For much of my writing career, if it could be called a career, I have been a critic. To be more specific, I have been a critic of culture. Whether it be films, books, music, art or television, they have all been examined with a critical scalpel. That might come off as a bit pompous, but being a critic is the highest form of artistic hubris anyway.
Being a published writer of any kind requires an ornate amount of pride, since it requires the belief that your writing is worth being read. But to believe that your opinions on other forms of art are worthy of public consumption is on a whole different level. I know this, accept it and continue to do it anyway, either out of ego or some all-consuming need to analyze everything. Who knows?
But despite the inherently proud nature that goes with this kind of work, I believe there is a higher morality system to which it is bound. Criticism has to be valid, even if it is not always fair or balanced. It has to be well-informed and, most of all, it has to be honest. If it fails on these levels it can no longer be called criticism but instead only a personal attack or cheap promotion.
Journalistically, criticism is also in an interesting area. While it is presenting a subjective and informed opinion on a matter of public interest, it still has to be objective. Political columnists work along this same standard. You can’t develop a serious personal connection to the subject of criticism because your opinion will no longer be objective. I don’t accept gifts from artists that I’ve written about, nor do I accept free tickets or music, except as promotional material that I do not keep.
I often get the chance to see movies for free. But since I don’t pick the movies and see the good as well as the bad, it can be considered promotional material. If I liked the movie enough I’ll often go buy a ticket and see it again. I consider these kinds of things moral decisions and treat them as such whenever they come up.
A number of moral decisions appear every time I write a review. There is a lot of criticism floating around that fails the test of validity, and I try to keep that criticism from being my own. When I review something, I try to analyze it from a valid basis. For example, when “Gigli” came out last year, it was widely proclaimed one of the worst films in the year, decade, history of cinema, whatever. But most of that criticism was based on the fact that many critics hated Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez. An understandable bias to be sure, but still one that should have been left at the theater entrance.
While I never saw the film myself, I could never quite trust the reviews that blasted it mercilessly yet never quoted a single instance that described it as anything more than mediocre. They set impossibly high standards for what was never intended to be more than a run-of-the-mill star vehicle. While high standards are laudable, they should also be flexible. Holding your standards too high invalidates your criticism.
The personality of an artist is also not a valid area. By most accounts, many of the great artists in history have been total bastards. Ernest Hemingway was a drunkard, William Blake was a drug fiend and Salvador Dali was a complete S.O.B. But they were all great artists in their own way. Who they were as people is the subject of biographers, not critics.
One problem that recurs is the perception by many public relations folks that I am somehow a branch of their promotional machine. I am often treated as if it were my God-given duty to plug whatever upstart no-talent who happens to wander through town. As a rule, PR is not critical, hence it makes it difficult to plug something and take it seriously as art at the same time.
I have to be honest about my opinions, and I can’t do that if I’m trying to promote something uncritically. So I guess I wouldn’t be cut out for PR work, since the need to analyze is a bit too strong in me. It’s just my nature.