By Drewbob

February 2, 2008 4:05 PM | Link to this

Kind of snarky, Wendell!

By Mark Russ

February 3, 2008 5:34 PM | Link to this

Wendell Brock’s review of Steve Yockey’s “Octopus” at Actor’s Express is a bust for several reasons. Among them, it lacks accuracy regarding objective character elements and, in one choice phrase, correct grammar (“The two opening scenes… is wonderfully written….”). My real objection, however, is that rather than passably perform his function of responding directly to a stage work, Brock uses “Octopus” as an opportunity to object to a phenomenon he names “dramaturgical glee.” (Drum roll in honor of his wittily coined term:) Dramaturgical glee is wild anticipation among theater folk for an undeserving show. This anticipation proliferates… er, sorry- dramaturgical glee proliferates because “somebody in the theater community” falls in love with a mediocre script and successfully talks it up among other pompous theater fools who love mediocre scripts until everyone’s wearing the emperor’s new clothes.

In his writing Brock goes for a watered-down version of iconoclastic New York Times theater critic Ben Brantley, but he doesn’t emulate the greater (and more useful) one’s honorable habit of the direct hit. So, connecting the dots we find two important claims: “Octopus” is a mediocre script and its production arrives with foolish, unwarranted excitement from Actor’s Express.
The latter claim is joke. For one, it calls Actor’s Express a pack of idiots who like bad plays because they’re bad or (as indicated later in the review) because they don’t read whole plays. This is dumb on its face and merits no further comment. Two, it chastises Actor’s Express, its support network and attending audience for promoting and/or being excited about a show. That’s even dumber. Brock doesn’t reveal any detailed information about the expressions of excitement that have clearly so offended him, but it’s evident he detects some intolerable corruption; i.e., people are excited about “Octopus,” and they should not be. That he sees it as his role to “burst the bubble” is equally self-righteous and asinine.

At least the former claim aspires to theater criticism. He doesn’t like the play’s introduction of fantastical elements and writes that, with them, “everything goes wildly off-kilter….” But are there any insights into the playwright’s failure here? None beyond assertion of every critic’s privilege to take refuge in that clichaic, pale opprobrium of “overwrought metaphors” before making additional saucy allegations of dramaturgical glee. I say that he “aspires” to review because when he actually lifts his finger to do so, the inaccuracies and inconsistencies fly. Firstly, the play is decidedly not satire, as he writes. (No, not even a little, Wendell; look it up.) Secondly, Blake’s fear of getting sick does not turn into hysteria. It is obvious Blake is not hysterical but clearly, pointedly angry, and that is not due to fear of getting sick. (See it again and pay attention.) Thirdly, this play in particular demonstrates that Yockey is not working with a modernist, Kafka-esque “signature device” but expanding identifiable post-modern themes that, if one must make references, relate infinitely better to the Beckett tradition in both theater and fiction. The review’s biggest failure is to recognize that “Octopus” gives usually amorphous post-modern themes more communicative, expressive shape. Its unique success is to convey the full existential horror of failed human identity while offering an authentic and credible hope for transcendence. Being that post-modernism has overwhelmingly trafficked in nihilistic perspectives and outcomes, “Octopus” must qualify as innovative. Transcendence is also a new theme within Yockey’s body of work. But (picture the jaded critic yawning) Wendell can’t be bothered.

What passes for authority in Brock’s piece is that he points out the similarity between the Kevin-Blake relationship and the Louis-Prior relationship from Tony Kushner’s “Angels in America.” While it’s a valid observation, Brock simply does not weigh the questions it raises. Bam. He goes straight for gotcha criticism and calls the play “warmed-over Tony Kushner.” There’s zero acknowledgement of the plentiful differentiations (which could fill pages) that establish “Octopus” as a play with an entirely different trajectory. And how could it not have a different trajectory? “Angels” opened on Broadway 15 years ago!! Rather, Brock contents himself with a reference used as license to sling mud for two paragraphs. This is troubling not because of the hack criticism, but for the fact that Brock sees it as his job to stamp a b*** “seen that” on powerfully relevant dramatic circumstances (the survivability of gay relationships in the face of HIV/AIDS) and then slap the playwright’s wrist for taking it up. I’ll coin a fancy term for that: Critical Stalinism.

Bad reviews are par for the course in theater. I don’t have a problem with them. I have a problem with incompetent reviews, and Brock’s review is incompetent for all the foregoing reasons and more. Moreover, that it heaps scorn on honorable efforts to promote theater in Atlanta is beyond bad form.

By Eric Radke

February 5, 2008 1:28 PM | Link to this

There is really nothing that irritates me more than a critic more interested in unleashing his own snarky barbs than he is in actually providing thoughtful criticism of the work at hand. The comments by Mark Russ are quite eloquent, so I’ll just say this. It is shameful that the critic for the “paper of record” in Atlanta, would reduce himself to such juvenile tactics and dismiss a production’s artistic merit so entirely. I saw Octopus in previews and was entirely engaged and left considering points the show raised. It was a compelling work that I have recommended since. If Brock didn’t like it, or somehow did not connect with the play, I suppose that’s his own right. But to cast it off as derivative of Kushner and unworthy of production only shows his own ignorance of theatre in general, Kushner and Yockey in particular, and perhaps also himself. Shameful. I expected more from Brock. How disappointing.

By Eric Radke

February 5, 2008 1:29 PM | Link to this

There is really nothing that irritates me more than a critic more interested in unleashing his own snarky barbs than he is in actually providing thoughtful criticism of the work at hand. The comments by Mark Russ are quite eloquent, so I’ll just say this. It is shameful that the critic for the “paper of record” in Atlanta, would reduce himself to such juvenile tactics and dismiss a production’s artistic merit so entirely. I saw Octopus in previews and was entirely engaged and left considering points the show raised. It was a compelling work that I have recommended since. If Brock didn’t like it, or somehow did not connect with the play, I suppose that’s his own right. But to cast it off as derivative of Kushner and unworthy of production only shows his own ignorance of theatre in general, Kushner and Yockey in particular, and perhaps also himself. Shameful. I expected more from Brock. How disappointing.