Criticism As Commodity

For whatever reason, we were watching America’s Got Talent at home recently. And at some point, right before going to a commercial break, Sharon Osbourne said something that made me realize exactly what is so wrong with this kind of TV show. She was asked to comment on the act presented by a young illusionist, and said “He’s made illusion modern, cutting edge. He was brilliant.”¹ And I’ve yet to determine whether I had a seizure or an epiphany. Either way, I’ll share my conclusions with you here.

While I enjoyed the young man’s act as well —I found it both entertaining and refreshingly energetic—, I can’t help but ask: Who the hell is Sharon Osbourne to judge such an act, to speak of where the industry’s cutting edge lies and who’s pushing that boundary, or posit that the craft needs reinventing to make it modern or current (implying that illusionism as a craft is stale or irrelevant)? I’m no illusionism expert, but then that’s the point: neither is Mrs. Osbourne.

And therein lies the thick of my beef with Britain/America’s Got Talent. They trivialize expert criticism and effectively hand over authority to people who’s perceived expertise relies on their celebrity alone. Think about it: A mediocre (if amusing) actor, a tabloid news editor and a rock band manager are to decide who’s cutting edge with only their impressionable inexperience² as criteria. All of this may seem arrogant of me, but what greater arrogance than to presume expertise in all things show business regardless of which discipline is mastered by the judges and which disciplines are being judged?

Nobody is an expert (nevermind a critic) on everything, and I think it is disrespectful —to performers, to critics, to craft, to the spectators— when we presume otherwise.

Everyone’s a critic, as they say, but when we make a big spectacle of the curation of talent, it is particularly frustrating to watch as celebrities are given a sort of pundit mantle. They’re then expected to school us all on how talent and craft should be judged, effectively validating the idea that if you have a vague association with an industry, you are qualified to judge it as a critical voice, as an expert whose opinion is relevant to the trade.

Granted: The show is attempting to find an act for Vegas, as opposed to an act expected to become a leader in its industry. But, doesn’t Vegas pride itself in being the mecca of all things entertainment? What’s more: Regardless of what the final point of the show is, I’m convinced that in the public eye its influence shall transcend that condition. And I doubt the show’s producers will complain.

It seems elitist because it is. But elitism is not all the sorts of evil it is cracked up to be; I believe it has a place in our world. We rely on experts to curate our cultural experiences, to be selective and demanding; to be snobbish and obsessively attentive, so we don’t have to be. We need these curators to be elitist, so that they may better serve our need for cultural consumption, because when this snobbery is borne out of an unquenchable thirst for cultural knowledge and exploration, it results in a superior cultural experience for us.

In the end, though, I am left with what I think is an interesting question: Does this show really subvert the curatorial mechanisms that filter our cultural waters, or does it simply expose an underlying reality of how our pop culture is shaped behind the scenes?

That’s something I’ll need further pondering to figure out. Until then, I’d like to read your thoughts.