It’s not a new debate but the argument over “snark” – what we’ll define here as excessive sarcasm – in dance criticism recently flared once again after a panel discussion entitled “Meet the Press” at the Dance/NYC symposium at the end of February. As part of the panel, participants weighed in on what some feel is an increase of snarky writing in dance criticism. Following the event, panelist Robert Johnson of the Star-Ledger wrote an article called Shall we dance: In defense of “snarky” reviews. Fellow panelist Wendy Perron, Editor-in-Chief of Dance Magazine responded with her own take on The Debate on Snark that challenges Johnson’s position.
Four DCA members add their thoughts to the issue at hand: Ali Duffy notes that snark gets in the way of a proper dance dialogue, Brian Schaefer suggests that snark does a disservice to a writer’s prose, Alastair Macaulay explains how sarcasm has a long, and important, role in the history of criticism, and Marcia Siegel points out that, from politics to emails, snark is all around us.
What do you think? Comment and join the conversation!
ALI DUFFY:
I think we need to go back to the fundamental question of what a critic should aim to articulate. Personally, I see my criticism as a way to dialogue with other viewers about what I saw and what the work communicated to me. From my perspective, there is no place for snark in criticism because it does not help choreographers make better dances nor does it encourage dancers to become better performers. In fact, it creates tension and insecurity for artists who already struggle to maintain relevance in our already dismissive society. It does not further the dance industry in any way. Snark demeans the value and strength of dance, diminishing its artistry entirely, and reducing dance criticism to gossipy tabloid fodder.
BRIAN SCHAEFER:
A writer that limps along with snark as a crutch does a disservice to dance and criticism by failing to do what I consider to be two of the most important things in criticism: write beautifully and care about the subject (by which I mean care about dance, not necessarily every artist or performance). A critic should take as much pride in her/his words as a choreographer does in her/his dance. Snark – as distinguished from wit or even biting insight because it leans toward the mean-spirited and tends to reveal the writer’s own ego – often trades in easy cliche and is a cheap tool for a writer. Regardless of whether a critic likes or dislikes a piece, if he or she cares fundamentally about elevating dance as a whole, then even a negative review can be respectful and illuminating in its honesty.
ALASTAIR MACAULAY:
The notion that sarcasm in criticism is on the rise can only be made by the historically ill-informed. Around 1699-1700 one London observer found the visiting French ballerina Marie-Thérèse Perdou de Subligny’s feet so irritatingly fast that he wished they were pinned to the ground. A few years later Daniel Defoe wrote a mock advertisement for a performance in aid of St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden, by the artists of Drury Lane Theatre, including the ballerina-actress Hester Santlow; he signed it “Hamlet, Prince of Denmark and Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, Churchwardens.” Perhaps it was not sarcastic of Nikolay Solyannikov, in his review of the premiere of “The Nutcracker” (1892), to say of the original Sugar Plum couple “Neither the corpulent, podgy Dell’ Era nor her bearded partner who had put on weight could produce model fairy-tale characters “; but his point may be of interest nonetheless to latterday readers.
The reviews of Bernard Shaw in the 1890s and Pauline Kael and Arlene Croce in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s abound with examples of sarcasm. (Shaw observed that after a week of listening to pianists, he liked to go to a dentist and have his teeth drilled by a steady hand. Kael wrote in 1980 of Isabelle Huppert “Right now, it you want to go the movies, she’s hard to avoid, though it’s worth the effort.” Croce began a 1974 review “On a desperate night in Stockholm, one can throw oneself into a canal or go to the Royal Swedish Ballet.”) In a 1979 Ballet Review, David Vaughan proposed that the Stuttgart Ballet should present “a production of an opera (any opera) with the singers on the stage and the dancers in the pit.”
Writing in “The Financial Times” in 1980, Clement Crisp – who already had more than twenty years’ experience as a critic – began a review of a Béjart triple bill (“The Firebird”, “Petrushka”, “The Rite of Spring”) with these words: “Béjart and Stravinsky is one of those fabled partnerships, like Romeo and Goneril, or bacon and strawberries.” In 1988, he wrote that in a new work of performance art the British group Second Stride “may be said to be ‘into’ world religion in the sense that a bull is ‘into’ a china shop.” The choreographer Matthew Bourne likes to quote two reviews by Clement Crisp from the early 1990s about Bourne’s own company (then named Adventures in Motion Pictures): in one now lost work, Crisp said the dancers resembled “the rugby team from Lesbos” and that in Bourne’s own “Highland Fling”the sylphs’ loose white costumes were like “manic dirty laundry”.
MARCIA SIEGEL
It’s all about language, when it isn’t about ill-temper. Certain critics are/were masters at delicious snarky conversations in the lobby—Dale Harris, Charles France—-but even they, I think, wouldn’t print those views in those words. I also don’t think public discourse has to resort to bitchy, sarcastic or insulting language—there’s always a civil —-and more interesting—way to vent one’s discontent.
I don’t feel the slightest impulse to “help choreographers make better dances . . [or] encourage dancers to become better performers” or soothe the artists’ “tension and insecurity,” to quote Ali Duffy. But I don’t have to spit out my first negative reactions either.
Snark is all around us, look at the political campaigns, “reality” show judges, and everyday email exchanges. We live in thoughtless times. Playing into the public’s blood lust is a particularly unattractive role for critics to play, I think.
