You’d Like Your Show Reviewed? $150 Please

June 5th, 2015 § 16 comments § permalink

Lemon‘You give us $150 dollars and we’ll review your show.’ It sounds like a bizarro-world version of ‘You give us 22 minutes, we’ll give you the world.’

But that is, boiled to its essence, what the Los Angeles theatre website Bitter Lemons has just proposed to the southern California theatre community. Citing the general reduction in theatre reviews both nationally and locally, the site has laid out a plan whereby theatres (or individuals) can pay $150 and be assured of a review of at least 300 words, but one which is wholly independent and will be solely the opinion of the site’s critics, not a pandering paean to whatever show or patron has ponied up the bucks.

While I’m prepared to take Bitter Lemons at their word about protecting the independence of their critics [full disclosure: I know one of their critics, Katie Buenneke, largely from Twitter], the optics of this proposal, as well as many practical elements, seem hugely problematic. The moment money changes hands between a producer (or producing organization) and a media outlet (be it vast or grass-roots), the necessary divide between both parties starts to break down. No matter how strong any “walls” may be, when editorial choices are determined by outside dollars, and when the economic viability of a media outlet may be dependent upon those covered, the opportunities for ethical compromise are rife.

Bitter Lemons became almost compulsory reading for me this year as the site was a central disseminator of information, inquiry and invective during the heated debate over Actors Equity Association’s promulgation of new guidelines for the 99 seat and under plan that had been used in Los Angeles over the past 25 years. In passionate and at times exhaustive detail, Bitter Lemons has been a champion of retaining the 99-seat plan as is, and I fully expect the site to continue to fight for that cause so long as supporters in the Los Angeles AEA community seek to make their case.

That’s why I bring up the optics: here is a theatre site, arguing for the right of union actors to work for notably less than AEA actors elsewhere in the country, that is saying their theatre coverage is dependent on being paid to cover that same community. To be sure, there are some apples to oranges issues in this comparison, but as I say, I’m referring simply to how it looks, not the particulars.

So let’s go to practical issues. “The Bitter Lemons Imperative,” as it’s called, suggests that it’s easy for companies to shoulder the expense. “Most producing companies already have it in their budgets, if they have any budget at all.” While I cannot be definitive, I strongly doubt that’s an accurate statement; I’m unfamiliar with any theatre company that has a budget line for reviews. What they may have, as the policy statement on Bitter Lemons sets out a bit further on, is “thousands of dollars for mailings, postcards, advertising, many companies even pay anywhere from $500 to $2k for a publicist.” But equating marketing with criticism is a comparison with which I suspect few critics would feel comfortable. When a company pays for an ad or a brochure, it explicitly controls the content; when it pays for a publicist, it’s engaging someone to work with the media, but in a manner where there’s no quid pro quo, explicit or implied.

I find myself wondering about where this plan might leave the very newest theatre companies in Los Angeles, which may have budgets so low that the $150 fee to Bitter Lemons is beyond thinly stretched means, and which are already providing (presumably) a pair of complimentary tickets as well, which have their own dollar value. Does this mean that they will go unnoticed by Bitter Lemons? I fear this will only reinforce an economic stratification insofar as the site’s coverage goes, where only companies with sufficient means become worthy of the site’s attention, instead of decisions being made according to editorial choices and interests. If Bitter Lemons learns of an intriguing show that doesn’t write a check, will that show in essence be the proverbial tree falling in an empty lemon grove?

There’s no question that theatre coverage, arts coverage and frankly all manner of paid journalism are under vast pressure right now (take note of an impending newswriters’ strike in Philadelphia or the new round of buyouts at The Denver Post). But those who have set out to offer independent arts coverage have done so by soliciting general support that isn’t tied to an editorial imperative (you pay us, we cover you). Their efforts are more akin to public radio and television campaigns; offhand I think of campaigns by The Arts Fuse in Boston and New York’s The Clyde Fitch Report. Ad sales, already in evidence on Bitter Lemons, are another revenue source; if the site incorporates as a not-for-profit (if it isn’t already), contributions may be further advantaged, particularly with foundations that support new media journalism and the arts, separately or together.

I’ll say again that I’ve found Bitter Lemons invaluable in my education about the 99 seat debate. I am also repeatedly on record as arguing on behalf of paying arts writers and reporters for their work and I applaud new models for sustaining them (and worry about others). But linking coverage to cash on the barrelhead smacks too much of payola, of pay for play, even if it’s out in the open. I think it can only serve to diminish the site’s credibility, and may well, in the long run, result in a diminished Bitter Lemons, which would be a shame. After all, can this model hold up if paying companies start receiving blistering pans, or simply indifference?

