Critics should help, not hinder

BY KAREN ABRAVANEL

My high school's concert band had seven saxophones, three trumpets, and no rhythm. Once or twice a semester, we had shorter classes all day to allow a 45-minute concert in the morning. By senior year, I had learned that these 45 minutes were better spent sipping mochas in downtown Portland coffee shops, but junior year I still sat faithfully through every concert. "The band is even worse than last time," we would say afterward in journalism class, as we wondered how to write a review of the concert.

"Perhaps," my journalism advisor would say. "But you will not tell that to your readers." He would explain that we couldn't expect professional quality, the members of the band were still learning, and that the assembly gave them a chance to experiment with their talent. As a fellow student organization, the newspaper ought to encourage rather than criticize.

I saw a play on campus last weekend that I thought was superb. Many people must have agreed, because the show sold out every performance. Like all student productions at Yale, it was amateur not in quality, but in reward. The only compensation for those involved was experience and personal satisfaction. These productions seem incredible feats when one remembers that they are run entirely by students, who have full class schedules offstage.

The reviews in both of Yale's major newspapers contained no recognition of this accomplishment. The reviewers are entitled to their own tastes, and I do not expect everyone to like the same plays, but they went beyond offering their opinions. Instead, they wrongfully held the production to a professional standard, and used this standard to rip it apart. In addition, they offered few specific suggestions for future improvement. The one-sentence comments about particular actors were mostly negative and did little to encourage those involved to keep auditioning.

The reviews were well-written. They utilized interesting concepts and language, had well-developed themes, and proved the skill of their writers. They championed the journalistic freedom to express one's true opinions. And perhaps a bad review is more fun to write than a good one, and bad ones are usually more fun to read (at least for those not involved in the production). In defense of the reviews, one might argue that truth is the supreme goal of journalism, even when it hurts. Like Yale's student productions, Yale's student publications offer wonderful-hands on experience in a professional-like setting. Yale's student journalists are learning to seek the truth, and learning to express it in the written word. But sometimes, the truth is more hurtful than it is worth.

In our search for truth in high school, we never lied about the band's performance. We never claimed that any member was the next Wynton Marsalis, or urged the band to seek an audience in Carnegie Hall.. Instead, we selected our truth. We wrote enough to tell the story, to nourish an audience, to compliment the members' hard work and encourage their future efforts. We wrote what the band members would be proud to read, 10 or 20 years down the road, when the last notes had long faded into memory.

As Yale's aspiring journalists experiment with their own talent, they must not forget that they are dealing with fellow students. A theater review completes the experience of a production. An understanding review, which compliments more than criticizes, and encourages rather than dissuades, should complete the experience of a student production. We are all here to learn.

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