A critical post.

As a preliminary note, this entry is not, in fact, designed to be critical of anyone or anything. Except perhaps myself. And a few other people, but it'll all be very out-in-the-open and clear that if I want to tear into someone, I will. And because I won't, I don't want to.

I was wondering on critics and criticism today, and after a while my thoughts honed in on the crux of the matter: just how seriously does one take critics? I mean, are they not people more fortunate than you, in that they are paid for giving opinions which surely are of no more merit or value than your own? It's inconsiderate. It's absurd. In the realm of the subjective, how can one person be right, because that would mean, in simple terms, than another could be wrong. Critics appear to be arrogant by design, for it is only when thinking yourself right, rather than in favour of something, that one transverses the bounds of opinion and enters the objective, where he or she is free to comment on the undeniable state of whatever they are viewing: 'good', 'not good'; 'important', 'unimportant'. States of being, delivered with a finality which seems undeniable. Which one might describe as a masterly illusion, given the subject matter which critics view is never, by definition, set in stone. Fluid and interchangeable are the words generally used to describe reactions to art, film, music, games, food and everything else which I like to simply call 'art' because I see film as the modern equivalent to Fine Art. (Or, at least, good films are.) But then, in the course of the day, we have people espousing their opinions on these very things and making a concise living out of them. If it seems anything, it simply seems unfair, and unavoidable.

I'm a critic myself, though in the democratic sense. I'm not paid for my work, nor am I writing to any real end. I don't have any inherent bias, and I'm not under any obligation to write for anyone except myself. My reviews are never informative; they were once described by a friend of mine as more analyses than reviews as if the person had not yet seen the film they would not have a clue about what I was saying. That comment was given about a year ago and therefore my reviews are slightly more encompassing, but I still write for myself and, well, I've seen the film. There's no reason for me to explain it again. (This is likely to change, however, now that I'm writing them for two other people as well.) But there was a line brought up in a recent article on Jezebel which stated that in reading a review you learn much more about the critic him (or perhaps her) self. Mine are generally in this category: you read them, you learn about me and my outlook in life. The wouldn't be classified with reviews from Empire magazine, they'd be classed with postings from the Empire blog. It's what I do, it's what I'm comfortable with. It's highly and unashamedly opinionated, and never attempts to tell the audience otherwise. And this is where I feel we can draw the line with professional critics. And I think it's indicated by the stars.

The favourite for critics is to have stars at the end of every review, generally out of five. Almost universally these reviews consist of three things: one, a plot summary; two, reasons why no-one should watch or enjoy the film; and three, a summary for everyone on too tight a schedule to read the entire review. These reviews are boring. Seriously, how much love can you take when all the writer is doing, as far as the audience is concerned, is ticking boxes off a list with one hand whilst typing with the other. It's almost obnoxious in its lack of passion; films are meant to stir us, to make us feel different coming out from what we did when going in, and any competent review/er should have exactly the same effect. And yet they don't, and they never will so long as they feel as though they are being factory-produced to a grasping editor's standard. And yet this here leads on to another, considerable, problem: how does one combine giving reviewers the freedom they ought to have with some sort of concentration, as everything within a magazine should have some restraints on it. And here's where the other sort of critiquing comes in.

Exemplified by such titans of the movie scene as the impassable Anthony Lane, these reviews are naked. They are full-on. They refuse to limit themselves within the confines of inherent bias and a need to please someone. They tell the audience what they thought and why. They do not tell the audience to believe this without question, nor to they state they have the last word. This is quite different to persuading the audience one way or another (reviews, after all, must contain an element of recommendation), nor does it forbid the sheer denouncing of a film if the writer feels justified - heaven knows these critics do that all the time. It simply means bearing in mind the subjectivity of critics and therefore taking them in a different direction. None of the two-star-or-three-star nonsense blighting so much film journalism. No here's-the-plot-here's-the-acting-here's-the-script-I've-run-out-of-things-to-say tedium. With this mindset one can dig deeper, ek out the hidden themes and interesting comments the films makes and, most importantly, what any given film brings to cinema. How can/will it affect the medium? Critics such as Anthony Lane, David Edelstein and Anthony Quinn pull this off with an enviable aplomp, able to take apart a film and scan it for anything of note with the precision of a Harley Street surgeon. I see genius at work when I read their writings.

So here we come to a partition of Criticism. Above anything else, a review should be focused. It should not feel like a lecture to the audience, nor should it feel like one throwing out random, disjointed, unlinked opinions like someone trapped inside a postal sorter, throwing envelopes at pigeonholes with accuracy but no pattern. A review should not tell the audience what they should think but what they are likely to think, and if not that it should inform them of what they will not think, thereby broadening there minds to some smaller degree. A review should be prioritised: not just what the work in question does but what the sum of its parts contributes to. What does it all mean? What is the effect on the viewer? Does it do anything of note, and if not, why not? What holds it back? All these factors contribute to the review being just as much a work of art as what it addresses, as reviews should be. After all, reviewing something implies the reflection, the meditation upon it, and anyone who is familiar with the works of Marcus Aurelius will know that meditations can certainly attain the status of 'art'. Simply telling people in inadequate. You need to dig a little bit deeper.

This is a subject I will refer back to in the future, as it is certainly something I bear strong feelings towards and have spent a lot of time thinking over. Maybe my next one will be what qualifies someone to be a critic in lieu of actual genuine qualifications. It'll sleep on it.

You must loose me like an arrow.