The Highs (and Lows) of the New York Times Highs (and Lows) of 2003 list

It's time to corral the unruly Arts staff of The New York Times into the frame for a quick snapshot of the group taking a quick snapshot of arts and culture in 2003. Throughout this HTML file, we'll look at the highlights and lowlights of the critics' highlights and lowlights within their fields. The result is a veritable crown roast of meta-criticism, served on a digital platter.

The Highs

· The music critics' assault on the recording industry for its dunderheaded handling of digital music

Clearsighted, terse, well-written, spot on and satisfying to read at the heart of the country's biggest paper. This is smart criticism — you're stepping a few paces back from the individual albums that let you down or pissed you off, and hunting game that's considerably bigger and faster moving.

· The art critics tackle the phenomenon of big exhibitions

Anytime there's a well-supported call for creative overseers to "be much more cognizant of scale and concision," you've got to applaud. Particularly in today's America, which is swamped with big, sloppy, marshmallow-man cultural enterprises.

· A.O. Scott calls Sean Penn "the best screen actor of his generation" in his #2 film blurb

You don't have to agree with this judgment to appreciate what a powerful statement this is. Scott's sticking his jaw out as a critic, and it may mean a lot to someone like Penn to have such an unqualified validation of his artistic output from such a well-respected source. It's nice to see critics really get excited.

· The TV critics' assessment of "The West Wing"

Kudos to them for correctly identifying and citing John Goodman's tremendously strong and entertaining guest appearance on the show, and noting the fading of Aaron Sorkin as the show's leading creative light. An epoch passed, with a bang.

· The whole concept

How much fun is it to stroll through so many of the various avenues and alleys of culture — high and low — with a battalion of critics from the New York Times? A lot. Even when you're swearing at the newspaper and shaking your fist, you've gotta be grateful for the deep, rich, provocative critical material you're swearing at.

The Lows

J.R. Norton: The stunning thing about these lists is how timid most of the "lows" really were. I mean, these critics are heavy hitters. They were in a prime position to give the Eliminator to a broad spectrum of pretentious, sloppy, commercially corrupted culture ... and they folded like windsocks. Where was the intoxicatingly rank essence of bitchitude that the story structure seemed to promise?

James Norton: Well, you've got to give the film and TV critics their due. They lashed out.

JR: True, they were good. It's probably easier to jujitsu slam a big collective project like a film than it is to go after, say, an individual playwright, or an architect's personal life work. That said, the stone-cold assessment of "Living it Up! With Ali & Jack" in the TV section was tasty like nougat.

JN: But it was kind of like stepping on a Smurf. And then you've got that entire dance section...

JR: Oh, let's not just pan the dance stuff for its embarrassingly anemic takedown of the "lows." Let's pan it for being more useless and esoteric than write-ups of Tuvan throat singing.

JN: Stepping back from dance for a minute... across the board, the "lows" all seemed to have this weird, elliptical unwillingness to name names and bite hard. Listen to this quote: "She's definitely set herself up for a triumphant return-to-the-roots-comeback."

	The Highs (and Lows) of the Flak Magazine Highs (and Lows) of the New York Times Highs (and Lows) of 2003 list The Highs Spotting the absence of Return of the King on the film lists Great point. The Times, ever vulnerable to accusations of snobbery and sporting a new arts editor with an allegedly high quotient of shake-it-up badassitude, is really going to hear about this. Fresh, solid cultural references There were a lot of solid new references cropping up throughout the meta-criticism. Not just the stuff the Times brought to the party, regurgitated; the reviewer brought a lot of fresh produce to the table. The part where he said the classical music section was "40,000 words long" Using a concrete, but obviously exaggerated number brings a spicy sense of kindergarten exasperation to what would have otherwise been a pedestrian complaint. The Lows JR: It's aggravating to see Norton attempt to deconstruct lists that address genres he's barely literate in. JN: Did you know that he doesn't even have cable? JR: Wha-aaaa-t? JN: I know. JR: Plus, his knock of the dance section — and dance in general — was preposterous. Calling him "dance illiterate" is an insult to illiterate people. JN: My understanding is that he's never attended a professional dance performance in his life, with the exception of seeing "The Nutcracker" in Wisconsin somewhere. JR: That was great. One of the prop Christmas presents caught fire when the pyrotechnics went awry. Herr Drosselmeyer had to stomp it out. JN: Clearly a solid basis for assessing the entire medium. And on a broader scale, it's clearly a little arrogant to sit and take potshots at what were, overall, a bunch of solidly composed and erudite lists and panel discussions. JR: Sure, but just because he's not culturally omniscient isn't a reason to knock his attempt to keep the elite among tastemakers in line. JN: I don't demand omniscience, but wasn't it odd how much of the write-up gravitated toward film and television criticism, conveniently ignoring the section's 90 other different topics? JR: There was definitely that. I'm not going to defend him. In fact, I'd like to point out that he seriously suggested killing himself while listening to Elvis Costello, and then immediately criticized that concept, rather than just rewriting it. JN: Do you know what your comment just was? That was a meta-meta-metacritical assessment of schizoid self-criticism within an overall meta-meta critical framework. JR: Man, I've had it with your crap. Also see: The Highs (and Lows) of the Highs (and Lows) of the Flak Magazine Highs (and Lows) of the New York Times Highs (and Lows) of 2003 list

Or how about this: "Ultimately, as an experiment, this can lead to an enrichment of a dance vocabulary."

