Defending the Critic

"You're wrong."

These are, of course, not easy words to hear.  Nobody wants to believe that an opinion that they have taken the time to carefully cultivate may be incorrect.  It can knock us back on our heals when somebody gathers the nerve to call us out for something we think.  

Our first response may be to feel insulted.  Then we get defensive.  Thankfully, though, in many situations, we'll calm down and reevaluate what's going on.  Because, you know what?  Maybe they're right.  Maybe they have more information than I do and are simply setting me straight.  

The professional world depends on consumers realizing that they do not know more than the expert they're consulting.  The doctor knows more about medicine, the politician knows more about the economy, the mechanic knows more about cars.  With these examples firmly in mind, we accept the correction of those whose job it is to know all about that of which we know very little.  We shell out our cash and assume everything is fine.

There are very few professional opinions out there that are instinctively dismissed by the public.  I mentioned politicians a moment ago; the public stopped trusting Washington bureaucrats years ago.  Still, though, most people have a few lawmakers that they like and have absolute faith in.  

For my money, I'd say that the profession that is most often called out by the public is that of art critic.  I am, of course, referring to those few who have chosen to educate themselves on a specific artistic medium (film, literature, music, etc.) and, on a regular basis, offer up their informed opinions to the public.  These opinions are meant to be as objective as possible; not somebody from inside the artistic mechanism, but rather somebody outside it, providing perspective both to the artist and the audience.

I've always viewed the critic as a sort of consumer advocate, whose job it is to inform the public when they're being sold a bill of goods.  It is also the critic's job to shame those cynical few whose opinion of the audience is clearly so low that they feel they can release any ol' piece of garbage and the people will gobble it up.  The critic's job is to demand more, both of the artist and the audience.  Laziness on either side will not and should not be tolerated.  If you're lucky enough to be blessed with natural artistic talent, you damned well better employ it to the best of your ability.  And if the artist is willing to do that, the audience should be willing to accept nothing less.

Often, the critic is shouted down as a snob; somebody who can't let go of their snooty intellectualism and just have a good time.  Or perhaps they're failed artists themselves who have chosen to take out their frustration on the art world that so cruelly rejected them.  Either way, they're ruining our fun.  We're not looking for something heavy, right?  We just want to be entertained.  

Of course, there is something to be said for entertainment.  However, the critic's definition of "entertainment" isn't as narrow as one might think.  Let's take our examples from the world of film, shall we?  The film critic can be entertained by anything, from silent film to slapstick comedy to experimental drama.  How many can say the same for themselves?  

It has often been said that the critic hates art and positions himself as the enemy of art.  And perhaps there are a few who have become so academic in their analysis that they have lost perspective themselves.  But, in all honesty, that is the minority.  The majority of critics love what they talk about and will champion great art and free expression to their dying day.  What they hate is bad art.  Cheap romance novels, by-the-numbers music, mindless movie parodies.  Art that makes no attempt at greatness; art that merely settles for what it can achieve easily.  That is what the critic hates and, indeed, what the audience would hate, too, if only it knew what to look for.

That is the critic's job, above all else: equip the audience with all the information that it needs to form an educated opinion.  Many audiences don't think they need this information.  They feel that simply the act of viewing the art is enough; they opinion matters just as much as anybody else's.  

The sad fact is, it doesn't.  Somebody who looked something up on WebMD.com may feel informed enough to question a doctor, but it's not the same as years of medical school.  A person may be convinced that, because they have a driver's license, that means their opinion is just as valid as that of their mechanic.  

And somebody who reads a lot of John Grisham may feel that a literary critic is a snob for preferring the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky to those of Sue Grafton.  

Critics are there to educate and inform the audience; to help us truly see what we have viewed.  To digest the art that we have seen, absorb it, interpret it, and make it a part of who we are.  The critic holds the audience up to a higher intellectual standard, acting on the assumption that the audience wants to be thought of not only as learned, but also as willing to learn.  

Regardless of what people say, the critic is not irrelevant.  The critic serves one of the most important roles in civilized society.  He looks at the messages being put out there- by artists, by politicians, by pundits- and filters it through his own prism of education, instinct, and intellect.  He struggles to balance his objectivity and personal experience, always tempering one with the other.  

He has the thankless job of keeping his expectations high, when the world around him is, it seems, constantly lobbying to get the bar lowered even more.  He has seen what happens when artists achieve great things and an audience accepts it.  It can bring people together in a way nothing else can; people of different genders, races, and ages.  Great art can touch people on the most basic human level, so that superficial differences seem trivial by comparison.  

The critic has seen this happen in the past and prays for it happen again.  He demands more from art than to be merely adequate.  He demands that it be memorable; something that a person can carry with them when they exit the theater, or close the book, or turn off the stereo.  We need critics.  Not only to demand more from art, but to demand more from us.