Episode 6: THE BAY-HERZOG SCALE
[OUTSIDE]
We are standing outside the Vue cinema in Lancaster.
It’s not that old, but it is already looking a bit tired. I once watched an entire film with a slight tear in the screen and, oddly, that is all I can remember about the film.
How did the tear get there? Did someone throw something with enough force at the screen? How much force would that take? What sort of projectile would you use?
And, perhaps, more importantly, was the film they watched bad enough to cause such a violent reaction to a neutral surface?
We have just watched Prometheus. The sort of sequel/Prequel/Franchise lengthener to the film Alien.
Ant is furious about it.
He can’t even articulate his anger. He just leans against the wall and rolls up a cigarette.
Which bit triggered the reaction? Maybe it was the part where Noomi Rapace runs away from a crashing spaceship by running along the path it is falling… as if she could outrun a crashing megalith, as if she could outrun gravity, as if she could outrun physics.
She does, by the way, survive. I know, spoilers, but I feel such a superhuman feat should be celebrated.
Or maybe it was the part where the geologist gets lost. Or the bit where the biologist sticks his naked face right in front of an unknown organism that the linguistics expert has just told him the writing on the walls pretty much warns against.
Later, once he has stewed and mulled his anger, Ant articulates it. The problem was more holistic than that, the problem was that, unlike the original Alien film, the horror here was happening to the characters on screen, but not the audience.
[AMMIT]
I’m standing outside the gates of the afterlife.
This place is incredibly old, but looks remarkably well kept.
I have to wonder how they acquired so much marble. Is there an equivalent of dead marble, or do they import it from the living world? Who, exactly, are the architects and builders of this place?
Sadly, the Egyptian Book of the Dead doesn’t explain this, which is odd because it explains pretty much everything else in vivid detail. Think of it as a comprehensive guidebook to what to expect once you depart the earthly realm.
The main point is that you will be judged.
However, you should also expect bureaucracy.
Upon dying, I have been ushered into the Hall of Maat, where I am to meet 42 assessors, and where I am expected to greet each one by name, proving that administration transcends all realms of being.
[ASSESSMENT]
Here, in brief, are all 42 assessors and the sins they are here to assess.
“Far-Strider” — Falsehood
“Fire-Embracer” — Robbery
“Nosey One” — Stealing
“Swallower of Shades” — Murder
“Dangerous One” — Stealing grain
“Double Lion” — Prolonging offerings
“Fiery Eyes” — Stealing Gods property
“Flame” — Lying
“Bone Breaker” — Taking food
“Green of Flame” — Cursing
“You of the Cavern” — Adultery
“White of Teeth” — Causing tears
Shezmu — Killing a sacred bull
“Eater of Entrails” — Stealing land
“Lord of Truth” — Eavesdropping
“Wanderer” — Complaints
“Pale One” — Being angry
“Doubly Evil” — Adultery
"Wememty-Snake” — Adultery
“See Whom You Bring” — Polluting the body
“Over the Old One” — Terrorising
“Demolisher” — Transgressing
“Disturber” — Being hot-tempered
“Youth” — Unhearing of truth
“Foreteller” — Making disturbance
“You of the Altar” — Violence
“Face Behind Him” — copulating with a boy
“Hot-Foot” — Transgression
“You of the Darkness” — Quarrelling
“Bringer of Your Offerings” — Unduly active
“Owner of Faces” — Impatience
“Accuser” — damaging a god's image
“Owner of Horns” — Volubility of speech
Nefertem — Wrongdoing
Temsep — Conjuration against the king
“You Who Acted Willfully” — Stopping water flow
“Water-Smiter” — Being loud voiced
“Commander of Mankind” — Reviling God
Nehebkau — Doing bad things
“Bestower of Powers” — Making distinctions For self
“Serpent With Raised Head” — dishonest wealth
“Serpent Who Brings and Gives” — Blasphemy
I am acutely aware, your honour, that I may have indulged in some of these sins. Sometimes more than once, and perhaps often in combination with other sins.
