Q&A

If you’ll excuse a snooty generalization, promoting dialogue among artists is a good thing. That said, we’ve got to come up with something better than the proverbial Q&A.

If you’ve ever stuck around after an advance showing of a film or play, you probably know what I’m talking about. Some writer, director or actor sits on a stool while the least intelligent people in the room hurl inane questions. The typical Q&A is arranged like a firing squad and about as comfortable to watch.

The most obnoxious moments occur when some misdirected soul begs the artist to read their script or give them an audition. The rest of us squirm in our seats and resent the questioner’s lack of tact and the fact that we all want to ask the same thing. Other moments transcend awkward to reach the level of theater of the absurd. During a Q&A with Oliver Stone at the University of Iowa, one student asked the director: Did he like Ween? Did Woody Harelson like Ween? Does the director have any plans to work with Ween? This line of questioning continued until the student’s microphone was turned off.

Just as out of place, though less entertaining, are those whose "questions" are just grandstanding to show off how much they know. These questions generally last several minutes and include references to things like mis ‘en scene, lesser-known films by Goddard and recent New Yorker articles. When the question finally ends, there are a few moments of silence before the person on the stool asks, "I’m sorry, what was your question?"

But the assholes aren’t only to be found in the crowd – many times they sit on the stool. I certainly understand that sitting up there and suffering the questions of what are often fools is no pleasant task. But if you’re going to bother to show up it should be for some higher purpose than to convince a roomful of fans what a cocky jerk you are.

On the other end of the spectrum is the guy on the stool who nobody wants to talk to. I think the best way to avoid that is not to overestimate your intellectual cache. I’ve been to uber amateur 10-minute plays that ended with a Q&A. Why? Did these well-meaning folks honestly believe that my mind would be so blown in those ten minutes that I would want to discuss it for an hour? Often, these type of events are organized by people who think too highly of themselves and have produced a steaming pile of crap. And I feel it would be poor etiquette to ask "why was your film/play/whatever so terrible?"

In fact, etiquette is the rope that binds me to these events in the first place. Somewhere in my polite Midwestern circuitry, I’m hard wired to believe it would be rude to just get up and leave. Instead, I remain in my seat with teeth and fists clenched praying for it all to be over.

And the truth is, for all the banality of the Q&A, there is almost always at least one insightful comment, be it from the artist or the gallery. At one recent event, playwright Craig Lucas said he never allows anyone to loiter around the stage/set unless they are watching the actors. He feels they throw off the energy of the performances. That clicked with me – something I’ve been aware of but never crystalized into thought. That is a Q&A at its best. Unfortunately, those moments tend to be few and far between.

The spirit of the Q&A is right on, but I just don’t think it plays out in practice. I’ve been to sessions with artists I greatly admire, but I don’t have anything to ask them. I’m not so baffled by the minutia of their technique as I am dazzled by the whole of their achievement. If you actually had the chance to sit down with Bob Dylan, what would you really ask except "how come you’re so fucking good?"

I don’t know what the alternative is, so let’s just look for a way to connect artists and aspiring artists that doesn’t involve a stool.