Mamma Mia and the Artiste vs. the Entertainer

in #writing6 years ago




When I started my blog many moons ago, I was still reeling from graduate school where I was studying writing genre and speculative fiction. While many of my classmates were writing edgy reimaginings of classic literature (one, a white guy from Connecticut was writing a literary fiction about a Chinese doctor growing a homunculus in his scrotum as a modern take on Mary Shelley’s Prometheus), and immersing themselves almost solely in Cormac McCarthy, Kurt Vonnegut, and Thomas Pynchon, I was reading popular fiction and graphic novels, watching summer blockbusters and popcorn movies, and writing my required papers on the like. My first advisor become my adversary over this, insisting that I needed to get out of my “comfort zone” if I wanted to be taken seriously, but honestly, from gifted programs in elementary school, Accelerated Classes in junior high, Advanced Placement classes in high school, and Honors courses in college, I’d never had the opportunity to write inside of my “comfort zone”.

So, I started a semi-regular feature I called “Justifying My English Degree”, where I would examine films and video games and graphic novels that would generally be consumed by the masses and reviewed often by critics who had one hand firmly pinching their nostrils shut. I’d look over the films and find the hidden messages and lessons, scenes where the writers and artists responsible would sneak in a sly critique of those who stood above them, arrogantly pissing down on who they considered the hoi polloi.

Artiste vs. Poseur


A fallacy that I’ve finally begun to notice in recent years is that of the false binary, the idea that things can only be one thing or the other with nothing in between. In regards to art, film, music, and writing, the general assumed binary has long been assumed to be that of “Artiste versus Poseur”. An Artiste, of course, is an artist who creates works that explore aspects of society and existence, emotion and passion, and often attempts to define the abstract. Artistes are generally well-regarded, respected, and showered with well-deserved praise and attention.

A Poseur, on the other hand, is a failed artist that, since he or she could not create something of value on their own, brutishly, and pathetically imitated the Artiste’s works and methods in order to sell a watered down, slavishly slapped together piece of dreck that the unwashed masses couldn’t differentiate from that of True Art (which is solely the domain of the Artiste), and converted into undeserved material wealth and fame. This is what Artistes believe about who they consider Poseurs, anyway.

It’s been said before, but a popular story in writer’s circles is a tale of two interviews, one with John Updike, a much-lauded and respected literary author, and the other with Stephen King, a well-known, massively bestselling author. King reportedly asserted that he was grateful for the fan adulation, and the money, but he wished he could have the respect that Updike commanded. Updike, as the story goes, reveled in the critical praise, but wished he could have even a tenth of King’s sales numbers. Whether it’s true or not isn’t the point, the story is to imply that both Artiste and Poseur secretly envy each other.

Enter the Entertainer


To disprove a false binary fallacy, one only needs to introduce a valid third option. In the case of Artiste and Poseur, the binary primarily serves to exalt the Artiste as noble and damn the Poseur as craven. The Artiste creates, the Poseur copies to cash in. The Artiste creates for themselves, and for the betterment and raising of society, while the Poseur sells swill to the unwashed masses.

However, this ignores an additional option, that of the Entertainer, the artist that creates art for the enjoyment of the masses, often according to trends, to give the people either what they want, or what they hadn’t considered they wanted. In regards to film, this is usually pegged by when a film is released. In the summer, it’s entertainment, and in the winter, or “Oscar Season”, it’s generally considered to be meant as a prestige feature. It’s also put into the binary of film vs. movie, where the former is considered to be a more artistic pursuit while the latter is viewed as pure entertainment for money-making purposes.

It’s also the latter that’s often derided by critics that succeed in spite of their much-vaunted taste. It can require a redefinition of the qualities that are judged in more entertainment focused fare, and it’s been seen that there are few modern film genres that are critically derided as much as the “jukebox musical”. Popular examples include Tommy, The Wall (though purists will insist they be labeled as rock operas), Moulin Rouge, Jersey Boys, and one of the most successful in the genre, Mamma Mia!, which relied on the catalog of ABBA.

Revenge of the Nerds


When Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again was announced, it was generally regarded with disdain by the critical community, as a sequel seemed unnecessary, and it would be nothing more than an eye-roll worthy cash-grab. That the first movie was based on a Broadway smash, and the film was made for less than $60m and went on to gross over $600m worldwide, and that ABBA’s catalog wasn’t exhausted in the first film, shouldn’t have made a sequel all that surprising (and honestly, that a movie that brought a 1000% profit needed ten years to get a sequel greenlit is the more surprising fact), but while reviews of the first were primarily those of entertainment reviewers reviewing a film made by an entertainer, the sequel was treated to harsher critiques by artiste-aspiring critics who dismissed the sequel’s merits as the worst kind of poseur: the poseur copying themselves for diminishing returns.

The Onion put out its own “review”, which was instead a scathing indictment of those who collectively shat on the film by judging it as hopeful Oscar bait instead of simple entertainment and escapism. Other critics used the low ratings and grades as reason to examine the gendered critiques of the film, that fare like Mamma Mia and the earlier release Ocean’s 8 were considered “women’s films” (with their female-centric stories and cast) that were being critiqued primarily by men. While it should be said that both Ocean’s 8 and Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again are both female-centric, both films were also written and directed by men (The original Mamma Mia was, on the other hand, written and directed by women).

Still, the more negative criticism attempts to reframe the critique as Artiste vs. Poseur when in fact it’s closer to the much more bitterly contested Artiste vs. Entertainer, of what is substantial versus what is popular, what is enriching versus what is fun, what makes you think versus what helps you escape. Both are needed types of art, because a culture based on extremes of either side is a culture that disservices society.

Look Pretty and Say as Little as Possible


Jukebox musicals as a genre, not just with Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again, receive derision for using familiar songs in the stead of plot and meaningful story, though often the genre relies on simpler conflicts that have further development in smaller scenes. Trolls is a Hero’s Journey set to a bubblegum pop playlist, with a simple romance plot sewn in, not really challenging the audience because it recognizes itself as escapist entertainment primarily targeted at children that adults can sing along to. Moulin Rouge is just La Boheme with recognizable hits replacing the original score and replacing the themes with easier, not as challenging stories of love conquering all but death, but being bright and fast-moving, entertaining as a roller coaster, as that was it’s intent.

When the intent is to entertain, it becomes more difficult to critique the work on its noble artistic merit, because the artist will admit that they weren’t looking to turn the world on its heel with their work, but provide a moment’s distraction or escape from the harsh realities of their lives. A sometimes noble intent (unless the distraction is intended to purposefully obfuscate wrongdoing and mistreatment, such as the extravaganzas of the Roman Empire), but it leaves the critic with a limited set of tools to work with, to critique the craft of the film, the performances and casting, and skill of the director while more artistic fare will bear forgiveness of missteps given that the message and theme is considered worthy of the “Artiste” label.

The downside for the Entertainer, of course, much as in the story of Updike and King, is that they fear they’ll never be taken seriously or respected, not as an Artiste, but simply as an artist and creator. Whether Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again ends up fizzling out at the box office or hitting above 400% profit worldwide will not likely garner critical respect for director Ol Parker, but will likely garner a bit of money, and possibly some job security given that the film performs well enough.

In the end, the Entertainer is at the whim of the public, and whether said public wants two hours of escape from the world outside. Given the current state of affairs, it’ll at least make its budget back.


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