Fortunately, that isn’t the real test here.
The real test is that you get everyone’s name correct, and I think I have done that.
I’m surprised that “Nosey One” isn’t in charge of the sin of eavesdropping. I think he may have been passed over for a much deserved promotion.
Perhaps I did call “Face Behind Him”, “Dave” by accident as we stood at the water cooler during one of the break out sessions. He reminded me of someone I knew during my living years, and we had started talking about that film, Prometheus…
[STARS]
In Prometheus, the crew venture into the stars, crossing space in response to an invitation found carved on a wall. The notion of stars plays a small subtextual role in the film.
“It’s in your stars” is often used to mean, “it is your fate”. It is something out of your hands or your control. It is the agency of some greater force.
On IMDB, Prometheus has a star rating of 7.0. That’s rather impressive.
However, what is really interesting is if you read the viewer reviews that the aggregate score is based on. There are endless one and two star ratings, ensconced in fives and sixes.
So how did it get a 7.0?
There are a number of 10 star ratings. A rating presumably reserved for the best films of cinematic history. For those perfect confections that cannot be improved in any way.
And most of these ten star reviews have a them. The reviewer explains that whilst the film is probably a 7 or even an 8, they feel the need to correct the aggregate score by adding a couple of points to theirs.
They are not reviewing the film, they are not critiquing the film, they are criticising the system under which it is reviewed and they are trying to fix it.
[SCALE]
Later on we gathered in the pub.
Many entertainment establishments miss a trick here. Watching a thing is only part of the night. Sitting around and talking about the thing you have watched is really what the audience enjoys most.
I say this looking at every theatre in the UK that closes their bar about 15 minutes after a show ends. You are not serving your audiences. Literally and metaphorically.
Anyhow, I can’t remember who coined the phrase, only that I was there.
Also present, Alex, Andy, Ant, Daragh, Eddie and Paul.
Good vs Bad is not a great scale for assessing films. It misses something. Sometimes a film can be a great bad film, or a terribly dull good film. A lot depends on the viewer and what they need from a film on any given occasion.
You only have to see the fondness that people have for B-movies. Something easy-going, fun, and not too self-aware. Something that doesn’t take itself too seriously, not expects that you take it equally as such.
It’s more about fitness for the situation than it is about an objective rating.
It was this line of thinking that led to the creation of the Bay-Herzog scale.
On one end of the scale, the films of Michael Bay (Bad Boys, Transformers) and on the other end of the scale the works of German film maker Werner Herzog (Fitz Carraldo, Heart of Glass).
The scale determines where the action happens.
At the Bay end of the Bay-Herzog scale, the action happens on screen. Explosions, movement, rapid dialogue and action. This all happens on screen but the audience member remains fundamentally unchanged when they leave the cinema.
Meanwhile at the Herzog end of the Bay-Herzog scale, the action is almost missing from the screen. Long shots of not much happening. Silence and static cameras. However, the action happens in the audience. When they leave the cinema, they are fundamentally changed.
[WEIGHTING]
Very little is happening now.
Anubis, the jackal-headed caretaker of the underworld, is holding my heart in one hand, and in the other is the feather of Maat.
Maat is both the goddess and the personification of cosmic balance and justice. She represents the ethical and moral principles that all Egyptian citizens were expected to follow throughout their daily lives.
The feather of Maat is an ostrich feather she wears in her hair. It is said to represent the truth.
We watch as Anubis slowly walks over to a comically large set of scales in the middle of the hall.
The assessors exchange glances.
From studying the Book of the Dead, I know that my heart is about to be weighed against the feather. If I have lived a pure life, my heart will be lighter.
The fact that I know that isn’t going to happen is what gives this scene so much weight. I know what I’ve done. The assessors know what I’ve done.
Yet we await the visual confirmation.
And I’m left thinking, does the good outweigh the bad? If someone gave me a one star review, would another ten star review make it better? Would it average out? Or is it a permanent mark that no averaging out will make my heart lighter?
