October 22, 2002

Why?

I find myself lingering on that question quite often lately.  Not in the broader, more important sense.  Why have I become a film critic?  Why do I continue to linger in this business?  How did this get to be my calling?  And are any of us worth a good God damn?

The final question is, of course, rhetorical crap.  Many film critics are worth a good God damn and quite a lot more.  After four or five years of taking myself seriously as a part of that group, grousing all the way, I have no excuses left.  I am not an innocent.  I am not so blinded by my career ambitions that I cannot see myself in the mirror.  And my critical facilities are sharp enough to either slice through a thick cut of quality meat or to quickly and humanely cut the throat of a film that needs to be put out of its misery.  Like an athlete, I see the game in slower motion now… I can enjoy and deconstruct at the same time.

So what do I do with these skills?   And why do I actually feel a responsibility to the work, to the form, and to the future?  I’m a guy who watches movies and tells people what I think… what’s the big freaking deal?!?!?

I was brought back to it again by a fellow movie writer.  He was going on about our only responsibility was to be like the guy standing around the water cooler after seeing the new movie and telling his pals what he thought.  And I thought to myself, “If I really thought that little of myself and my job, I would be embarrassed to take money to do it and I’d much rather be working some other job.”  Of course, the silent truth that he didn’t acknowledge is that to be doing this job, you must think that people want to hear what you have to say standing around that water cooler.  Ego is the missing piece of the critical puzzle.  We all know it.  But generally, we keep the secret.

A guy like Anthony Lane… wonderful writer… horrible film critic.  And he acknowledges as much, unintentionally, with his new book.  The reviews he chooses for the book are mostly of terrible films.  Lane, of course, skewers them with great élan.  But where is the joy of that?  What is the point?  Why would a film critic ever want to bother his readers with a regurgitation of his least valuable reviews… since very few negative reviews – and basically, all Lane reviews – do nothing but inform the reader that you hate the film and that you would prefer they not see it, ever.   When Roger Ebert delivered “I Hated, Hated, Hated This Movie,” it was not only an obvious counterpoint to his other books, but it was his 20something-ith book. 

There has to be more.  And every day, I seem to be coming closer to the answer.  At least, for myself.  I think my experience in Miami had a lot to do with clarifying my sense of purpose in this game.  It reminded me of my power and my vulnerability.  It reminded me how looking the other way for a second was not only unsafe for me, but for anyone who was on the wrong side of my keyboard.  I made a choice to leave the column, to a great degree, and later, I made the decision to return.  Why?

Around me, I see the work of the critic, which I dismissed in my youth with the arrogance and ease of a child, falling lower and lower.  The excuses, on our side, are always the same.  “Movies are getting worse and worse.”  “This industry doesn’t care.”  “Those guys were just making a bad movie, getting away with what they could.”  Because we allow ourselves these cheap judgments, we are free to let our writing get worse and worse, to not care and to get away with what we can.  It makes me sick to my stomach.

Manohla Dargis recently joined the Los Angeles Times and it might be the worst hire in the history of modern mainstream newspapers… not because Manohla is not a compelling, intelligent, worthy critic.  It’s because any editor who sends Manohla Dargis to Ghost Ship or The Transporter is a moron.  He or she may be a very nice and intelligent moron… but a moron nonetheless.  A review of Ghost Ship by Manohla Dargis has all the value of a review of Cocteau by most members of the junket press.  (Question One: “Do you spell that with a “k”?) 

Manohla Dargis is a hugely valuable part of the critical world.  But she belongs at a desk at an American Cashiers du Cinema, not at the L.A. Times, servicing an audience that is mostly interested in movie start times.  Same with Michael Wilmington.  He is a mad genius and deserves to make $100,000 a year being a genius.  But where?  Where can critics who are serious about the work make enough to own a house anymore?

Which is not to say that more mainstream critics don’t have a place of value.  To my mind’s eye, one main reason why Roger Ebert has become the leading critic of this generation – as one writer pointed out in Toronto, a man more famous than most of the actors he might interview – is that he takes movies very, very seriously, but he also writes like a regular human being.  He does wonderful frame-by-frame analyses of films as special events and classes, but the bulk of his work is meant for mass consumption.  And consume it,they do… not often aware of the carefully thought out ideas that lurk behind the thumb.

