There's a reason why Robocritic was fitted with a human, and not just made purely out of metal and software. Imagination is a crucial quality in the engagement with art - without it, most plays would just turn into a bunch of people running about on stage, and paintings would become blobs of meaningless paint on canvas.
Unfortunately, the original prime directives militated against the exercise of imagination, leaving a series of failed critiques littering Robocritic's hard drive. He thoughts on A Chorus Line, for example, consisted of repeated complaints that the characters kept dancing and singing for no good reason.
Three new prime directives have been installed, but these are more by way of suggestion than absolutes. Each of these statements have been hardwired into Robocritic's consciousness. They are always true, he believes, and always applicable. But unlike the original directives, they do not correspond to definitive statements and can be interpreted without the need for the installation of a post-modern deconstruction chip.
Prime Directive One
Monsters Inc is a really good film because it relays an important moral in an entertaining fashion. In fact, it has that wonderful quality, when the point being made correlates with the format of the film. Presenting the idea that laughter is a better fuel than fear for the Monsters' energy need, it relies on comedy rather than terror to get the message across.
The first soundings are good. Robocritic now insists that the structure of A Chorus Line now explains why the cast keep bursting into song: they are at a rehearsal for a musical, and it would make sense for performers, trained as triple threats, would best express themselves through their training. He also agreed that the choice by Glasgow Music Theatre was a wise one, since the community nature of the production (being inclusive and consequently having varying abilities) is not only protected by the scenario - it's an audition and perhaps some performers would have less skill in one or more area but the range of parts means no one performer has to shoulder the entire success or failure of the production.
A print-out of Robocritic's feelings on Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares is also positive. If Celtic Connections is now more concerned with the connection than a strict Celtic music theme, the emotional connection made by the beauty of the Bulgarian State Radio and Television Female Vocal Choir is a more persuasive argument for international collaboration than an essay on the United Nations.
Showing posts with label robocritic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label robocritic. Show all posts
Friday, 1 February 2013
Tuesday, 22 January 2013
Robocritic reviews The Maids @ The Citizens
Preserve the public trust.
Genet used theatre as a weapon. Stuck in the margins of society - Stewart Laing comments that he has read an interview with the French author in which he complained that his acceptance by the literary establishment gave him serious writer's block - Genet embraced the idea of criminality as a virtue. Hence The Maids is full of anarchist content. The mistress, perhaps an avatar of God, is depicted as uncaring and thoughtless. The maids themselves are perverts, enjoying a series of role-plays and indulging sexual violence.
The public trust in the Citizens as a venue for entertainment could be seriously damaged by this production. The arrival of Laing on stage halfway through the production for a question and answer session, the musical interludes including a rendition of BDSM classic Venus in Furs, the unstinting representation of erotic bullying: these contribute to a disturbing atmosphere. The decision to follow Genet's instruction to have the female characters played by men, yet Laing's refusal to make them camp up the roles, offers a rare example of genuinely confusing gender identity.
Fortunately, Laing's skill as a director keeps Genet's balance between theatrical convention and mayhem. Laing highlights the ritualistic aspects of the script, and reminds the audience that this is not some kind of documentary but a surreal performance. Consequently, those values most prized by the audience - performances, set and scenery, visual spectacle and clear narrative - are held in place.
Protect the innocent
With the exception of David Bowie's Jean Genie, all material connected to Genet must be kept away from the innocent. In The Maids, the only innocent character (the unseen lover of the mistress) is arrested because the maids decide to grass him up to the cops. An exercise in corrupted desire, possibly influenced by the historical context of the 1940s (a France occupied by Nazis might encourage a writer to believe that his antagonism towards power is justified), The Maids is set in a universe where life itself is guilt.
Uphold the Law
The law in The Maids is the ultimate power. The threat of the executioner - and the bliss found in his arms - and the drama of punishment lies behind all of the servants' antics. Even the mistress is subservient to the law. It hovers in the background, provides the grounding for the various flights of fantasy. Not only is the law upheld, it defines the corruption of the characters.
Laing plays hard and fast with the laws of theatre. The curtain gets to do a funky dance, one scene is played out as a rehearsal, the director turns up (with a beard that really works) and chats to the audience. There is a video of Genet moaning at the BBC for making him a familiar face. The suspension of disbelief is shattered. It is as if the tyranny of the law within the play is mocked by Laing's freedom in staging.
(Classified)
Genet used theatre as a weapon. Stuck in the margins of society - Stewart Laing comments that he has read an interview with the French author in which he complained that his acceptance by the literary establishment gave him serious writer's block - Genet embraced the idea of criminality as a virtue. Hence The Maids is full of anarchist content. The mistress, perhaps an avatar of God, is depicted as uncaring and thoughtless. The maids themselves are perverts, enjoying a series of role-plays and indulging sexual violence.