[SPACE]
After much time spent wondering about the scale, one of the key factors is space. That is, space for your audience, space for them to inhabit the world and reflect upon it.
In Bay’s mode of film-making, every moment is used. Every line of dialogue is propelling narrative, or at least avoiding silence.
There is little space to insert yourself. An average shot length lasts 3 seconds.
Meanwhile Herzog’s clock in at 25 seconds.
It’s important to note that it isn’t just about the shot length though. Christopher Nolan’s Inception still manages to make room for the audience despite a rapid 3 seconds.
Meanwhile some of Michael Bay’s longer shots still block the audience from inserting themselves. One way he achieves this is by his famous spinning pan that centres on a character.
You see this as you orbit Will Smith in Bad Boys, and Josh Hartnett in Pearl Harbour.
Space allows for a collaboration between the maker and the audience. Much like stopping to listen in a conversation.
In this case the audience is placed on a fairground ride and spun around by their necks. It’s hard to contemplate things on a waltzer with someone constantly screaming in your ear.
[THEATRE]
Theatre reviews are a wonderful microcosm of tact and marketing.
In large part this is because of who the reviewers are. In many cases they are theatre students, hoping, one day, to get jobs in the industry making their own work. It’s not that smart to create a sour reputation for yourself by slating the work of your future peers and potential colleagues.
They have to learn to write between the lines.
Or maybe they have been given a ticket for free. A bribe of a night out in order to write some words. It’s hard, in the moment, to be mean about a group of people you’ve sat and had a drink with after their show.
Besides, it’s generally accepted that people reviewing theatre like theatre, and as such want to be supportive.
That’s why we use the five star scale and a four star centre.
Perhaps it is best to look at the reviews on posters at the Edinburgh Fringe to understand this.
Every show is rated 4 stars. That’s because nearly every reviewer has given every show 4 stars.
5 stars is too bombastic. The best thing you’ve ever seen? No weaknesses? No room for improvement? Perfect performances? Perfect sets? Perfect writing?
No, you can’t give anything 5 stars. To do so would lead to accusations of subjectivity, or worse, bias.
Similarly, 3 stars is just average. No one is going to publicise your review if you give them an average review. Your name won’t appear on their poster.
And so 4 stars it is. Everything gets 4 stars.
But what if you don’t get 4 stars? Maybe you struggle to entice a reviewer? Maybe your reviewer has had a pang of conscience and just can’t bring themselves to give you the same rating they gave to a show they saw last night… the one that changed them as a person, forever?
It’s OK, all you have to do is ask “Audience Member”.
“Audience Member” has been handing out 4 star reviews since the dawn of theatre. They don’t do it for the glory of seeing their name in print, they do it because they must, absolutely, tell you that the show is 4 stars.
“Audience Member” isn’t their real name, by the way. It’s more like the Mask of Zorro. It gets handed down, protecting the person from any real scrutiny. Once they have given their review, the mask comes off and they can go about being a normal citizen again.
Often, that normal citizen happens to be a member of the host organisation marketing team, or perhaps a member of the extended production team.
Sometimes, it is just a helpless audience member as they are trying to leave the show.
Grabbed.
Can you tell us what you thought?
Pleading eyes, slight hint of desperation. You don’t want to disappoint. Maybe they wrote this?
Sure, you say, it was good.
What would you give it, out of five?
Err… four, I guess.
The ambush is over and the poster is already being made.
“The lighting is brilliant, four stars”
[JUDGEMENT]
Osiris stands by the great doors to the afterlife of Sekhet-Aaru.
As the scales tip, he scratches something down in the ledger. A soft shake of the head. It looks a little like pity.
I have been reviewed. It’s not good.
My heart is not pure.
The doors close.
I am shepherded, somewhat reluctantly, towards Ammit.
The goddess Ammit is the ancient Egyptian equivalent of a cut-and-shut Volvo with the forequarters of a lion, the hindquarters of a hippopotamus, and the head of a crocodile.
The crocodile is grinning.
In a last attempt I do what everyone does. I plead.