Or: "My disappointment is that actually, in the last few years, I've heard several operas that I thought were really absolute top-notch pieces."

These guys can really rip it up!

JR: In some places, it was like watching a bunch of piranhas try to eat a cow right after you'd already thrown a fully stuffed Thanksgiving turkey into the tank.

JN: "Oh, please. I couldn't. Well, all right. I'll have a nibble." I mean, I think there's this feeling that in a more intimate, personal conversation, no one wants to come across as this raging, snobbish ogre. Considering the hammer-swinging might of the Times arts pages, there were some delicately padded little pillows being swung in some of these "Lows" discussions.

JR: There were many gently grazed sacred cows that were calling out for slaughter. Although the movie guys seemed to do all right with the "lows." Save me, Elvis Mitchell! Save my bacon!

JN: What about Mystic River? That was prominent on the positive film lists.

JR: Oh, my stars. At the Mystic River showing I went to, half the audience walked out of the theater cursing about how shoddily the film ended. This was in Boston, mind you.

JN: Well, a lot of the acting was powerful. Tim Robbins was incredibly strong, and Sean Penn was totally searing, when he wasn't exploring the Planet of the Hams. And that other guy.

JR: Kevin Bacon. But the ending was nonsense. For a solid 25 minutes after what would have been a perfectly solid ending, a ton of poorly explained, melodramatic knickknacks pop out of this Fibber McGee closet of extra material from the book. And yet, the critics high-mindedly tried to steer audiences into the theater to see it, with nary a mention of the narrative junkyard that awaits.

JN: And that's just it. There's this sort of "Go and view it, my little lambs," attitude about films like Mystic River and Kandahar and House of Sand and Fog that myopically overlooks the fact that while the movies themselves are really admirably designed, they were flubbed in the execution phase.

These films are essentially pre-packaged, high-concept, arty reviews that write themselves. No one, from well-meaning hacks at the local alternative weekly up to the Times staff, seems to be able to resist their pull. I think [New Yorker critic David] Denby fell for Mystic River, too. This is the sort of attitude that brought us good reviews for Crash and Pi, two of the most fluorescent turds the film industry has dropped into the waiting hands of easily deluded grad students in recent years.

JR: Oh. Hey. As much as I agree with you on this, what the hell was up with Return of the King only making one of the three lists? At No. 9?

JN: Be calm.

JR: I am calm, but who are these people? Do they enjoy movies? Do they have eyes with which to see?

JN: It was no Bus 174, I'll say that. That's a very well regarded documentary that is a devastating account of the poverty and violence that wrack urban Brazil.

JR: Hell, my favorite film is a Danish movie shot with a HandyCam. But, good lord. Return of the King was the hugest thing we're likely to see in a decade, and, both emotionally and visually, it soared like a condor. It should've been on all three lists, and at the top of at least one. In a just world.

JN: Well, keep waiting. A better world is yet to come.

JR: How about that classical music recap?

JN: Oh, that could have been longer.

JR: Yeah, I think it was only 40,000 words long. That's barely a thin paperback. I breezed through it over the course of three successive long lunches.

JN: OK, sure, we can say that, but there are classical music fans for whom that section is, you know, like bread for the soul. What would you do if The New York Review of Books started running shorter writeups on Middle Eastern affairs? You know, like a mere 2,000 words per article?

JR: I would kill myself.

JN: Yeah, exactly.

JR: I have a New York Review of Books letter opener. I would go to the bathtub, draw a hot bath, and then open my veins with it. Like Seneca. Except I'd be listening to "Around the World," by Daft Punk.

JN: Would you seriously kill yourself while listening to French techno?

JR: Why not? I mean, what would you pick?

JN: Christ, I dunno. Probably something intense by Elvis Costello. Probably "Beyond Belief."

JR: Wow, that's thoughtful. Did you remember to update your blog today? Because I think that's a really heavy topic for a possible blog entry.

JN: Yeah. Also: Where was online culture in this whirlwind of cultural assessments? Online fiction? Conceptual websites? Digital design? Flash animation.

JR: Oh, screw the Web. "Peanut Butter Jelly Time" doesn't need any more ink.

JN: You can't just say "screw the Web." It's the lifeblood of culture and art for the young and young at heart.

JR: And yet, if you consult the transcript, you'll see that I did.