that the performance has initiated, and surely, you cannot fault but appreciate someone for being frank. This means that one's review writing would someday grow into that cranky and irreversible position of influence, sometimes constrained by word limits, but very loved and looked forward to. ------- *Review writing here is in the most general sense. especially in its dissimilarity to factual reporting.
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