Wednesday, 3 January 2001

RANTING & RAVING

Is film criticism dead?

In a moment where many critics are complaining loudly that 2000 was an unusually poor year at the movies -- an idea with which I strongly disagree -- it occurred to me to reflect of the state of criticism. After all, for all the complaining, there are 19 films that have done more than $100 million at the domestic box office and another 26 that have done over $50 million. Neither number is a record, but both numbers suggest that big movies continue to roam the earth and to draw bigger and bigger crowds every year. We haven’t had a year with fewer than fifteen $100 million films since 1996. We never had a year with any more than twelve $100 million films before that.

So what does this have to do with film criticism?

The Grinch, Mission: Impossible 2, Dinosaur, The Klumps, The Patriot, Gone in 60 Seconds, Me, Myself & Irene, Unbreakable, Scream 3, Hollow Man, The Kid, Rules of Engagement, The Cell, Mission to Mars, Coyote Ugly, 102 Dalmatians, Final Destination, and The Road to El Dorado were pretty much dismissed by "the critics," yet all these films did over $50 million. Of the other 27 films to pass that mark, only Chicken Run, Cast Away, Erin Brockovich, Meet the Parents, and Gladiator could be said to be critics’ favorites. And of those five, only Cast Away and Erin Brockovich really seem to have gotten much of a boost from critics, even if the two films coincidentally feature the two biggest movie stars in the world.

Interestingly, major box-office talent drove only eighteen of the forty-five $50 million-plus films of 2000. That’s three Mel Gibsons, three Bruce Willises, two Jim Carreys, and one each from Drew Barrymore/Cameron Diaz, Nic Cage, Tom Cruise, Clint Eastwood, Harrison Ford, Tom Hanks, Martin Lawrence, Eddie Murphy, Julia Roberts, and Denzel Washington. (Denzel almost had two, but I’m not counting The Hurricane as a 2000 film, but rather as a 1999 film... Oscar rules.) But I digress...

It is not untrue that "we" really aren’t in charge here. And maybe we never were. But it certainly seems that, in the Golden Age of the early 1970s, critics made a real impact, as they subtly guided audiences to the films that were important to see.

So what happened?

The first huge change was Siskel & Ebert, in all their many incarnations. At first, it seems like a reflection of America’s interest in cinema, with all the upside of a nation actually paying attention to a serious conversation about film between two men who were not "television friendly." I know that I was watching them before I got to high school, before we got cable, before the 1/2-inch VCR.

Then PBS had a hit. Then the Tribune Corporation monitized the conversation. And then Disney.

For the first time, the movie critics were bigger celebrities than most of the movie stars they were covering. Both Roger and Gene chose Nashville as their film of the year in 1975, the year "Sneak Preview" started. None of the stars of that film have lasted as long as the two critics. Robert Altman’s career has had highs and lows, but his "Q" rating is surely less than half of that of either Gene or Roger.

As the Siskel & Ebert phenomena grew, the celebrity of other critics grew as well. There had always been a feeling that American outlets which indulged strong critical voices were a level above. A Pauline Kael or an Andrew Sarris or a Judith Crist was not a cash center, but they were a symbol of your seriousness as a media outlet. If a television news show had someone talking about movies, they were doing criticism, not "entertainment journalism."

But suddenly, film criticism was a cash center. Not since the days of the Algonquin Round Table were fortunes being so affected by the stylishly turned phrase of people whose primary skills came from commenting on the work of others. Movie critics could draw an audience and thus, all the rules of television started to creep past the rules of criticism.

Something else happened in 1975 that changed film criticism forever. Jaws.

Jaws, followed by Star Wars two years later, signaled the start of the tentpole mentality of the film business. The idea that a movie could make $200 million in North America in its first run changed the economics of the business forever. And this was a legitimate national phenomenon. When Star Wars ended up on the cover of Time magazine, it was the exception to the cover rule. It was a symbol of something real. But for the first time, on a national level, the bottom line was as much a part of the story as the quality of the movie.

Siskel & Ebert hadn’t changed their style or their opinions. But the business of commenting on the business of movies was changing in the corner offices of media outlets. Criticism, though, was still a viable pursuit. The iconography of a big furry mustache, whether on NBC or ABC, became as important, if not more important, than what the critic had to say. Nonetheless, it was still criticism.

By the time Batman arrived in 1989, the video revolution was in full swing. The movie business had approached the idea of home video with enormous caution, fearful of the effect of video on box-office grosses. But time told that the bottom line was actually improved by home video and that the studios got a bigger piece of the gross income from the sale of tapes. Do the Right Thing was Number One on both Siskel & Ebert’s lists. (Amusingly, Roger & Me was Gene’s Number Two.)

Besides having a then-record opening weekend of $42.7 million, Batman would end up changing the face of the film business in another way. The film, which opened on June 23, was in video stores before November 23, just five months later. Batman had $200 million in its coffer in six weeks. But in 19 more weekends of release, it would manage only $51 million more. Star Wars had played in first run for more than a year. With the shortening of the release window, that kind of run was over.

So what does this have to do with film criticism?

PAGE TWO: Batman, Knowles & Quote Whoring Arrives