Critics are not parents, publicists or parasites. Here’s what we are.

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The state of criticism is one of those perennial subjects of discussion at the Edinburgh Fringe, like commercialism or trams. This year’s festival has been noteworthy for the relative dearth of big-name mainstream reviewers: as Lyn Gardner observed in the Guardian (which has upped its own coverage), broadsheet criticism in general seems to be on the wane; freesheets and blogs are picking up some of the slack but the future of criticism at the Fringe is in considerable doubt.

At the same time, the subject appears to be of growing interest to artists themselves. This Fringe has offered several shows engaging explicitly with the subject of criticism, offering a snapshot of current ideas about what the practice is for – interesting but, to my mind, problematic ideas. I’m going to look at three such productions and the misconceptions about criticism that I think they play into.

Critics are not parents
Many artists are insecure, and understandably so: if they’re any good, they’re making themselves vulnerable by trying to express something personal and original about their experiences of life. Insecurity craves reassurance and reviews are perhaps the foremost vehicle for that reassurance. This can make artists feel like children and think of critics as parents; and, if reassurance is withheld, it becomes tempting to put it down to animus of one kind or another, from envy to avarice to fear.

In The Reviewers, a comedy musical by University of Nottingham graduate company Charlesworth and Wells, the Fringe is dominated by a venal and corrupt website run by an embittered failed actress, a castrating mother figure who dishes out stars only in exchange for payment or sexual favours. Her hegemony is challenged by a newcomer, a bright-eyed young man who values and recognises, through star ratings, the passion and graft that go into making a show. (The script seems to identify the former stance as ‘subjective’ criticism and the latter as ‘objective’, which is just… no.) It’s a showdown, in other words, between the cruel denial of approval and its loving bestowal – but offers barely any sense of reviewers making substantive arguments, positive or negative, about the actual content of the art being made. What’s at stake is the health of lots of young egos; constructive engagement with artistic expression barely gets a look-in.

Critics are not publicists
It’s a jungle out there, and the Fringe is the noisiest, most competitive neck of the woods. Performers and producers need all the help they can get to spread the word about what they’re doing, get bums on seats, raise their profile and cultivate new opportunities. A good review can be a godsend, especially if it comes with four or five stars attached: stars, like awards, are handy signposts that point audiences and programmers towards shows that might be of interest. But they’re also blunt tools not to be confused with actual criticism, which requires an argument, evidence, context… You know, words and thought and questions and debate. (Kim Noble elegantly demonstrates how easily transferable stars are as accolades divorced from actual meaning; for the logical extension of star fetishisation, check out Edimbrugh Fringe Dog‘s Twitter feed.)

Still, sometimes it’s tempting to put practicalities first. In Alan Bayley’s homicidal farce Critical! (A Sociopath’s Guide to Influencing Edinburgh Fringe Reviewers), a small theatre company kidnaps the Scotsman’s lead theatre critic – another sour-faced castrating mother figure, donchaknow – to extract a five-star review in order to secure Arts Council backing. If The Reviewers seems to articulate the anxieties of embarking on a life in theatre, Critical! is very much a mid-career perspective, an industry satire with an eye for the foibles of actors, directors, techies and stage managers as well as critics, and the ambivalent influences of awards, funding bodies, sponsors and so on. The kidnap plot functions as both revenge fantasy, exorcising impotent resentment through violent humiliation, and as a satirical extrapolation of the desperate straits in which many arts companies now find themselves, and the siege mentality that can result. It speaks volumes about the state of the arts sector: less garden than battlefield, in which constructive engagement with artistic expression is left squirming in the dust.