As someone who believes deeply in theatre and in theatre journalism, I have to say that if I had to choose where to allocate $150 in the Los Angeles theatre community right now, I’d probably use it to pay an actor before a critic. No bitterness intended or implied.

Update: June 5, 4:45 pm: In writing this post early this morning, I hadn’t yet seen a corollary piece by Colin Mitchell of Bitter Lemons about the early response to the Bitter Lemons Imperative. It reads, in part:

“On the eve of opening night for previews at the 2015 Hollywood Fringe Festival, Bitter Lemons has over 30 exclusive Bitter Lemons Reviews ordered and purchased – that’s right pre-purchased – and those top quality works of theater criticism will be rolling out over the next couple of weeks. . .

We offered a deeply discounted 50% off our regular price of $150 just because we love the Fringe community so much and understand how important it is for them to get quality coverage from a truly experienced, savvy, historian of the ephemeral arts, plus we saw this as the perfect opportunity to introduce the Los Angeles Theater Community to our new business model for theater criticism.”

Is this an arts journalism post or a post about Bitter Lemons’s own business acumen, one that that also essentially functions as a sales tool? The lines seems to be blurring very fast.

Update: June 6, 5:15 pm: In expressing my concerns about the “pay for review” practice at Bitter Lemons, I attempted to address the issue with respect for the site and and shared concern over the dire economic models for arts journalism. Some responded saying it should be given a chance, and time will tell. So now that I’ve seen one of the “paid for” reviews on the site, I want to share with you a bit of what one fringe production has gotten for their $150:

I don’t know about the rest of you people, but if someone pays me to write about them, I suck them off with such vigor that their ejaculate explodes into the back of my skull with such force that I feel like the bells of Notre Dame pounded by Quasimodo on a Keith Moon bender.

So, since I’m only in this for the money, and the bloodthirsty mercenary in me trumps any pretense of integrity and balance, the rest of what follows in this review of Scott Claus’ “Sin: A Pop Opera,” at the iconic Three Clubs bar—a review he or someone else associated with him paid for—will be a bunch of positive, compromised hokum.

Perhaps this is merely showing off in the wake of comments and blog posts about the new policy, or perhaps as Isaac Butler posited in his post “Startling Chutzpah In The 99-Seat Arena,” we’re all just being punked. But regardless of Bitter Lemons’s motivation and intent, I think they’re doing serious damage to their credibility. I would really urge all makers of theatre in Los Angeles to put their money back in their pockets and, if they paid by check, they might want to stop payment now.

Update: June 12, 6:00 pm: The American Theatre Critics Association has issued a statement regarding the Bitter Lemons review policy. It reads:

The American Theatre Critics’ Association, the only national organization of professional theater critics, is concerned with the model started by Bitter Lemons. While it does not guarantee a favorable review or allow theater companies to choose the reviewer, this pay-for-play arrangement creates a clear appearance of a conflict of interest. That appearance, even if spurious, undermines the crucial credibility of not only Bitter Lemons’ critics, but all critics.

Our profession has fought for decades to preserve the image of independence. When our work is put out for sale to those we cover, we are concerned not just for the criticism itself but for the bypassing of editorial judgment in deciding what to cover and what not to cover.

Additionally, Steven Leigh Morris, editor of Stage Raw, another significant Los Angeles theatre site, made the following statement to me regarding his site’s selection of critics in the wake of the Bitter Lemons Imperative:

It is Stage Raw’s policy that any  reviewer who has accepted remuneration from a theater as quid pro quo for a review of that theater is ineligible to write reviews for Stage Raw.
Also, last weekend, one of the 11 critics announced as participating in the Bitter Lemons pay for review plan, Travis Michael Holder, posted on Facebook that he would be withdrawing from it immediately. Because of the fluid protocols of quoting from Facebook posts, I have chosen not to cite him directly, but will say that he expressed the feeling that legitimate points had been raised about the Bitter Lemons plan that he had not previously considered. In fact, as I write, only eight critics now have bios listed on the Bitter Lemons Imperative website page, indicating additional defections.
Finally, some have suggested to me that people outside Los Angeles have taken the Bitter Lemons contretemps, and in part my writing about it, as an opportunity to generalize online negatively about the state of L.A. theatre. In chronicling this situation, my only intention was to bring to light an ethically questionable practice in arts coverage, not to cast any aspersions on the committed and diverse Los Angeles theatre community and its work.
Update, June 15, 12:15 pm: Over the weekend, the Los Angeles Times wrote about the new Bitter Lemons review policy, in an article entitled, “L.A. stage website causes a stir by asking theaters to buy reviews.” It quotes a flip flop from a professor of journalism on the matter:

Joe Saltzman, a professor of journalism and communications at USC, said that words such as “appalled” and “atrocity” flashed in his mind when he first heard what Bitter Lemons was up to.

