Opera legend Samuel Ramey “had no idea it would cause such a discussion” when he left a comment on a Dallas Morning News review of the Metropolitan Opera’s premiere of Verdi’s Attila. Critic Scott Cantrell summed up the 2010 production in some of the kinder terms, writing: “The opera can be salvaged, sort of, by great singers, and by a director with real imagination. At the Met, it has, well, one of the former.”
It was in response to this comment, however, that Ramey (a former Attila himself who appeared in the small role of this particular production as Pope Leone) wrote in the comments: “It is unfortunate that for the Met’s first production of Attila they could not do a more ‘conventional’ production. The sets and the costumes had nothing to do with the period of the opera or the characters. I know from having been at rehearsals that the director gave the singers nothing and the set prevented them from doing anything dramatically. The production is a fiasco!”
Ramey’s defense of the critic—at the expense of his employer—was one thing, but what’s more common (especially in the age of Facebook and Twitter) is the reverse situation. Websites like Gawker delight in such PR train wrecks as the case of author Alice Hoffman, who rallied her Twitter followers against Boston Globe reviewer Roberta Silman, who gave a mixed review to Hoffman’s The Story Sisters. Hoffman went beyond mild invective: “Now any idiot can be a critic. Writers used to review writers. My second novel was reviewed by Ann Tyler. So who is Roberta Silman?” was one salvo, along with “Roberta Silman in the Boston Globe is a moron. How do some people get to review books? And give the plot away.” Hoffman also posted Silman’s home phone number and e-mail address, urging her followers to harass the reviewer on a 24-hour cycle. Following which, Hoffman deleted her Twitter account and issued an apology that was universally dubbed to be “half-hearted.”
Ironically, Hoffman herself has reviewed books. And one of her tomes was literally riddled with bullets following a “nasty” review Hoffman wrote of Richard Ford’s The Sportswriter. Hoffman’s book, shot through by both Ford and his wife, was mailed to its author.
Theater isn’t immune to the back and forth between artist and critic, either. The New York Post’s critic and columnist Michael Riedel was punched in the face at the Angus McIndoe restaurant in 2004 by director David Leveaux, after Riedel called Leveaux’s production of Fiddler on the Roof “de-jewed.” Last year, playwright-lyricist-composer Stew, who won the 2008 Tony Award for penning the book to Passing Strange, wrote in his blog (stewsez.artlung.com) a line-by-line vivisection of a New York Times review, beginning bluntly with a note to the reviewer: “Despite the fact that you work for the nytimes your review was full of [crap].”
Leveaux still works on Broadway—his revival of Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia recently ran—though “Fiddler” was his last musical. Stew’s reputation suffered no tarnish, even with a mixed bag of comments replying to his meta review-of-a-review.
“He’s famously been known for being a little anti-establishment, so it’s kind of a character [trait] for him to do this,” says composer (and former critic) Daniel Felsenfeld of Stew. “I don’t think it’s going to besmirch his reputation; I think it’s gonna enhance it.
“But it has to be a part of your reputation, and you have to be prepared for the blowback,” Felsenfeld adds.
The problem is, with websites like Twitter and Facebook offering instantaneous publication, many reviews (be they by a Times critic or a random concertgoer with a blogspot address) now not only allow but even solicit comments, and journalists are readily accessible beyond these platforms—creating the opportunity for artists and critics to interact. And, as seen in the examples above, such interaction does not always prove productive.
At Parterre.com, which in the last 18 months has expanded to include reviews of recordings and performances from members of the website’s so-called “cher public,” a review written last May opined that a concert by the New York Metro Vocal Arts Ensemble “fell lower than my lowest expectations.” Over nine paragraphs, the critic ultimately questioned the company’s ticket prices as being representative of the product (or performance) turned out. It was, to be sure, harsh, but the opinion was valid. The first comment, perhaps unsurprising, was from a member of the production team who issued their own four-paragraph response to the review. Like Ramey, this comment garnered more discussion than the reviewer’s initial write-up.
Even with a bad review, however, there is still something to be said for the old Tallulah Bankhead quip, “I don’t care what they say as long as they talk about me.” That’s especially true in an age where print is shrinking and digital media is becoming more and more saturated.
“We all know the landscape for coverage has changed, but many haven’t considered the impact on negative reviews—in that there are fewer of them,” says New York publicist Sarah Baird Knight. “When it comes to blogs, writers typically have a greater amount of autonomy over what they cover than ever before, and they often won’t bother to cover something (especially an album) unless they believe in it. And with less space for coverage in print outlets, it’s important to realize that, if you are being reviewed at all, your work has already been chosen over a staggeringly large number of other events.”
