One could say the same of reviewers in newspapers. I should know -- I am one.
I'd like to think my bitching always has been fair and just. Just as those teachers have an obligation to keep their pupils' parents happy, artists must entertain me, singing and dancing as I see fit like so many fleshy marionettes, schmoozing with me at galas and flirting with me and/or my date.
Otherwise they get panned.
This policy always seemed reasonable. Until now. Now, I'm starting to take the reviewer's role more seriously, because I'm on the other side of the proverbial proscenium -- acting in Company Carolina's current production of "Arcadia." I play the role of Valentine Coverly, an English mathematician.
Monday, this paper reviewed the show (positively, my director would have you know). My involvement with the play allowed me new levels of insight into the reviewing process and what's lacking in many theater reviews.
Namely: eagle-eyed criticism of the performances of non-human participants. Case in point: my show.
Although actors are usually easy, it's not easy to act. Perhaps you've read about "actors' instincts." These visceral compulsions lead actors, in performance, to innovate and do things they've never done in rehearsals.
In Friday's show, for instance, I kissed my character's live pet box turtle Lightning, played by Chapel Hill's own Red the Turtle, full on the beak. This was an impromptu flourish, like when the great Harrison Ford, as Indiana Jones, scornfully shot the enemy swordsman in "Raiders of the Lost Ark."
Also, the kiss proved deeply satisfying in a way I simply can't articulate.