Then he checked out the website, saw Mitchell’s explanations, and read some of the reviews.

On further reflection, Saltzman said, “I think it’s not that bad a deal. It’s a fascinating way to try to solve a very difficult problem I thought was unsolvable. They don’t have money to hire critics, so how else do they keep a pool of talented, freelance critics? As long as it’s transparent, as long as the audience isn’t being fooled, I don’t have a problem with it.

An article published this morning by the L.A. Weekly, “A New Scheme To Have Shows Pay $150 For A Review Will Hurt L.A. Theater” is by Steven Leigh Morris, editor of Stage Raw, who does not cite his own site’s policy regarding critics who work under the Bitter Lemons plan. But his summary of the problems with the plan are specific and concise:

Mitchell’s market-based initiative puts this all backwards: It places the primary relationship of the critic with the theater rather than the reader. It entails a contract by which the critic is paid by the theater to write something in public as an ostensibly neutral observer, while the theater is banking that the critic will entice audiences. Meanwhile, the critic becomes the servant of two masters — the theater-as-employer and the readers, who have a rightful expectation of candor. This is why traditional print media have always insisted on a separation between critics and the theaters they review.

Howard Sherman is the director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School for Drama.

 

When A Theatre Review Condescends

March 3rd, 2014 § 34 comments § permalink

Fact: America’s newspapers are locked in a struggle for survival, fighting for financial stability and relevance at a time when money and attention increasingly focuses on online and video outlets.

Fact: Philadelphia’s newspapers are locked in a singularly ugly battle for survival, because after several instances of ownership turnover in recent years, the Inquirer and Daily News are now owned by a partnership in which the partners are suing one another over control of the business.

Fact: While newsroom cuts are the norm at papers across the country, and arts positions are being lost everywhere, Philadelphia is the largest city in the country which does not have a full-time theatre critic on staff at its daily newspapers, despite an array of professional theatre production in the city and surrounding area.

I lay these items out as preface for consideration of a single theatre review (which I hope you’ll read in its entirety), Toby Zinman’s Inquirer critique of the Arden Theatre Company’s production of Water By The Spoonful by Quiara Alegría Hudes, the play which received the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. This review has been the subject of a great deal of online comment as a result of a blog post on a site called “Who Criticizes The Critic?” The essay itself is “Critical Case Study #1: A Brutal Lack of Investment,” written by a pseudonymous author identified only as “criticcrusader.”

Armando Batista and Amia Desanti in Water BY The Spoonful at Arden Theatre Company

Armando Batista & Maia Desanti in Water By The Spoonful at Arden Theatre Company (Photo: Mark Garvin)

As the blog post circulated on Twitter and Facebook this past week – though it and the review are from late January – I saw a range of responses, from many who applauded the critique and from some who took issue with its legitimacy because of the anonymity of the author. I initially chose not to share it on social media because I’m troubled by criticism, let alone attacks, by unnamed voices on the internet. But I kept returning to the original review, and the critique of it, repeatedly. Then, by coincidence, I saw Hudes’ The Happiest Song Plays Last over the weekend at Second Stage, which brought the review to mind yet again; Song is the final piece in a trilogy of which Spoonful is part two.

I feel compelled to weigh in on Zinman’s review not because I make a habit of critiquing critics, but because I think her piece repeatedly crosses professional boundaries, in terms of what theatre, and all of the arts, should hope for from those who are paid to critique them, especially by major media outlets, even wounded ones. I know I’m echoing “Critical Case Study #1,” but I hope a bit more dispassionately. Those who discount “criticcrusader” for writing under an alias can make no such charge at me.

For transparency: though I went to college in Philly, I haven’t worked professionally in the city in 30 years, save for moderating some talks at the Philadelphia Theatre Company and doing some site visits for The Pew Center for Arts & Heritage. I do not know Toby Zinman or her editor Rebecca Klock. I have never attended the Arden Theatre and so I did not see this production. I cannot recall having ever spoken with the company’s leaders, though it’s possible I did at some point in the past.

And so.

It seems that the least we can hope for from a critic, whether staff or freelance, whether well-compensated or paid the pittance that is the shameful norm for most freelancers, is an informed opinion. Since Spoonful has received one of the highest awards given in theatre, it is not unreasonable to expect a critic to have a basic knowledge of that pre-existing work before attending it. Zinman has a Ph.D. in theatre and has written several books on the subject; she also teaches English at Philadelphia’s School of the Arts. She is far from a novice. Yet of Water By The Spoonful, Zinman writes:

“I imagined it might be about the global water crisis:

Consider the recent chemical tainting of residential water in West Virginia. Consider the drought and raging wild fires in California. Consider that more than 1.2 billion people on earth now live without a reliable source of fresh water.”