Critics are not parasites
Having seen the perspectives of those starting out and those in the mid-career trenches, I was curious to see the view from the top: what would a major name, a firmly established star recognised by the crown, no less, have to say on the subject of criticism? Dame Diana Rigg’s solo show, No Turn Unstoned, is billed as a “reflection of the worst theatrical reviews in history and a celebration of the actors who survive” – a blurb playing into the old notion of reviewers as attack dogs. My curiosity went unsatisfied, however: although the convention at the Fringe is to allow critics access throughout a show’s run, I was told I couldn’t have a press ticket; Dame Diana had decided to restrict such access because it would reduce the box-office take.*

This is not unheard-of, especially when it comes to productions featuring a big name who doesn’t need reviews to fill houses. But it seemed both galling and ironic in the case of a show that (despite the tone of its billing) reportedly goes out of its way to acknowledge criticism as “integral” to theatre culture. In this case, I was told, the show’s takings are going to a non-subsidised theatre company dear to Dame Diana’s heart – a worthwhile beneficiary, no doubt, but beside the point. On the face of it, there’s no reason a very successful person couldn’t both offer financial support to a struggling company and allow press access to her show. Why make two good causes compete? The specifics of this case aside, the situation illustrates a pervasive view, especially prevalent in commercial theatre, that the benefits of critical engagement are to be measured in terms of financial gain. If it doesn’t help the bottom line, why bother? Some people make a comparable argument about the arts in general: if it doesn’t grow the economy, what good can it be? It’s a line of thought that belittles the value of thought, communication and understanding as ends in themselves, which seems regrettable to me.

Despite what shows like The Reviewers or Critical! (or indeed films like Ratatouille) would have us believe, very few critics are rich. Press tickets allow us to see the volume of work required to maintain an overview of our field, enabling the accrual of knowledge and contextual understanding that is vital to the job. Turn us away for the sake of cash in the tills and constructive engagement with artistic expression is left out in the cold.

Critics are partners
I’m not suggesting The Reviewers, Critical! and No Turn Unstoned are just angry attacks that reject the possibility that critics might be good for something. I don’t think that’s the case. Nor am I denying that critics owe a duty of consideration to the feelings of those whose work they engage with; or that there are times when critical responses can be crucial to the outcome of an artistic project; or that companies need to be financially viable; or indeed that there is cruelty, ignorance and venality in criticism, as there is in every sphere of human activity.

My interest here is in how productions like these embody the ambivalence many in the arts industry feel towards us critics – an ambivalence that is often expressed by exaggerating our significance (the fate of an enterprise is entirely and unfairly in our hands) or exaggerating our insignificance (we are merely a pompous, ultimately irrelevant irritant). The ambivalence is understandable, but to view artists and critics as opponents is, to my mind, misguided and unhelpful. Both, after all, take seriously the idea of artistic expression as an end in itself.

That might sound banal inside the arts bubble, but it can’t be taken for granted outside it. One of the reasons it’s so hard to work in the arts is that most people with real money and power don’t take them very seriously at all. When they do, it’s often in a negative way, meeting acts of individual expression with active hostility, in some parts of the world to the point of homicide. Even within the realm of the arts, there’s plenty of sneering at those who seek change or try new things: I found it striking that both The Reviewers and Critical! went out of their way to poke fun at the very idea of overtly political or formally experimental work.

Critics – the good ones, anyway – are devoted to constructive engagement with artistic expression. This can be useful to artists in all sorts of ways, from the psychological to the commercial to the intellectual: many have benefited from critical insights into their work made from an outside perspective unavailable to them. But criticism is also useful to audiences and readers, framing individual works within cultural, social and political contexts, forging connections across time and space and championing the fragile new. Such thoughtful engagement helps to promote connection, understanding, empathy and love.

It’s true that artists would exist without critics, just as words would exist without conversations. Those who value expression should value both.

For more of my thoughts on the purpose of criticism, you can read my Guardian ebook on critical writing, or attend my Guardian Masterclass in criticism, with special guest Lyn Gardner, on Saturday September 13 2014.

Or check out the only five words an artist needs to handle a bad review.

*For the avoidance of confusion: press tickets were issued at the start of No Turn Unstoned’s run for performances I was unable to attend because I had to have an emergency appendectomy. After repeated requests to attend a later date, I was offered the chance to watch the show standing at the back of the theatre, which wasn’t feasible given my condition. No tickets were available to buy for dates I could attend.