Television criticism needs a punk rock movement.
Normally, I’m an expert in burying my own lede. But since what follows will concern a radical rethinking of the way that criticism is currently performed online, I figured I would practice what I preach. I’ve been coming at this thesis for some time now, and while I’m not remotely convinced I’ve nailed the specifics of how I think this should be achieved, I do think I’ve reached a point in which I can share this with everyone at this time. This isn’t the start and end of this conversation. This is only the beginning of it.
So, what does that oh so catchy first sentence actually MEAN? I need to define my terms before actually getting into the guts of this thing. Let’s state up front that the bloated enemy that needs taking down doesn’t take the form of certain individuals practicing criticism at this time. I hold many critics in my state of regards, but don’t attempt to try and tease out anything below as directed at a specific person. If anything, the punk rock movement I want to describe opens up space, rather than closes any down. This isn’t about attacking television critics. This is about driving a sword into the heart of criticism and seeing where the entrails fall.
The notion of what online criticism really is has swirled about since the now infamous Slate article by Josh Levin that chronicled the rise of Alan Sepinwall’s status once he directed his energies online. That turned into a “Firewall and Iceberg” podcast about the article, which turned into a “Talking TV with Ryan and Ryan” podcast in which myself and Mo Ryan were joined by Noel Murray and Myles McNutt, and all of us went into the navel-gazing rabbit hole without really having any concrete answers once we hit the ground. But what’s been clear to me in the wake of all this “controversy” (in quotes because Jesus Christ, this is the mother of all first-world problems, no?) is that no one can really agree upon what constitutes actual criticism. And while this seems like largely a semantic problem, it’s actually one that is creating a white noise that threatens to engulf any possibility of intelligent discourse online.
So what’s really happened as a result of the trends established by Sepinwall and others mentioned in that article? People have glommed onto a few key figures and/or models, and simply reproduced that as best they can. I am as guilty of this as anyone, and don’t for a single second pretend like I’m outside this issue. The whole point of writing this in the first place is to try and push myself out of these models that I once adored and have internalized so successfully that doing anything else but a pale version of the original is damn close to impossible. As brilliant as Alan is at what he does, here’s a news bulletin to which even he might subscribe: his is not the only way to do it. But here’s the real question at hand, and one that needs to be asked in order for any type of movement to arise in the field of television criticism: Why should anyone WANT to do it Alan’s way?
Or, to rephrase: why copycat off an existing, albeit successful, template when that space is for all intents and purposes taken? Recently, the videogame “Battlefield 3” sought to take on the “Call of Duty” goliath directly, rather than define itself in the marketplace as doing something different from, not better than, the current gold standard. There’s more than enough room to do interesting things without all trying to fit into one small sliver of virtual real estate. It’s far too easy to simply copy what’s come before. It’s far more difficult, but equally important, to identity what’s absent and then fill that space.
There’s little time to really play with form when you write about 8 shows a week for sites with rigid editorial standards, however. And those standards generally demand a review of each episode. It’s a tidy slice for a writer to analyze and also a consistent stream of content for websites. I’m not here to try and tear down the infrastructure of such sites: they work well enough, but again: THIS ISN’T THE ONLY WAY THIS CAN BE DONE. And the work needed to break out of this isn’t going to happen on TWOP or The A.V. Club, but somewhere in the fringes, where people have the ability to produce criticism even if they don’t know how to do so. And hell, producing something without the pre-knowledge of how to actually do it is pretty punk rock.
As a way of trying to kick start this movement, let me offer a few ways in which the currently landscape is lacking, holes that need to be filled, and ways to encourage more people to actually pick up the practice and forge new paths.
1) Write only when you feel the need to write.
This to me is the granddaddy of them all. I’m typing all this up after a weekend in which I’ve produced four other reviews already. I’ve got a horrible cold that won’t let up. But there was no way I was going to bed tonight without publishing this. If you aren’t wildly typing for the majority of your writing session, then you’re probably writing about the wrong things. Passion comes through onscreen, and it’s very easy to tell when someone is going through the motions. I read every one of Mo Ryan’s “Supernatural” articles, and I don’t even watch the show. Why do I read them? Because I can hear how much she gives a shit about that show, how much it means to her, and that it turn makes me want to read every word. All of my favorite authors are the same way: their passion for their subjects is infectious.
The specifics of what you write about will inevitably improve over time. Craft comes with practice. Craft is a teachable element. Passion is not. If you’re just writing about “Breaking Bad” because you want to join the chorus of people falling over themselves to praise it, that’s not going to add anything to the discussion. (And just shitting on it because you think it will make you stand out is also beyond stupid. If you dislike it, make your case. But being contrarian for contrarian sake won’t help anyone.) If you have true passion for it, fine. But don’t write about shows because everyone else does, and don’t write about them on a weekly basis unless you really, really have something to say. Newsflash: most shows don’t have enough to talk about, and most people don’t have enough to say about them. Less can be more, especially when it’s passionately written.