Why is this in a review? Even if Zinman elected to remain wholly ignorant of the work, what is the relevance of her musings on the title? Our water crisis is a perfectly legitimate concern, but it has nothing to do with the play. Print space is limited in any paper, so why use precious column inches on an irrelevant topic? Her aside accounts for more than 10% of the word total of the review.

“This play is about a bunch of crack addicts who do awful things and are, with the exception of Hudes’ recurring character Elliot, utterly boring and unsympathetic characters.”

In only the second paragraph of the review, Zinman has dismissed several drug-addicted characters as unsympathetic, without making any effort to explain why. Are struggling drug addicts, in fiction or in life, merely to be written off for their failings? As a central element of the story, this deserves as least as much space as the world’s water problems.

“Presumably, part of the script’s interest for Philadelphia audiences would be the local place-references, but mentioning Jefferson Hospital doesn’t redeem the play for me.”

Sure, audience members at the Arden might experience the odd frisson over hearing the name of a place they know mentioned, but given the productions the play has received in other cities, its locale seems hardly central to its existence or any production. To suggest it is only produced in Philadelphia because of its Philadelphia ties is callously dismissive.

“Yazmin (Maia Desanti) is the sanctimonious rich white girl who is, in ways I couldn’t follow, Elliot’s cousin/romantic interest/best friend.”

Yazmin is very clearly a Latina character. Zinman’s definition of her as “white” involves judging her based solely on the skin tone of the actress playing the role, ignoring any context within the play. Does Zinman doubt that individuals of differing skin colors can be related?

As with any critic, Zinman has every right to dislike the play. She has every right to dislike the production. But the reader has the right to expect some level of rationale for each, or for that matter a distinction between the two. From the review, it is impossible to know the source of Zinman’s poor opinion, save for her calling out of two lines which we can infer she finds wanting, and her mention of a slow pace. She neglects any mention of the physical production. Reading the review gives me the impression that Zinman was annoyed by the whole experience of seeing this play, and made no effort to engage with the play on its own terms.

The Philadelphia theatre scene has increased enormously since my days as a Penn student, filled with theatres and options that didn’t exist 30 years ago. While I will be the first to say that critics have zero responsibility for promoting or selling work for theatres, I think, and I hope most critics would agree, that theatres are deserving of reviews and critiques that adhere to professional standards, regardless of the hardships of the professional outlets that publish them. In my estimation, this review by Zinman fails, but the failing is not hers alone. Did her editor ask her for clarification of her points or suggest excising the extraneous? While presumably copy editors aren’t acting as fact checkers, the erroneous assertion about a character’s race could have been easily clarified by numerous online sources, let alone the readily available script.

As a blogger, I have no editor, no copy editor, no fact checker. I am solely responsible for the accuracy of what I write, and my integrity rests on that. At a professional newspaper, there are ostensibly more checks and balances, but – in my opinion – they failed in this case, in a way that no mere correction can erase or excuse. It calls into serious question the accuracy and validity of this critic’s voice in this case; I do not believe that this is emblematic of the state of theatre criticism nationally, which I value as an arts professional. But The Arden and its production, as well as Hudes’s play, deserve better than they got in terms of fair consideration of their work, regardless of whether the show was liked or not.

On a final note: this review follows on the heels of a very thoughtful piece on the role of a theatre critic by another freelance Inquirer critic, Wendy Rosenfield, writing for the Broad Street Review, in which she speaks of her support for “Theater that widens and deepens the scope of our regional scene.” I applaud that sentiment, but would like to paraphrase it, because Philadelphia – and all communities – deserve journalism that widens and deepens the scope of the city’s arts scene too. The two go hand in hand.

Update March 4, 11:30 am: As this post has circulated online, Jason Zinoman of The New York Times expressed his feelings that if I claim to be someone who believes in mutual respect between arts organizations and arts critics, I had failed to demonstrate it in this piece, by not sufficiently disavowing the tone, language and certain sentiments employed by the anonymous “criticcrusader.” It was my intention that the tone and content of my piece represented my approach to such dialogue, but I was indeed not explicit. Should anyone doubt my commitment to mutually respectful dialogue, let me make clear that the piece by “criticcrusader” was harsh, hyperbolic and unnecessarily personal, hardly the tone to be adopted when attempting to lobby for more considered and accurate writing; the anonymity is counterproductive as well. The thoughts in my piece, which may overlap with the earlier essay, are my own and I stand by them; however, to have not acknowledged what prompted me to write would have been dishonest.

 

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