It's not art if it doesn't make you cry.
This silly rule of thumb was recently cited by a prominent book critic when asked about the artistic merit of Xbox 360 first-person shooter “BioShock.”
A Saturday, Sept. 15 column by Washington Post technology writer Mike Musgrove chronicles his visit to Michael Dirda, a fellow Post staffer and Pulitzer Prize-winning literary critic. Musgrove brought Dirda a copy of “BioShock,” briefly acquainted him with the controls and let the 58-year-old game novice spend several hours navigating Rapture, the game's underwater urban setting.
Then Musgrove asked for his thoughts. After expressing his frustration at failing to progress past an early level boss, Dirda addressed the game's status as art - or lack thereof.
Musgrove wrote, “When there's a video game that makes the player depressed, that's when the medium might be onto something as an art form, Dirda said.”
Dirda's rationale invites one to inquire whether films that fail to sadden its audiences are still art. By this logic, “Dr. Strangelove” isn't art but “The Notebook” is.
I will go no further delineating the absurdity of Dirda's suggestion: That certain works within a medium are disqualified from consideration as art while others within the same medium are deemed art because they depress an audience.
But perhaps Dirda is saying that when one work of the medium makes the player depressed, it reflects on the artistic merit of the medium as a whole.
If only one sorrowful game will persuade you that games are art, then play “Kingdom Hearts.” I dare you, Mr. Dirda, not to feel the slightest bit depressed as Donald and Goofy are forced to abandon their friend Sora when Riku steals his Keyblade.
Or take “Final Fantasy VII” for a spin and try not to tear up when Sephiroth slays Aerith.
The case is open and shut like a disc tray.
Although Dirda's criterion collapses on itself, it is downright robust in comparison to film critic Roger Ebert's contention that games do not rise to the status of art because, “Video games by their nature require player choices, which is the opposite of the strategy of serious film and literature, which requires authorial control.”
Ebert's statement casts games as open-ended, anarchic and akin to “choose your own adventure” books.
In fact, almost all video games progress toward a singular plot outcome determined by the author - or rather, designer.
The choices the player makes are strategic and, most often, inconsequential to that outcome. Mario can stomp on Goombas or knock them out with a Koopa shell, but he will save Princess Peach regardless.
Their anemic logic notwithstanding, Dirda's and Ebert's dictums are as arbitrary and subjective as any other “rule” used to determine what is art and what is not.
In 1917, Marcel Duchamp purchased a urinal, laid it flat, scrawled 'R. Mutt' on its surface and submitted it to an art show. And the work is not only widely accepted as art, it was recently named the most influential work of the 20th century.
But why is that piece of curved porcelain art? Because Duchamp said so, basically.
Today, many players would say that video games are also art. And why? Because, to begin with, they can depress much more than the tips of your thumbs.
Staff writer David Wilcox reviews video games for The Citizen. He can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 245 or david.wilcox@lee.net
A Saturday, Sept. 15 column by Washington Post technology writer Mike Musgrove chronicles his visit to Michael Dirda, a fellow Post staffer and Pulitzer Prize-winning literary critic. Musgrove brought Dirda a copy of “BioShock,” briefly acquainted him with the controls and let the 58-year-old game novice spend several hours navigating Rapture, the game's underwater urban setting.
Then Musgrove asked for his thoughts. After expressing his frustration at failing to progress past an early level boss, Dirda addressed the game's status as art - or lack thereof.
Musgrove wrote, “When there's a video game that makes the player depressed, that's when the medium might be onto something as an art form, Dirda said.”
Dirda's rationale invites one to inquire whether films that fail to sadden its audiences are still art. By this logic, “Dr. Strangelove” isn't art but “The Notebook” is.
I will go no further delineating the absurdity of Dirda's suggestion: That certain works within a medium are disqualified from consideration as art while others within the same medium are deemed art because they depress an audience.
But perhaps Dirda is saying that when one work of the medium makes the player depressed, it reflects on the artistic merit of the medium as a whole.
If only one sorrowful game will persuade you that games are art, then play “Kingdom Hearts.” I dare you, Mr. Dirda, not to feel the slightest bit depressed as Donald and Goofy are forced to abandon their friend Sora when Riku steals his Keyblade.
Or take “Final Fantasy VII” for a spin and try not to tear up when Sephiroth slays Aerith.
The case is open and shut like a disc tray.
Although Dirda's criterion collapses on itself, it is downright robust in comparison to film critic Roger Ebert's contention that games do not rise to the status of art because, “Video games by their nature require player choices, which is the opposite of the strategy of serious film and literature, which requires authorial control.”
Ebert's statement casts games as open-ended, anarchic and akin to “choose your own adventure” books.
In fact, almost all video games progress toward a singular plot outcome determined by the author - or rather, designer.
The choices the player makes are strategic and, most often, inconsequential to that outcome. Mario can stomp on Goombas or knock them out with a Koopa shell, but he will save Princess Peach regardless.
Their anemic logic notwithstanding, Dirda's and Ebert's dictums are as arbitrary and subjective as any other “rule” used to determine what is art and what is not.
In 1917, Marcel Duchamp purchased a urinal, laid it flat, scrawled 'R. Mutt' on its surface and submitted it to an art show. And the work is not only widely accepted as art, it was recently named the most influential work of the 20th century.
But why is that piece of curved porcelain art? Because Duchamp said so, basically.
Today, many players would say that video games are also art. And why? Because, to begin with, they can depress much more than the tips of your thumbs.
Staff writer David Wilcox reviews video games for The Citizen. He can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 245 or david.wilcox@lee.net
