Not long ago, I walked into the ’92 for a senior thesis, a play. As a thesis-doer myself and a student with general interest in the play being shown, I was particularly excited. I had an idea of how history theses or biology theses are evaluated, but I was curious how the theatre department would be evaluating a directorial thesis. The acting? Stage direction? I snooped around looking for the answer to this question, and after asking about the cast and carefully scanning the playbill, I gathered that for this thesis, in particular, there was a special emphasis on how the director had decided to adapt and alter the show in order to put forth a new meaning.
Given the director’s interests, I was surprised to find information about the adaptation scant. This, to me, seemed at the heart of the production, and out of scholarly interest, I wanted to know more. I wanted to read the director’s thesis write-up that paired alongside their production. So, when the Argus published a review not too long afterwards, I quickly read it. I was immensely disappointed.
From personal experience, I recognize the amount of work and dedication that goes into making a thesis. But I don’t know how difficult or intense it is to direct a show; I don’t stay up until midnight working on the Argus publications. I don’t mean to diminish anyone’s work, no matter my personal feelings. My issues with the production and the review of the production are not intended to take away from this hard work, but rather to point to a larger issue.
The review was glowing and, at the same time, banal. Practically a plot summary, and moreover, no critiqueable aspect of the play was mentioned. And yet, somehow the production was lauded as spectacular. The art of reviewing—really, the art of the viewing—is a subjective one. I, as an audience member, was disappointed by the production. I felt its best moments were the ones closest to the original. That is not to say the performance had no redeeming qualities; some of the performances I found charming, and I had, at times, sore cheeks from smiling, but I was curious about how others felt.
I had hoped the interview with the director for the review would bring to light aspects of directorial intention which escaped both me and the playbill, especially not being able to read the student’s thesis essay. For the article, the director wrote about their central focus and then stated their argument as, what seemed to me, simply a definition of the play’s genre. The article did not comment on that lack of depth in the director’s answer. Perhaps the interview with the director had been clipped for the article, and perhaps the production was simply not to my taste; this is all fair in the game of viewing art. I was less dismayed that the article didn’t share my opinion than that article didn’t seem to really share any founded opinion. What bothered me, above all, was the lack of intellectual interest shown in the review.
As is perhaps already obvious thus far into this article, I wanted to talk about the play. I wanted to discuss it and debate it. This is Wesleyan, after all. We love discourse. It’s at the heart of so many of our courses. Scholarly discourse is healthy, and honesty is key. What, truly, is the point of publishing a review in the Argus when all the adjectives are shallow and pretty? When so many of the reviews follow the same arc: alternating between plot summary and compliments and quotes from those involved. When so many of the reviews read the same without any original analysis, what is the purpose of the review?
In 2019, Nathan Pugh ’21 published an article on reviews in The Argus. He argued for the right of the reviewer to offer a fair and thoughtful critique, upon backlash against a critical review of a student performance.
“Reviewers are trying to take an artist’s work very, very seriously… As theater artists, our dream is that every audience member watching our shows are as engaged, critically and emotionally, as a reviewer is,” Pugh wrote.
Pugh’s notion of reviewing respects the art and the art of reviewing. The play and review of the play to which I’m responding merely suffer from an endemic problem. There are many plausible explanations: that the writers of The Argus Arts & Culture section aren’t experienced in that sort of critique; that the lack of details indicate a euphemistic tendency away from honesty and fear against backlash on such a small campus; that the Argus simply needs to publish a review for each show. Writing a review without experience is unfair both to the writer and that which is being reviewed, euphemism has no place in journalism, and moving through the motions if only to fulfill a need discredits the need in the first place.
I’m graduating soon, and I’ve found that in my interpersonal relationships and in class, the most fruitful sort of conversation is one that challenges all parties involved to listen and learn and critique. I do not advocate for cruelty or biting reviews that lead little room for humanity, but I do advocate for care. This is not to say there aren’t careful and intentional reviews in the Argus—there are, with occasional passionate appreciation of the arts at Wesleyan, though often veering away from critique. The issue is larger and not the error of one show or one article. If a review cannot be fielded, it shouldn’t be. If it can, then it should be saying something, and above all, they should not be not saying something—if not for moral reasons, for journalistic integrity, then at the very least, for the scholarly spirit at the heart of this campus. It is that spirit that keeps us alive and interested in the world around us. Moving through the motions is but a slow march towards spiritual death.
Amalie Little is a member of the class of 2025 and can be reached at alittle@wesleyan.edu.
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