Pauline Kael and the Critic’s canvas

NOTE: This article was written for an audience of people who consider themselves critics in the 21st century.

Oscar Wilde wrote in 1891, “Without the critical faculty, there is no artistic creation at all worthy of the name.” In 1991, Pauline Kael retired from the New Yorker. Passing away in 2001, Pauline Kael bequeathed to the world of Art an estate of shrewd writing that equally affected Journalism and Filmmaking.

The least that can be said of the late critic is that she was influential. Kael’s bold claims about the institutions of film and cinema, as well as about individual films have made tremendous contributions to the Art of Criticism. She is loved by many, hated by an equal number, and occupies the thoughts of all those people enough to inform their discussion of Art.

Though Kael is not the end all be all of Criticism, for such an end would end Criticism. As long as Art develops and responds to the changes in the larger discourse of society, Criticism too will develop and respond. In the 21st century, the youngest generation of critics has had almost no exposure to her work nor knowledge of her existence, and the show must go on. The little acquaintance with Kael we get through assignments or suggestions by our seniors, though speaks to her relevance in making critics think about what it means to be a Critic. Regardless of the subject we criticize, in spite of vehement hatred, or undying adoration, we have Kael and she informs our passion for Criticism.

The Jazz critic Francis Davis writes in the introduction to Afterglow, his book documenting his final conversation with Kael, that, “Pauline’s insistence that art happens in the real world and that it should be an instrument of pleasure has become a governing principle in writing about rock and pop.” Her influence across genres speaks to her relevance to Criticism as a whole, and her protégés are as important as her enemies in enriching this art.

Art is a discussion, and each painting, film, and critical piece are unique statements in that discourse. These statements beg us to not neglect them, and we, as artists, must recognize their importance or forsake our expressive medium.

In Renata Adler’s “House Critic,” she broadsides Kael based on her vulgar vocabulary preferences, and Kael’s use of rhetorical questions. Adler also points out that Kael has made some flagrant errors as a writer, namely Kael’s neglecting to rectify her criticism of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid’s use of an indoor studio for shooting, though the film was in reality shot outdoors when appropriate. This last fault certainly tarnishes Kael’s reputation, though the majority of Adler’s attacks merely reflect her distaste for tactics that Kael sees as central to her artistry.

Despite Adler’s total denunciation of Kael in house critic, the time Adler spent writing her essay solidifies Kael’s relevance to art, in that her existence has fostered discussions about the Artist. It is these discussions and manifestos that have survived into the 21st century discourse, and it is these discussions that will sustain our own.