The public trust in the Citizens as a venue for entertainment could be seriously damaged by this production. The arrival of Laing on stage halfway through the production for a question and answer session, the musical interludes including a rendition of BDSM classic Venus in Furs, the unstinting representation of erotic bullying: these contribute to a disturbing atmosphere. The decision to follow Genet's instruction to have the female characters played by men, yet Laing's refusal to make them camp up the roles, offers a rare example of genuinely confusing gender identity.
Fortunately, Laing's skill as a director keeps Genet's balance between theatrical convention and mayhem. Laing highlights the ritualistic aspects of the script, and reminds the audience that this is not some kind of documentary but a surreal performance. Consequently, those values most prized by the audience - performances, set and scenery, visual spectacle and clear narrative - are held in place.
Protect the innocent
With the exception of David Bowie's Jean Genie, all material connected to Genet must be kept away from the innocent. In The Maids, the only innocent character (the unseen lover of the mistress) is arrested because the maids decide to grass him up to the cops. An exercise in corrupted desire, possibly influenced by the historical context of the 1940s (a France occupied by Nazis might encourage a writer to believe that his antagonism towards power is justified), The Maids is set in a universe where life itself is guilt.
Uphold the Law
The law in The Maids is the ultimate power. The threat of the executioner - and the bliss found in his arms - and the drama of punishment lies behind all of the servants' antics. Even the mistress is subservient to the law. It hovers in the background, provides the grounding for the various flights of fantasy. Not only is the law upheld, it defines the corruption of the characters.
Laing plays hard and fast with the laws of theatre. The curtain gets to do a funky dance, one scene is played out as a rehearsal, the director turns up (with a beard that really works) and chats to the audience. There is a video of Genet moaning at the BBC for making him a familiar face. The suspension of disbelief is shattered. It is as if the tyranny of the law within the play is mocked by Laing's freedom in staging.
(Classified)
Thursday, 15 November 2012
Robocritic decommissioned
It's with a considerable degree of regret that we here at A.I.M have to announce the temporary decommissioning of Robocritic. It appears that the integration of the technology and the human was not quite as complete as we had hoped, and I am sure that you have already heard about the regrettable incident earlier today at Tramway. We believe that it was the result of too much cheap coffee, which flooded Robocritic's system and led to his wild rampage along the corridor that leads to Scottish Ballet.
When we developed Robocritic, we hoped to by-pass the usual problems of populist critique, and discover a scientific approach to the critical process. This unfortunately caused Robocritic's obsession with statistical data. He downloaded his consciousness onto a discussion forum, infected a box office system and began a flame war with a group of conceptual artists. His insistence that audience numbers were the only way to gauge the worth of a performance, and his subsequent refusal to review any art that hadn't been on television, made him functionally worthless.
The "radical subjectivity chip" which we fitted to his critical faculties was supposedly a safeguard against this particular problem - essentially, the chip was supposed to use his relative enjoyment of any individual show as the basis for analysis. Somehow, he got hold of Tower Hamlet's press release about selling off a Henry Moore sculpture to benefit local residents. Faced with the impossibility of resolving the tension between aesthetic and financial worth, the chip exploded and Robocritic drunk more coffee than Robbie Williams managed that time he went into rehab.
Robocritic is currently undergoing rehabilitation. Later tonight, he will be seeing Sven Werner's Tales of Magical Realism. This involves being blindfolded and listening to a story on headphones. The isolation from external stimulation will re-calibrate his sensitivity to art in and of itself, regardless of the broader political or social context. Werner's soundtrack has some rather soothing voices and David Lynch style music. Robocritic will be going on a personal journey into a mythical land - a vision quest, if you will - and will stop bellowing that Michael McIntyre is more important than Robbie Thomson.
The extent of Robocritic's problems became evident when he said he'd rather watch Live at the Apollo than see Ecstatic Arc. Frankly, any standard of judgment clarifies that Ecstatic Arc is more exciting and cooler than watching a hyper-active observational comic bounce around a stage, unless the comic falls over and hurts himself.
When we developed Robocritic, we hoped to by-pass the usual problems of populist critique, and discover a scientific approach to the critical process. This unfortunately caused Robocritic's obsession with statistical data. He downloaded his consciousness onto a discussion forum, infected a box office system and began a flame war with a group of conceptual artists. His insistence that audience numbers were the only way to gauge the worth of a performance, and his subsequent refusal to review any art that hadn't been on television, made him functionally worthless.
The "radical subjectivity chip" which we fitted to his critical faculties was supposedly a safeguard against this particular problem - essentially, the chip was supposed to use his relative enjoyment of any individual show as the basis for analysis. Somehow, he got hold of Tower Hamlet's press release about selling off a Henry Moore sculpture to benefit local residents. Faced with the impossibility of resolving the tension between aesthetic and financial worth, the chip exploded and Robocritic drunk more coffee than Robbie Williams managed that time he went into rehab.