I explain that sure, I might not be the best, or purest human, but that, actually, some people rather liked me, when they were in the mood for it. I wasn’t good, but I was enjoyable on occasion.
Ammit quietly says that everyone says that.
Then I start to criticise the system itself. I complain that there is no way a heart is ever lighter than a feather, and that we should add a stone to that side of the scale to even things out.
Ammit quietly says that everyone says that too.
[MICHELIN]
A restaurant’s business can be dramatically altered by gaining or losing a Michelin star.
They were originally designed to get more people driving because more people driving would lead to more people needing tires and the Michelin brothers were in the business of selling tires.
That’s why the three star system ranks restaurants by how far you should travel to visit them.
1 Star = High-quality cooking, worth a stop (Cuisine de qualité, mérite une halte)
2 Stars = Excellent cooking, worth a detour (Cuisine excellente, mérite un détour)
3 Stars = Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey (Une des meilleures cuisine, vaut le voyage).
In total there are 3,483 stars handed out across the world.
In his expose book, L'Inspecteur se met à table (The Inspector Sits Down at the Table), Pascal Rémy, a former Michelin Inspector (of restaurants, not tires), talks about the life of a man destined to travel around, eating food and rating restaurants.
He described a life of low paid routine and drudgery, coupled with immense pressure, strict rules and very few friends.
He also suggested that the guide was subject to some less than honest reviews.
And, whilst gaining a star can do wonders for business, it can also be a curse. Customer expectations go up accordingly. Increased demand, not only for seats, but for quality, can turn a dream job in a nice restaurant into a trial for a chef.
Chef Julio Biosca even went as far as asking the guide to revoke the star that it gave his restaurant in 2009.
I’m thinking about this as I sit down to eat.
This is my first time in a restaurant with any sort of star rating that isn’t just related to basic hygiene.
The food was delightful. A series of plates, almost architectural in scope, consisting of tiny elements that lean into each other. Flavours I had never tasted, textures that came from nowhere to usurp expectations.
A lot of wine.
It was a brilliant experience.
But it was missing something. I was still hungry, and not only hungry, but in need of something missing from those plates.
I went home and ordered a filthy takeaway pizza.
It was glorious.
[AVERAGE SHOT LENGTH]
Michael Bay’s Transformers, 3.2 seconds.
Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, 7 seconds.
Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, 433.9 seconds
Richard Linklater’s Slacker, 31.1 seconds.
Werner Herzog’s Grizzly Man, 24.4 seconds.
Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, 13 seconds.
Olivier Megaton’s Taken 2, 1.6 Seconds
Marc Forster’s World War Z, 2.5 seconds
[LIVE]
The Bay-Herzog scale is applicable to most art forms.
Looking a Live Art and Theatre, we can see that works which tend to the Bay end of the scale are often tech-focussed, firework-like shows, which are much more about creating spectacle.
It can also cover shows where a performer is using the stage for their own catharsis, perhaps to tell their story. Here, the action happens on the stage, although the audience may leave fundamentally unchanged.
On the Herzog side of the scale there tends to be slower works such as durational performances and installation which incorporate ambiguity and periods of silence.
This creates space for the audience to insert themselves into the work and whilst little may be happening on the stage, it is often carried out of the room by the audience.
Of course there is nuance here, you can find works that should be at the Bay end of the scale that haunt audiences long after they have gone home, or where the change happens outside of the space or at a later date. Similarly, there are Herzog-end works that are just slow and dull and perhaps carry no meaning at all.
No one scale can be used to describe a work. It's folly to think so.
[JUDGEMENT]
And I’m not saying that where a work falls on a scale means that is good or bad.
That sort of scale, like the five stars of theatre, is a nonsense.
Are you telling me that you wouldn’t want to go and see a show that got zero stars? Not even out of curiosity? Is there anything that is unredeemable?
Likewise, a show that gets five stars must be perfect. Is there even such a thing as a perfect show?
Besides, sometimes you don’t want fine dining. Sometimes you want a takeaway, something fast and lacking nuance.
It doesn’t have to sustain you to be enjoyable.
