Theater criticism - Donald R. Pocock

After reading Zach Everson's review of the first set of Studio Series productions ("Studio series kicks off semester with student directed ring plays", Feb. 13), I was disappointed at the character and quality of the criticism. Obviously, as one of the directors being judged I was sorry to read that Everson didn't enjoy the productions. That's OK, really, I wouldn't expect everyone to like it. I don't have any quarrel with his opinion, but the article failed to express clearly his grounds for his position.

It seems pretty obvious to me that Everson doesn't have much of a background in the theater since he doesn't even know the significance of who Harold Pinter is.

A student and near contemporary of Samuel Beckett, Pinter is one of the most revolutionary playwrights the British theater has produced in the 20th century. Far from the pomp and spectacle of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, Harold Pinter has been at the forefront of British experimental theater since 1960, the year The Dumb Waiter was released.

Pinter's plays show his fascination with basic human relationships and the terror that can be found looming the landscape of seemingly harmless locales. Pinter places man inside a room, plays with his patience and logic, and upsets what semblance of balance may be hoped to exist. He does so through carefully escalated tension and juxtaposition of elements. Ben and Gus are opposites forced together in a restricted situation awaiting the arrival of an unknown. Ben's logical professionalism counters Gus' childish innocence. Gus, who cannot simply dismiss anything, forces Ben to confront the reality of their horrific profession by posing question after question linked to their job. Ben is faced with the gripping reality of who he is, and he hates it so much that he avoids any and all discussion.

The play is an intensely structured exposé of a deceptively simple situation which turns on itself in a startling conclusion. I am sorry Everson did not gain that from our production, but since much of his review was little more than a Cliff Notes version of the plot, I don't know if he really thought about the implications of what he saw.

For example, while there is a dumbwaiter in the play, but the title is The Dumb Waiter suggesting that Pinter was not referring simply to an inanimate object but to a quiet waiter or an "unintelligent delivery person." Everson attacked the play on the basis of the text, something which should anger any educated person of the theater who recognizes the significance of Pinter's work.

Theater criticism should judge a performance on the merits or shortcomings of that particular performance. You can't blame the script -- it is not at fault. You also cannot call plot summary proper criticism. It draws no conclusions and makes no assertions. In that Everson is the Arts and Entertainment editor, I certainly expect more as a reader of the OG&B.

Rather, it seems that Everson begged the question of criticism in order to show his own limited knowledge of one of the modern theater's greatest works.

Most of the people I know who are familiar with the show react to him as a likable however childish guy who struggles to understand himself.

Likewise, I cannot hope that Ben killed Gus in the end, because to do so would be to admit that Ben truly hated his own partner, which I cannot see to be the case.

Furthermore, if Everson was disappointed at the overhead lighting, where, perhaps, would he have set the lights? In the audience? From the floor? I sincerely hope that the OG&B will take more care and thought in later reviews of university theater productions.

Donald R. Pocock


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