Robocritic is currently undergoing rehabilitation. Later tonight, he will be seeing Sven Werner's Tales of Magical Realism. This involves being blindfolded and listening to a story on headphones. The isolation from external stimulation will re-calibrate his sensitivity to art in and of itself, regardless of the broader political or social context. Werner's soundtrack has some rather soothing voices and David Lynch style music. Robocritic will be going on a personal journey into a mythical land - a vision quest, if you will - and will stop bellowing that Michael McIntyre is more important than Robbie Thomson.
The extent of Robocritic's problems became evident when he said he'd rather watch Live at the Apollo than see Ecstatic Arc. Frankly, any standard of judgment clarifies that Ecstatic Arc is more exciting and cooler than watching a hyper-active observational comic bounce around a stage, unless the comic falls over and hurts himself.
The Birth of Robocritic
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us here today. I know that you have all heard a great deal about our work here at Advanced Ideas Mechanics, and our reputation is not exactly squeaky clean. Those unfortunate battles with the Avengers, the rumours that we are planning to dominate the entire world through our technology, the rather stupid outfits we wear in our public appearances. And yet, today, I hope that we'll prove how A.I.M is working towards a better future for everyone.
In a moment, we shall unveil our latest, most powerful creation: Robocritic. As Robocop was touted as the future of law enforcement, we believe that Robocritic will redefine the critical appreciation of art. A team of scientists has been hard at it, working out definitions of performance, contemporary dance, electronic composition and aesthetics for the past seven years: their dedication has reached a culmination with Robocritic.
Like many scientists, we were inspired not by what already existed - a cohort of professional, serious professionals examining the arts from multiple perspectives - but a cheap science fiction film. It's well known that Star Trek's Spock (that's Mister, not Doctor - Dr Spock was an anarchist expert on parenting) inspired a generation of physicists to research outre ideas and write filthy stories about Captain Kirk and his science officer. Now A.I.M is proud to admit that a 1980s action thriller, with a side serving of social satire, has encouraged us to build something neither wholly human nor completely machine - but totally rad.
Robocritic was designed around three prime directives: to address all art forms and discuss their commonalities; to ceaselessly seek answers to questions previously considered irrelevant; to communicate those ideas in a format that allows plenty of argument. If asked to boil these down to a single slogan, we'd suggest: "Robocritic doesn't know, but he sounds like he does."
We had difficulty finding the right person for the job: our early experiments went awry, as the average human mind failed to cope with extended exposure to Live Art. Fortunately, when we discovered the broken body of Mr Criticulous - he succumbed to shingles after the 2011 Edinburgh Fringe, and has been wandering around shouting about "the death of the script" for the past twelve months - we had our consciousness. His Jesuit education had already taken him beyond the edge of reasonable philosophy, and his attempts to combine scientific method and theology as a method of aesthetic assessment mirrored our own madcap schemes to organise the world's governments under one system.
Just as soon as he stops talking in binary, Robocritic will be a regular guest on The Vile Blog. He'll be sent into territories that don't yet have clear definitions, and make a big enough fuss to, hopefully, set out some kind of map for further discussion.
Like many scientists, we were inspired not by what already existed - a cohort of professional, serious professionals examining the arts from multiple perspectives - but a cheap science fiction film. It's well known that Star Trek's Spock (that's Mister, not Doctor - Dr Spock was an anarchist expert on parenting) inspired a generation of physicists to research outre ideas and write filthy stories about Captain Kirk and his science officer. Now A.I.M is proud to admit that a 1980s action thriller, with a side serving of social satire, has encouraged us to build something neither wholly human nor completely machine - but totally rad.
Robocritic was designed around three prime directives: to address all art forms and discuss their commonalities; to ceaselessly seek answers to questions previously considered irrelevant; to communicate those ideas in a format that allows plenty of argument. If asked to boil these down to a single slogan, we'd suggest: "Robocritic doesn't know, but he sounds like he does."
We had difficulty finding the right person for the job: our early experiments went awry, as the average human mind failed to cope with extended exposure to Live Art. Fortunately, when we discovered the broken body of Mr Criticulous - he succumbed to shingles after the 2011 Edinburgh Fringe, and has been wandering around shouting about "the death of the script" for the past twelve months - we had our consciousness. His Jesuit education had already taken him beyond the edge of reasonable philosophy, and his attempts to combine scientific method and theology as a method of aesthetic assessment mirrored our own madcap schemes to organise the world's governments under one system.
Just as soon as he stops talking in binary, Robocritic will be a regular guest on The Vile Blog. He'll be sent into territories that don't yet have clear definitions, and make a big enough fuss to, hopefully, set out some kind of map for further discussion.
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