'Times' critic-at-large Frank Rich castigates his own

As many a disillusioned fan knows, writing talent does not always translate into speaking talent. Frank Rich, however, is unlikely to have disappointed his readers when he spoke on Thurs., Feb. 8 at a Morse Master's Tea and a lecture in the Yale Art Gallery auditorium. The New York Times op-ed columnist and former drama critic was just as articulate as his reviews, editorials, and recent memoirs, Ghost Light, would suggest. Addressing topics such as journalism, politics, and theater, Rich delivered a wealth of insights, anecdotes, and knowledge in a wittily direct style. The most apt words to describe his talks might be the very adjectives that make up his name.

ERIN I. LEWIS/YH The career-switching Frank Rich urges journalists and actors to keep their careers straight (and separate).

Rich, who grew up in Washington, D.C. before attending Harvard, has had a distinguished career in diverse sectors of journalism. From 1980 to 1993, as the chief drama critic for The Times, his sometimes brutal reviews earned him the title of "the butcher of Broadway." His move from drama critic to op-ed columnist, unprecedented at The Times, occurred because "I was getting bored with the job. I had said what I had to say about the major players." After reviewing six David Mamet plays, for example, "what is there to say except this is better or worse than the one before?" A craving for a "much broader canvas," in conjunction with The Times' encouragement and flexibility, led to the shift to his biweekly column.

Yet Rich's experience and sensibilities as a theater critic have clearly lingered, informing his political savvy. The theme of Rich' s lecture was the "24-7 info-tainment" known as the news media, which has "come a long way from the glamorous and altruistic image of All the President's Men." The confluence of news and entertainment has come about in two ways: not only is one nearly indistinguishable from the other, but they have literally merged as businesses. These huge media conglomerates, such as Disney, which owns ABC, and Paramount, which owns CBS, are designed to make profits. Consequently, "values change. Everyone wants to be first, not necessarily right." The press is not primarily "pro-Gore or pro-Bush, but pro-money and pro-drama." Perhaps it's the drama critic in him, but Rich argues that both the media and politicians have borrowed techniques from show-biz. And anyone with access to a television can see that he's not just wearing drama-colored glasses.

Rich uses the word "mediathon" to describe the spectacles that are always only a power-button click away. He dates its inception to the Gulf War, when the networks realized that "you could take a war and turn it into a miniseries." In this "amalgam of entertainment and news," the theme was "all calamity, all the time." The next step was the O.J. trial, when the media realized it "didn't need a war or special effects." Virtually nothing was happening, yet people were glued to the screen. Then, with Princess Diana' s death, there was "literally no news." But that didn't stop the networks from covering the story—they simply realized that "you could add elements of fiction and get away with it. Diana somehow morphed into Mother Theresa, until the real Mother Theresa died, and they had to go to India and pretend they were as interested in her." In the case of the Monica Lewinsky scandal, an "entirely fictional character was created for her from a few facts completely wrenched out of context." When not in the midst of one of these mediathons, the networks can dependably "bring back the stars of old mediathons." Or there's always a dose of Reality TV to pacify us between scandals. Rich posits Survivor as a sort of substitute for impeachment to feed our newborn appetite after the real thing was over. To add to the postmodern layers of self-reflexivity, these reality shows are covered on news stations as if they were real news stories.

Rich realizes that public opinion places today's journalists "somewhere between used car dealers and politicians" in terms of their popularity, and he no doubt shares this cynicism about his colleagues. But on a positive note, he believes that all the hype may have little effect in the end, and that "if we had more news of importance, the public would not stand for this frothy brew." He calls for a "return to spontaneity" among politicians, and advises those interested in celebrity and acting "to pursue the relevant careers." In other words, he may have been able to build a career on both drama and politics, but politicians should stop doing so.

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