I'm excited for 2008 and the surely great things it will bring.
I'd like to continue on the subject of criticism for a moment, though in a different direction than we've been heading. I'm finishing up Carl Wilson's new book for the 33 1/3 series, Let's Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste. It's a keenly observed and well-researched investigation of why we like the things we like (through the lens of an avant music critic trying to give Celine Dion actually serious attention) and includes a lot of pointed (sometimes scathing, sometimes self-deprecating) critiques of the state of criticism. He also articulates in a disarming way a lot of things that I think are real personal problems in our culture (disinterest in excitement, the meat-grinder approach to new music or art or anything, which disables deep listening and is indicative of or perpetuates deeper issues). Here's a passage from near the end of the book where he is trying to reconcile his distaste for Celine with his feelings:
"The very greatest art may ball all the shit and nonshit of existence together, the way it comes in life, but on the less exalted tiers, why must art that focuses mainly on what (Robert C.) Solomon calls "the tender emotions" take a back seat to art that focuses mainly on the harsh ones? The hierarchies of antisentimentalism seem to end in a perverse reversal of values...
It's often assumed that audiences for schmaltz are somehow stunted, using sentimental art as a kind of emotional crutch. As Solomon points out, there's no evidence for this slur: isn't it equally plausible that people uncomfortable with representations of vulnerability and tenderness have emotional problems? Sentimental art can be a rehearsal, a workout to keep emotions toned and ready for use. This doesn't dictate that those uses will be appropriate ones, and emotions alone are not solutions to issues, but sympathy and compassion are prerequisites to charity and solidarity. So between the sentimentalist and the antisentimentalist, who is the real emotional cripple?"
A little harsh out of context, but he makes some damn good points and I think its makes perfect sense with what we're trying to investigate here. Is it natural to become "disinterested" when we feel that certain sort of pleasure, that "good feeling," that tickle in our tear ducts? Could it be that Finding Neverland is actually a good movie, but my shame at letting it manipulate me into feeling made me tear it apart? (Probably not, actually). It is possible, to play the devil's advocate, that all the sappy gooey good-feeling-ness isn't actually pleasurable, but something people put themselves through out of guilt. Further, I believe there is a lot of "sentimental art" whose vulnerability and tenderness is not actually honest. It is overwrought, indulgent, manipulative even and we let ourselves be fooled. There are those of us who, out of humiliation of being fooled one too many times or perhaps a particularly bad burn or perhaps because everyone else is doing it, will shut it down, cross our arms and refuse to let ourselves or our emotions be taken advantage of. Or we look at it ironically, or cynically. Or we take the piss out of it, as it were. I think this is dangerous. Sometimes it can be so wonderful to just have something...nice.
There is a faction of bands making waves (with me and my heartstrings at least) who are really good at making really nice music, full of tenderness and vulnerability. Midlake is good at it. Grizzly Bear is great at it. Final Fantasy is so good at it, his show at the Bowery Ballroom in November was the catalyst for starting this blog. The music is pure and honest and not schmaltz in the least. If it takes a darker turn, or becomes more aggressive, it is through the artists exploration of their own goodness that it does so. It is not indulgent. It's a gift.
more later.
Happy New Year.
mark.
2 comments:
I think the difference between the schmaltz of Celine Dion and the genuine emotions of Final Fantasy (you saw him live!? Jealous!) is that the former is attempting to elicit emotions from her audience whereas the latter is simply having and sharing his emotions. I may very well shed some tears because someone is poking me in the eye, but I certainly won't enjoy it. Whereas music that is personal, that is shared with an audience instead of meant to pander to it engages my empathy. And that, I think is when the "emotional workout" happens. Good music, or theatre, or art asks us to step out of ourselves and see the world from a new perspective. Schmaltz just tells us what we "should be feeling".
Speaking of empathy, Iowa republicans just don't have any at all, huh?
Thanks for the "Finding Neverland" shout-out! There is something interesting in an argument for an "emotional workout," but I am more apt to call these experiences emotional masturbation. I agree with you when you write that the emotion of sentimental art is sometimes dishonest. A dishonest emotional/sentimental workout/masturbation I think mostly happens in film, TV, theater -- or seems to, I think, because the dishonesty I sense is not a dishonesty of the actual emotion(s) experienced or portrayed, but a dishonesty in the route the piece took to arrive at them. This dishonesty crops up mainly in realistic/naturalistic/linear storylines, which both demand a logic and then often easily excuse illogic because "real life is messy".
(I'm sorry if this is "messy" and not making too straightforward of sense).
I feel manipulated when I arrive at a state which in hindsight was where I was designed to arrive. This design becomes apparent when it is not thoroughly and completely logical. Someone started with "let's make them cry at the very end" and then worked backwards. It's not logical, and it's not earned.
That being said, I do get schmaltzy with something like "Finding Neverland," or more appropriately, something classic like "Mary Poppins", not for the actual "emotion" or situation but for my memory of it, for my living through it. I don't understand what people mean when they say they "felt" for the characters. They're not real! I do "feel" for the entire story, for the ideas of the story, for Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet (a whole other theory about our relationships with actors v characters).
I think in the atmosphere you describe, about being "burned" one too many times, does lead people (none moreso than myself) to deny any emotion for fear of sentimentality. I think that impulse is understandable and in some ways good, but working (or wanting to) in the performing arts, I have to remind myself that the art isn't clinical, isn't totally sterile, because humans are involved. Just for me, emotions are if anything the by-product, not the focus. They are outside of what the practicioner can or should control as part of the performance, and I think we feel manipulated when we feel those bounds are overstepped and we, the audience, are forced to "feel."
Ugh, I hate feelings!!
Write more on this and I'll try to formulate better responses next time...
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