2) All criticism should be subjective, personal, and unique.
Fuck objectivity when it comes to criticism. Seriously. There’s a difference in being able to look at a piece of television objectively and writing about it as such. Instead of hiding personal biases, opinions, and history, these should be part of the critical process. In order to differentiate yourself from other critics, readers should be able to feel that whatever they read from you comes from a place of truth. Whether or not they agree with your assessment is largely irrelevant, and out of your control. But the authenticity of the piece is something you can absolutely control. Owning up to one’s shortcomings is just another way of providing context to the review. Above all, people should be able to identify a piece by you with the byline removed. By letting yourself into the piece, you’re giving yourself a voice online. Trying to be “objective” will only make you sound like everyone else. And who wants that?
3) Kill the form before the form kills criticism.
Honestly, how much longer can we all just produce 1000-3000* word pieces about individual episodes on a weekly basis? We all do it, because that’s what everyone else does, and so we flood the market with similar stuff and hope ours gets read. But at some point, this model isn’t sustainable, either for writers or readers. It just turns into content to which ads can get attached adjacent to people pointing out typos. We’ve saturated the market to the point of breaking, without any real innovation in form. Why? Again, because producing weekly reviews/recaps is the easiest way to organize and produce content. That’s not a slam on sites looking to make money. And Lord knows I’ve taken plenty of money from that format. (Well, “plenty” being a relative term in the world of online writing.) But there’s got to me more to it.
* Range included to incorporate the existence of Myles McNutt.
Some ways this could potentially be achieved:
- Stepping back from the Bataan death march of weekly reviews seems like the first and easiest step. If you aren’t in a contractual position not to do them…then don’t fucking do them. Everyone else already has this market locked down. Stand out. Do something else. Do a monthly check in. Rotate your show attention each week and draw out parallels/trends.
- Podcasts and vodcasts are an untapped market at this point in time for criticism. Mo and I haven’t remotely scratched the surface of what can be done there.
- I think there’s a strong market for collaborative written criticism, which not only removes the inherent isolation of writing but also provides new dynamics and multiple perspectives for readers.
- Collaboration between the printed word and the visual image seems like a pretty interesting way to succinctly and powerfully convey points in a way that a 1,500 word review would not.
- Why the hell is there not an “At The Movies”-type show about television yet? Some industrious types with time, energy, technical know how, and critical skills will make this and probably make a mint.
And that’s just a few ways in which you can do criticism, but in a space that’s not already overrun, overcrowded, and quite frankly, on the way to extinction anyways. Lead the pack now. You’ll thank me later.
4) “Niche” is the new “mass market”.
This is the last takeaway here. The last thing you want to do is create work that will try and appeal to everyone. If you do that, you’ll be the “Terra Nova” of television criticism. And trust me, you DO NOT want to be the “Terra Nova” of television criticism. That way lies shame and cock-blocking dinosaurs. It ain’t pretty.
Instead, use Suggestion 1 above and either write what you know, write what you love, or ideally, some combination of both. Don’t be afraid that others won’t find you. At first, they won’t. But you have to write every single thing you put forth as if it will be read by the most important people possible. For some, that would be the editor of a magazine. For others, a scholar in their field. For others, someone who is as big a “Stargate: Atlantis” fan as he/she is. Write irrespective of mass audience: such a thing doesn’t exist anymore, anyways. And without 40-50 people at your beck and call to cover all the bases, it’s best to cover that which inspires you the most. Cultivating a collective that shares the same passions (if not opinions) as you will be the future here. After all, criticism isn’t about arriving at the right answer. It’s about arriving at unique, interesting insights. And we can’t achieve that if everyone is writing in the same way about the same things. Trust your instincts, trust your taste, and go from there. Sure, more people will go to the supermarket than Whole Foods. But people who go to Whole Foods…dude, they love themselves some Whole Foods. That’s the type of reader you want. You know, sans the hipster attitude. Unless that’s your thing. Which is totally OK if so!
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In the end, this isn’t about tearing down existing structures within television criticism. It’s about getting outside of them and exploring new options in order to keep its overall vitality in check. Simply replacing the existing model with a newer, brasher one won’t sustain criticism anymore than maintaining the status quo will. Soon enough, the television criticism equivalent of The Knack will come along, and all readers will crave will be 800-word recaps of “My Sherona.” And man, will THAT ever suck. But hopefully, we won’t have to come to that, especially if television criticism gets the punk rock movement it deserves, and frankly, desperately needs.
Thoughts? Questions? Mohawks? Leave ‘em below!