And that, as far as I can tell, is Roger.  And their work, as far as I can tell, is Manohla and is Michael and is many others.  For that matter, Lane’s work must represent the heart of Lane as well.  Success in this game has a lot to do with finding your voice and letting it take over your work.  Just being interested in subtext doesn’t make you a “precious” writer.  Mincing words to try to please a master other than yourself does. 

So, in this generation, who is drawn into this bizarre game?  I would break it into three classes that very much fit the talent whose work we cover: the true believer, the star aspirant and the working guy. 

In my opinion, there is no great film critic who is not in the first category, the true believers.  Like actors who are willing to suffer all kinds of humiliations to do what they dream of doing, the True Believers are writing because they really have no choice.  They may not be the most beautiful or the most gifted, but their lives can not go on without indulging their passion.  This group tends to go awry after some degree of success, which is inevitably followed by career envy.  They have too much time to think and dwell on the success of others they do.  But the work, which like any art is not always agreed on by everyone, is first.

The Star Aspirants have taken over the television ranks.  They are willing to put up with the job, as long as they get paid a lot, get their asses kissed a lot and are allowed to think that they are important.  They don’t have the inferiority complex that True Believers suffer because they measure everything quite differently.  They would be just as happy hosting a game show or a talk show or (oooh!) being actors. 

The Working Guys (and Gals) are the largest group in quality and the quietest group there is.  Most of the junket press fits into this group.  When Star Aspirants go to enough junkets, they realize that they had better get out of there quickly, lest they be scarred forever.  And when True Believers hit the circuit, the hissing on both sides quickly overwhelms the value of their presence.    These people make a nice living, have families and realize that as amusing as having a Julia Roberts story to tell at a dinner party might be, the glamour is in the heads of others and all-in-all, it’s a good job, but little more.

So… why?

What has become more and more apparent to me is that we, as critics and reviewers, are unavoidably a part of the system that reigns.  There is no fighting the empire.  Not if you want to be able to pay for groceries.  But what we forget, in our ego, is that the system does not actually require us to live in the black & white world of friend & enemy. 

As critics, we have anointed ourselves as members of the class that discusses things.  Our ideas are not The Answer.  Our job is… our job must be… to start the conversation.  We must break our self-created shackles and regain perspective.  We can make a difference.  We can make a real difference.  And that starts with reaching one person at a time… not a million.  What we all see so clearly about the film business is true for us also.

When you start making franchises, your business is no longer about commercial art, but about commerce alone.

Being more bitter doesn’t make it art… it just makes it bitter.

Ivory towers are not the best place to meet people, but not everyone is meant for mass consumption.  Not knowing the difference in your work is usually the source of the greatest disaster.

If you forget that your work is for real flesh-and-blood human beings, you will fail.  If you forget that you are a real flesh-and-blood human being, you will fail.

One more thing has really struck me lately… the crap exists and will always exist.  We can’t stop it and we can’t fix it.  But if we love film, we must make our lives about the good stuff, not the crap.  Infants will play with their own feces.  Lots of fun.  But what is the upside?  Where is the win?

Personally, I am frustrated by the knowledge that I cannot demand more of some of my colleagues.  Try convincing a critic that he or she doesn’t really know anything about directing – other than “I know what I like” – and you will die with a tired jaw and no satisfactory result. 

I have been critical of A.O. Scott in the past and I still am, quite often.  But I’ll be damned if he isn’t improving weekly and finding a passion for the work – finally! – that Elvis Mitchell seems to have left behind somewhere.  Of course, Stephen Holden is the best full-time critic at the New York Times these days.  But my point is that A.O. (Tony) does not hold a candle to Elvis in terms of knowledge of film or experience writing film criticism.  But he has started to catch up because he seems to be evolving into a True Believer, while Elvis seems to be falling backwards into being a Star Aspirant with extraordinary style.  Holden is winning because he is a Working Guy who leans far more heavily towards T.B. than S.A. 

And that’s my real answer… I’m in it because I am a romantic and I am in love with cinema.  And film.  And movies.  And after these last few years, I am in love with the conversation.  I am in love with you people, who bring your passions to the table and reach for more, whether you are Buffalo Bri who loves seeing naked chests and stuff blowing up or MK-47, who really cares about America’s place in the Cinema Universal. 

