Three Types of Criticism, All Fictional

Somewhere back along the way, I became obsessed with the idea of a scientific criticism. After about

fifteen minutes, I realised that this would be difficult:  science is, despite claims that it is a body of theories  known as facts or statistics wearing a fancy gown, a methodology for investigation. When Nicholas Bone described the vision of his company, Magnetic North, as wondering would happen if..., then he was a great deal closer to science than the next idiot at the dinner party who starts shouting about natural selection being a fact (it isn't: evolution is. Natural selection is a theory explaining the mechanism whereby evolution happens).

I try to imagine what a scientific criticism would look like. It might look a bit like my blog, with all the different ways that a review or preview being slapped out at a rate of knots, and seeing what sticks (although thinking about it, that sounds rather like natural selection... when a particular approach gets a good hit rate, I repeat it). I am hoping that my Young Critics might provide me with ideas. In the meantime, I'll moan about how much criticism is theological or philosophical in nature. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

First of all, I want to define the two approaches. Quickly, like, and yes, I am just making this up. It's part of an attempt to find out how criticism works. If it sounds stupid, it is because I am either stupid or trying to begin a study without reference to existing theories.

Then I want to take the philosophical approach and see if I can't break it down.

Criticism-as-theology is usually the criticism voiced by artists trying to articulate their creative process, or make sense of their art. Peter Brooke has a couple of real beauties in his writings that follows his interest in religion and spirituality - and many of the interview on my blog have a similar attitude. For example, Harry Giles notes that, for him, it is a choice of making theatre or death.

I have come out with plenty of criticism-as-theology myself. Again, it's not surprising: I have never hidden my enthusiasm for Buddhist ideas and Jesuit spirituality. In brief, criticism-as-theology regards art as ultimately mysterious, an indivisable whole that cannot be divided into petty details. The puriest theology just marvels at its majesty, and attempts to reflect the glory.

Philosophical criticism takes a more analytical approach. It examines the various aspects of an art work - the materials, the presentation, the diverse influences - and assesses their contribution to the whole. It's probably the most common form of criticism: it stretches across the academic and populist forms.

This approach divides the performance into categories: it defines the form and the function, separates content from style, does a nice side-line in categories. It shares the broad general statement of theology, is quite happy to use a priori definitions and put theatre into a wider context.

Scientific criticism is, as yet, undefined. I could just take a load of scientific theories and apply them to theatre. However, that would not be scientific. It would be philosophical... true scientific criticism applies the scientific method to art. And I have no idea how that is going to play out