I had no part in the creation or performance of Ben Bernstein’s ’10 opera, “Patterns of Inheritance.” I nevertheless was deeply offended by Claire Greenwood’s review of the production (“’Patterns of Inheritance’ excels in style and score, falters on plot,” Oct. 31, 2008, Volume CXLIV, Number 16). Had Ms. Greenwood elected to provide a typical Argus theatrical review—an uninteresting but at least accurate summary of a performance’s events—or to take a critical look at the execution of Bernstein’s vision, I would likely only have a disagreement with her opinions. However, after watching what I believe was the boldest and most cohesive student work I’ve seen in my year and a half at Wesleyan (and certainly Second Stage’s best offering in that span), Ms. Greenwood decided to baselessly smear the artistic integrity of everyone involved in it. Because she did so eloquently, I feel her review demands a response.
Greenwood built a shaky foundation from which to hurl insults at “Patterns” in her opening paragraph. After taking Wesleyan students’ cluelessness for granted (“For most people, the word ’opera’ invokes images of chubby European men and women”), she proceeded to explain that she considers herself a “legitimate opera fan” because she enjoyed going to the San Francisco Metropolitan Opera as a child. Fine. I hoped that with such a thin basis for legit fandom, Ms. Greenwood would take pause before assaulting what was a powerfully sincere expression of her peers’ energies.
Unfortunately, it became immediately clear that Greenwood would hold little back. It also became immediately clear that “being biased about opera” was, for Greenwood, synonymous with being narrow-minded about art. “Patterns of Inheritance” gives us a unique perspective on the Internet — forcing a considerate audience to take a step back from the revolutionary phenomenon and look at it from a different perspective. That is all. The Internet is a dehumanizing, centerless realm with no protagonists. The real artistic failure of a piece about the Internet would have occurred if it had had a linear plot, easily pigeonholed heroes and “themes … embodied by a single actor.”
Greenwood, however, was for some reason not interested in examining the artistic goals of “Patterns of Inheritance.” Rather, she was content to dismissively write about how “Patterns” made her “lose interest” because of its “ambiguity and lack of plot,” because she couldn’t “understand what the message was. Should I support Obama? McCain? Should I read more or less? What exactly is the problem?”
As far as I can tell, the creators of “Patterns” never set out to deliver a “message” or to tell Claire Greenwood who to vote for. The era in which art was required to deliver a “message” or an emotional feeling to its observers ended about 100 years ago. The era in which storytelling was required to resolve a conflict has probably never existed. Having issues with a lack of message or conflict, then, is not enough to base an entire critical review around. If Greenwood has a problem with the development of modern art, fine. But that does not give her the right to completely ignore the artistic traditions that “Patterns of Inheritance” came out of.
Greenwood wrote at one point about how “the going in ’Patterns’ got tough.” The going got tough?! The thing was an hour long! An hour of sensory overload! How an audience member could have been bored is beyond me. Bernstein’s minimalist score was immediately appealing. Though little to no mention of these elements was made by Greenwood, six dancers provided excellent, thematically relevant movement work throughout the performance. The “Patterns” orchestra was tight and sensitive, and the singers were all strong and on point. Ian Staub’s ’10 musical direction deserves praise. The director’s device of having two human characters was fully effective, giving the audience a vantage point from which to view the chaos surrounding them. The actors playing these roles did well in making this happen. Greenwood, sadly, considered none of this in her review.
Criticisms of student art can have a place in our public dialogue. At its best, criticism can help the reader of it discover new implications and connections within the critically examined work. But for Argus-published criticism to be written from a small-minded, short-attention spanned perspective is deeply insulting not only to the creators of the criticized art, but to Argus readers as well. Claire Greenwood’s dismissal of “Patterns of Inheritance” is indicative of an Argus trend toward the mediocre and now, hurtful, in its theatrical reviews. I strongly encourage the Argus Arts editors to raise the standards for the criticism they publish.
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