And if I’m pushed I’d say Michael Bay understands this more than anyone working in film. He is providing for a need and filling a niche.
Fast film.
So fast that once you sit down the wrapper is pulled off for you and the food is mushed into your face without you having to spend the time or energy lifting it to your mouth.
It feels glorious.
[AMAZON]
Amazon is involved in a battle. A very modern war.
It is fighting fake reviews, but not too hard.
An entire industry of review brokers has formed in the last five years. These brokers approach customers directly through websites, social media channels, and encrypted messaging services, soliciting them to write fake reviews in exchange for money, free products, or other incentives.
You’ve probably been contacted by them. A slip of paper asking for a review alongside a slightly unrelated product?
They are trying to enlist you.
In some cases blackmail has even been tried. Pay us money or we flood your products with poor reviews.
It’s hell out there.
The reason I bring this up is that there are now rules that define what you can and cannot do with reviews on Amazon.
I suspect these could be applied to arts reviews too.
1. You Can Still Request Reviews (You Just Can’t Solicit Positive Ones)
Inviting reviewers to see work is fine. The second part is trickier though.
What if everyone only ever invites reviewers they think will give a positive review? That’s a form of subtle solicitation, mostly because it suggests that if you give a negative review you will no longer be invited to review shows.
2. Avoid Bargain Bribes
Free tickets for reviewers. That’s a bribe. If no one will review your work without a free ticket, that’s a racket.
If a reviewer wants to sit there and pretend they represent the views of the audience, they should pay like the audience too.
Sometimes it isn’t even about the money. It’s about being treated specially because you are a reviewer. It’s a bit about ego. You don’t need to pay like these ordinary folk, you are a reviewer!
3. Transparency and Consistency are Key & 4. Do Not Review your Own Products
I’ve put these together as they fall into the same trap.
What is the relationship between the reviewer and the thing being reviewed. Without discussing that, the review becomes subject to scrutiny. It is perfectly fine to review your friend’s work, if you mention that you are friends. It is acceptable to write review copy for the organisation you work for, so long as you are listed as the marketing officer for that organisation, and not just “audience member”.
If you have to obfuscate and lie, then you know what you are doing is dishonest, and who wants to leave dishonest reviews? It doesn’t benefit the work (There’s a whole essay on why telling poor work that it is good might not be the best thing for audiences), but more than that it erodes confidence from your audience.
If you are told this is the best show ever, and that it it is life changing, brave, important, must-see (four stars) and you do go and see and it is average, self-involved and struggling to find any sort of audience, the next time you hear the bombast you think twice. That could mean you miss something really special.
4. No Self Promotion in the Review
This is a tricky line, isn’t it? We want transparency, but we also don’t want you writing a short piece about your own theatre company, and how you would direct this work if it was up to you.
That’s not a review, that’s a pitch.
Maybe, perhaps, you should think twice about writing a review at all. You could write an essay, put the goods up front and talk about process and thought, and leave the whole thing open-ended.
No stars given.
You can still write about the work, you can place it in context, you can relate to it and think about it and what else it makes you think about.
You won’t be limited by 500 words, or a print deadline.
You can pick any show you care to see. Any work at all.
Only talk about the ones where you have something to actually say.
And sometimes not even artwork. You can look at other things like phone boxes, paper stocks, time machines.
Can you hear me?
Adam?
You don’t have to review things to talk about them.
[JUDGEMENT]
I’m winding down the gastric tract of a Goddess.
My soul is slowly being digested.
I’m not sure what tipped the scales. Perhaps I got the names of my assessors wrong? Maybe I spent too much of my life judging others.
I think, if I was to judge myself, I’d find myself guilty of the sin of failing at the one thing I’m supposed to be. Much like the geologist getting lost in Prometheus, or the biologist sticking their face in an unknown organism, I have poked at the notions of art whilst trying to be an artist.
I consider if another scale would have been kinder to me.
And then I realise.
It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter whether I am fine dining or fast food.
It only matters that the Crocodile-hippo-lion-godess is enjoying this moment.