Those of us who have the chance to speak to a wider audience than the water cooler… we owe you more than a tossed off, impulsive opinion.  But more importantly, we owe Film more than that.  We owe Film the passion that a David Thomson or a Pauline Kael or even better, someone who actually makes films, brings to the table. 

We cannot keep blaming others when we are not bringing our best selves to the table.  We can’t wait for The System to do “the right thing” before we will get off of our horses, that only seem high when looked at through our personal side show mirrors.  When someone asks you, “What did you do for Film today?,” have a better answer than, “I complained.”  And maybe… just maybe… you’ll find yourself having less to complain about.

READER OF THE DAY:  STILL GRASSY writes:  “On the subject of critics.  I will start off by saying that I love to read, as you obviously do, film criticism.  For me critics generally fall into four catagories.  First there are the critics that I have found to be most  in tune with my tastes and attitudes.  In this group would be Ebert, Sarris, and most of the time A.O. Scott.  Obviously sometimes there are times when these critics praise films that I just don't get(Ebert=Black Hawk Down) and write harshly of films that I adore (Ebert=Rushmore) but mostly these guys are my favorites. 

The next group is critics that I am often infuriated with but their writing is so good it is  impossible to ignore them.  This group contains the usual suspects of Hoberman, Taubin, Rosenbaum and White. 

The third group are critics that are mostly just ok but occasionally can be brilliant.  They include Edelstein, Charles Taylor, Stanley Kauffman and others. 

Finally there are the critics that I despise, not just because of their tastes but because of their overall lack of skills.  These include Peter Travers, Leonard Maltin, Owen Gliberman and most of all Richard Roeper.

Now as for which critics influence box office, unfortunately I believe they all come from the last group.  Take Travers, he writes for Rolling Stone, a magazine that is not only bought but people actually read it.  The same people that buy any album given four stars or higher will automatically go and see any movie that Travers loves.  That bad part is that Travers loves about 20 times as many movies as there are 4 and 5 star albums.  Maltin has two means of influence, he is the critic for Playboy, another widely read publication, and he has that Hot Ticket show.  Owen Gliberman is someone who claims to be interested in the art of cinema but really writes for a promotional rag. 

That leaves us Mr. Roeper.  Some may claim that Ebert is the influential one but not I.  Roeper is the voice of Joe Public and while Ebert is championing small art-house films Roeper is reviewing strictly on an entertainment basis.  He speaks in a language that the average person can relate too and breaks the films down in terms of mass appeal and entertainment.  So when Ebert pans a big budget Hollywood crap, fest Roeper can chime in and save it.  Of course that theory is far from air-tight.  Just in the past year Ebert has praised Tomb Raider and the Fast and the Furious while Roeper has pointed his thumb down.  But in the end, the impact these critics do make is fairly negligible compared to the multi-million dollar marketing campaigns the studios are rolling out these days.  A well-placed story by a publicist and an impressive trailer will always have more influence than any critic.”

E ME:  The ROTD opinions are not necessarily in tune with my own. 

However, let me say this about Richard Roeper.  I like him.  I was reminded once again in Toronto… I enjoy Richard’s company.  We spent an hour or so together at a party and I found him intelligent, engaging, good company.  My objection to him, as a critic, is the same as it always is… he’s a Star Aspirant, not a True Believer.  If I felt he was a True Believer, all would be forgiven… well, most.  I am sorry that I have made him uncomfortable in this column in the past.  But he didn’t take the job… it was given to him.  And as I’ve written before, maybe a True Believer is not good TV anymore.  (Or at least, no more than one on any single show.)  But let’s say that today is Day One… Richard is hardly the only critic in America who doesn’t have the passion for Film.  He can lead and I wish he would.  But there are greater villains out there… far greater.  I don’t see any nefarious agenda… just a lack of the passion that fuels my engine,  And obviously, Still Grassy’s.

Tomorrow, some of the great letters about actresses of the past and actresses of today.  Feel free to add to the pile.  But I doubt anyone is going to top the detailed love letter to Emily Watson’s hips.