“It hurts to get a bad review, it really does,” adds Felsenfeld. Yet for the occasional press pan that both Baird Knight’s clients and Felsenfeld have received, all agree the best way to handle the situation is to remain mum. Felsenfeld has an intimate circle of friends and family to whom he feels comfortable complaining for a short period of time, though never in writing and usually via phone. He hasn’t forgotten the three-page fax he received from an early mixed review he gave to a performance.
You could be like Stew, Leveaux, or Marcelo Álvarez, who has gone on record to say that blogs are “the real cancer of our opera world” (which, while not reflective directly on Álvarez’s relationship with the bloggerati, has not done much to help him win friends or influence people). But why expend all of that energy? “You’re either going to address it on a really professional level, or you’re going to just go full-guns public takedown,” says Felsenfeld of responding to a review, before cautioning that “If you have a choice between responding and not responding, you probably shouldn’t respond.”
“If you are tempted to respond publicly on social media [to an unfavorable or especially negative review], first write it out or talk it through with your publicist, manager, or mentor,” suggests Baird Knight. “Let it sit for a couple of days and think about the impact you want to have. What do you want to be known for? Do you want to be known as a writer and thinker on musical matters? If so, do you feel you can write a receptive, intelligent, undramatic response? Even so, do you want people to remember you primarily for the music you have made or for controversy around a specific negative review?”
Chances are, unless your name is Lang Lang or Madonna—at which point, Felsenfeld says, “say whatever the hell you want”—you may not garner much attention for any controversy you create around a review. No other news outlet picked up on the responses to the negative review on Parterre. But such responses are remembered by the critic writing the reviews—and they get passed on silently among colleagues. From a personal standpoint, I even had one singer publicly object to a positive review I gave them. Their name is now known by many New York journalists, though not in the way a good review usually entails.
No one likes to read a “poor me” column, but as Felsenfeld points out, “Critics are people, and I’m going to have tremendous sympathy for them because they’re under incredible deadline pressure, are at the mercy of editors, and don’t always get to be as thorough.” Like singers, many critics balance several jobs—either related, such as Steve Smith who is both a reviewer for the New York Times and music editor at Time Out New York, or varied, like James Jorden who runs Parterre.com and reviews for the New York Post while also working a day job.
That doesn’t excuse the work any more than a singer temping on Wall Street by day and singing Richard Strauss by night would use a bad market day to write off a shaky upper register. However, most critics are working to beat the clock after a long night (or afternoon) in the concert hall. “Everyone has a deadline and pressures,” says Felsenfeld. And for many critics, taking a look back at past works is an exercise in “shoulda, woulda, coulda.”
“My first piece of published criticism, in 1992, was a takedown of John Corigliano’s opera The Ghosts of Versailles. I now think it’s a vibrant and inventive work,” the New Yorker’s music critic Alex Ross said to NPR when asked if he had ever changed his mind about a piece of music he covered. Whether it’s the heat of the moment or simply the evolution of tastes, many is the time that critics often feel differently about their reviews hours, days, weeks, or years after they’ve been printed. Does it take away the sting of being on the receiving end of a takedown, however benign it may be? Definitely not. But it should serve as a reminder that most critics (the good ones, at least) don’t hold a single bad performance against a musician, but nonetheless have to represent what they may have—or may not have—seen.
Incorrect reviews are another thing entirely, and mistakes occur just as often with journalists as they do with performers. “It is appropriate to write—or better, bring it to the attention of your publicist or manager to write—a very short note citing the error and providing the correct information. Journalists get hundreds of emails a day, so keep it brief [and] unemotional, and be gracious,” suggests Baird Knight, adding that it is also appropriate to thank the journalist or editor once a correction has been appended.
Take solace, too, in the fact that many bad reviews are now left on the proverbial cutting room floor. Spatial constrictions aside, many critics feel it unproductive to give a certain number of words over to a production—particularly ones that are one-off concerts or not happening at any of the major houses in New York or beyond—that misses the mark. But when it does happen, it’s also a chance to grow as an artist and get some valuable feedback from a dispassionate yet knowledgeable third party. And that third party is human.
“It’s important for critics to remember that they’re talking to people—but it’s also important for artists to remember that they’re talking to people,” says Felsenfeld. “And in this age where this can get a little hyperpixelated, I think it’s important that people are dealing with people on a human level, no matter which side of the fence they’re on.”
