This is What I Talk About

Much has been written/discussed about the state of contemporary film criticism. There are many reasons for this question being posed so much recently. I trace the beginning to the rash of horror movies that were being released every weekend to great success. Naturally, the critics had an identity crisis because, not surprisingly, they hated the majority of these movies and told people as much, but it didn't matter. It must have been doubly frustrating for a horror movie of exceptional quality (The Descent) to finally be released only to find itself in a market that didn't care anymore.

Perhaps this is the difference. One group waits for the pleasure of quality. The other pleasures itself immediately so when quality comes along, it tastes like everything else.

I digress.

More recent reasons for this discussion are major professional critics leaving (Jonathan Rosenbaum, Chicago Reader; David Ansen, Newsweek) and the abundance of amateur criticism on the internet. These have something to do with one another. But there's plenty about that out there.

So yes, much has been written and I've read most everything. And I got tired of it. And along came Armond White to set the debate ablaze once more. Actually, he's been there, I just hadn't heard of him.

So film criticism: what exactly it its place?

Well, for one thing, it doesn't really have a place. Or at least not an immediate place. I'm sorry, but the aforementioned horror movie inundation proved this. The problem with movies is that admission is cheap. It is! $10 to see a movie. Yes, we complain, we don't want to pay that much and if it wasn't for gas skyrocketing, it would be the only thing I could point at and say, "I remember when movies cost $3.50." Has it stopped me from going? No. Prevented me? On a few occasions. But if I want to see a move in the theater, I'm going to see it in the theater. It's what I do. So critics can't really tell us what we should and shouldn't see. Unless we want to see everything, like I do, and need to be told what is worth seeing and what isn't. But for people who go occasionally, well, who cares? Why would they listen to a critic. You have a cheap meal before or a few drinks afterward and either can make the night bearable if the movie isn't.

Now consider theater. In Chicago, seeing a production for $10, well, unless you can go on an industry night, doesn't happen. Average for a storefront is probably $20. I don't drop $20 lightly. And think of New York City where tickets are even more expensive. That's where critics truly matter and will be voices that are heard. Money talks. It all depends on who it's talking to. In the instance of movies, the money is talking to studios. So they'll let us see exactly what we want to see. In New York, the money is talking to the people who are putting it down. They're going to look to someone they consider an expert to tell them where to invest their money. Say hello to your investment broker, the theater critic.

So should we stop writing film criticism? Well, if the reason we write is to affect box office, yes. Wait...what? Let's not fall into the very trap we bemoan. Just because the money "talks" to the Hollywood producers doesn't mean it's ignoring critics. Yes, people don't listen to critics on opening weekends. But who is to say that they don't listen later when assembling a Netflix queue? And so sorry Mr. White, people just aren't going to intelligently discuss movies on the scale you would hope. We don't live in a time where that can happen. Everything is too niche. In 1939, Gone With the Wind made nearly $200,000,000. Adjusted for inflation, it made over $1 billion. Why? Only thing going in town. And really, Mr. White, do you think everyone in line to see GWTW was really there for intellectual exercise? There's too much out there now for everyone to pay attention to everything. And what happens when public and critical opinion coincide? The Dark Knight anyone? Even if they don't agree with you, Mr. White?

So what type of film criticism should we write? If you ask Mr. White, he's going to tell you there's one kind and one kind only. It's what I've come to think of as Macro-criticism. This places a film in its larger cultural context. Some other critics I would put into this category are Jonathan Rosenbaum and Jim Emerson. I prefer, and Ebert (whom Mr. White takes to task for beginning this trend) writes, Micro-criticism. You take a movie, and you explain why or why it doesn't work. If you see an original VW Bug, you're probably doing a little of both.

What Mr. White does is mistake bias for an absolute. He compares apples to oranges and calls one bad. I'm all for someone being able to place a movie in an immediate cultural context. I simply edit myself too much to be able to speak about something I might be able to define in another 10 years if I'm particularly observant. What's ironic is I often find this type of criticism to miss the emotional impact of a movie exactly as Mr. White finds the oppopiste to be true.

Eash bias has its own faults. I can praise a movie that I find flawed simply because it moved me. Mr. White and I both share a fondness for War of the Worlds. Is it a perfect movie? No, but it swept me up. I couldn't help it. At the same time I'm laughing at some of the dialogue for its horrendousness, I can't deny that I was moved. And in this instance, I can certainly see that it grew out of 9/11.

But where's your excitement, Mr. White? I've seen Shotgun Stories and I love it and when I talk about it with people, I get excited. That's why, I'm sorry, I go to Ebert. And why, most humble apologies, I think he's a great critic. Because he tells me whether he likes a movie and why. You tell me about its cultural relevance, which is awesome, but it doesn't tell me whether I'll like it or not. Sorry.

I guess what I'm trying to say is let's not inflate the importance of film criticism. The 60s and 70s showed us that films aren't going to change the world. But as long as people respond to movies, they will be made, and people will talk about them and critics will lead the way. Movies are an an art form, and there will always be true artists. But in the words of Pauline Kael (did you forget these, Mr. White?), "Movies are so rarely great art that if we cannot appreciate great trash we have very little reason to be interested in them."