Life, 1924-08-21 · page 20 of 36
Life — August 21, 1924 — page 20: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is an editorial piece by Robert C. Benchley, Life's drama critic, addressing readers about theater criticism and expectations. The page contains no political cartoons—rather, it's satirical commentary on theatergoers themselves. **The Satire's Target:** Benchley mocks readers who take theater reviews as gospel truth, then blame the critic when they dislike a show. He ridicules their logic by comparing it to someone reading "corn on the cob is great food," trying it, disliking it, then accusing the food writer of bribery. **Key Points:** Benchley establishes that his column is "unreliable, inconsistent and temperamental"—intentionally humorous rather than authoritative. He also humorously insults readers' intelligence ("two-thirds of you sent back to the seventh grade"). The tone is self-aware and comedic, openly admitting critics may be biased or wrong, while suggesting readers bear responsibility for their own theater choices. The illustration shows five faces in silhouette—likely representing types of readers or critics, though their specific identities remain unclear from the image alone.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ag setel S| yay t\ ZEISS An Open Letter to the Public EXT week the new season opens. (Since, for some unaccountable and probably insufficient reason, it takes two wi to print this funny old paper, by the date of issue the preceding sentence should read: “Last week the new season opened,” but we can't be bothered with the metaphysics of the thing.) Before we start in together on our new work, you, our dear Public, and we (a work in which every one ought to be very, very happy), there are one or two little points which will stand a bit of clarifying. This may hurt a little, but, after all, most of the things that are worth while hurt a little at some time or other, don't they? Or do they?...1 wonder. ERHAPS, in the past, you have had occasion to suspect us of being not quite everything that a great, big, hand- some dramatic critic ought to be. You may have fe't that we were obtuse in our judgment of plays. You may have been sure that we were biased, either through moncy-lust or sentimental attachment, in our estimation of players. You may have thought that we were just plain stupid. (With a shrug.) Perhaps we have been. But, dearest Public of them all, that is nothing to what we have suspected you of being. We have before us bundles of letters from you, and piles of shorthand notes jotted down after conversations with you, which we could take before any jury in the country and have two-thirds of you sent back to the seventh grade in no time. And two- thirds is letting you down casy. the first place, a great many people seem to take this department. serious! They read the deathless little lit- crary bijour on this page, tossed off quite obviously for the enrichment of our national letters and for no other reason, and between the lines find a tacit assumption on our part that we expect them to follow our advice in the matter of choosing plays. “T read on your page in Live,” writes Legion, “that ‘Instep’ was a good show. I spent $15 for two seats and both I and my wife decided that it was the worst thing we had ever seen. How much of that $15 did you get from the management, you dirty crook, you? It hardly seems necessary to point out that this is like say- ing: “I read on your ein Lire that corn on the cob was a great food. We tried it the other night for dinner and it was terrible.” Several seasons a there was a lady who felt so bit- terly about our having liked “The Circle” that, just to shame her, we sent her a check for the price of her tickets. She turned the tables prettily on us by keeping, and cashing. the check. We decided that this form of sarcasm on our part would run into money if continued; so we ga it up immediately, bet there is a good idea there somewhere. *, through years of checking up on our likes and dislikes in the theatre, you find that they correspond approx- imately to your own, then we have no objection to your taking a chance once in a while and gambling on a couple of seats on our tip. But if, out of a clear sky, you read something on this page (which is hereby proclaimed the most unreliable, inconsistent and temperamental page of personal reactions in the country), and on the strength of it go out and pay money for a show which you do not like, and then write an indignant letter blaming us, we give you fair warning now that we will have you arrested. cpm —— § o- «p> ANOTHER small matter, before we join hands and enter new pastures together, dear Reader. There scems to be quite a bit of feeling on the part of our clients about the recurrent phrase in the Guide on the opposite page, “To be reviewed later.” It is hinted that we slacking, that we put off attending shows until it is time for them to close, that we are just a lazy Old Thing. ‘ow, thanks to the managers, we attend every new production on its opening night (except where two or three open together) and write the review of it that very week. But, as you will remember reading in our smashing opening pa aph, these pages are written two weeks before they appear in print, and when you sce “To be reviewed later” in the Guide, it means that the play in ques- tion had not even opened at the time of—oh, what's the use in all this talk? If you haven't sense enough to have figured it out for yourself without being told, you won't understand it even when it is explained to you. And now let's just shut our eyes and wait until next week (last week), and begin the New Year all refreshed and tolerant after this Good Talk together....Only try not to be so stupid about those letters, won't you? Just re- member that Mother has only one pair of hands. Robert C. Benchley. re comicbooks.com —