Reckoning With My Shortcomings as a Critic

The children we used to be were easily impressed by the magic of cinema. I didn't watch many movies growing up, and I still remember my first noteworthy theater-going experience, a 3-D showing of Star Wars: The Force Awakens on opening night. As an outwardly hip 13-year-old, I played it cool for my dad. But my inward child was screaming with unbridled delight and amazement at this movie's bewitching elaboration on a universe I had grown up practically worshipping. Now, I'm 22 and going on 23 years old. My horizons have expanded far, far beyond that galaxy far, far away, and the number of movies I watch has risen precipitously. Star Wars was a wonderful introduction to a wider cinematic world way bigger than even I realize, and in many ways, that thought excites me. In others, this young man today looks at the bright-eyed boy he once was, and I can't lie - I miss him. Watching movies as a critic is much like watching a magic show and knowing how the tricks work. An illusion of true showmanship will still impress me, but it's not magical anymore. Only impressive. What's worse, I look at the way I view myself and the way I view movie-watchers more casual than I, and I don't always like what I see. My anxious, Asperger's-riddled brain asks itself a lot of doubt-ridden questions, and for my two-hundredth article on this site, I wanted to share these doubts with you to prove that movie critics are still human.

Today's pop culture landscape is a tangibly hostile one. Varying people have widely varying opinions on different movies, and they often guard their views with the ferocity of a pit bull. One of the best examples of this phenomenon is the growing critic-audience divide, and having lived on both sides of this ideological fence, I'd like to think I understand its pickets. Long story short, the vast majority of things that trained critics notice in a movie will fly entirely over the head of your casual moviegoer - the type of moviegoer I used to be - and this is why I generally don't take the Google user reviews of a movie seriously at all, why it's easy for me to rag on relatively uninformed one-star user reviews. Unfortunately, this habit doesn't inform the general public about how film criticism works in any way. So, my first question is this: Has my knowledge made me condescending to general audiences? I want to inform these types of people, for goodness' sake, not belittle them! Have I unwittingly become a gatekeeper who prevents others from approaching or even wanting to get involved in my line of study? Again, this "the critics are wrong" sentiment isn't helpful, but to say that the audience is the only party at fault in this case would be hubris. As critics, we need to do a better job of being humble and thinking of our profession as a conceptual treasure trove to be discovered by anyone, not a mysterious intellectual weapon to be wielded against those who may not fully understand it.

My next perceived shortcoming is somewhat lighter conceptually. Is it problematic that I can't regularly go to the theater to catch and review new releases? Now that I type that, it feels somewhat stupid to say. I'm a poor college student who can't drive because of an epileptic history. However, I wonder if it's unrealistic for me to try to divert attention away from prominent publications, companies that hire people who can actually drive to review brand-spanking-new movies for them on the regular. Am I just screaming my thoughts on old and benign movies into an electronic void where most of the poor souls there with me don't even know I exist? On one hand, writing for the sake of writing, even if no one is reading, is what I call true love. And I do love writing. I do love criticism. On the other hand, I'd love it more if more people would read it. Or at least that's what I think. Who knows? Maybe I would be old, miserable, and famous. With cats. Lots and lots of cats. Okay, so maybe I lied a little about this shortcoming being lighter. Or perhaps I make ideas heavier than they need to be.

I get joy out of watching movies. I do. Still, I look at the less-informed yet wondrous way I used to watch them, and trouble myself with another question. Have I robbed myself of the childlike wonder of watching a movie? Looking back at the analogy of whether or not you can be impressed by a magic trick if you know how it works, I think the answer is yes and no. I can be amazed at the skill behind a magician's sleight of hand, but I can't wonder anymore because I know how all his tricks work. So, while it might not be an entirely bad thing to learn the ins and outs of how a movie works, I miss that mystery, that seeming magic. I miss being able to wonder how they did everything. Now I know the methods behind the madness, and it's not as incredible as it used to be. I don't know if this is a flaw with me as a critic, a flaw with me in general, or a flaw at all, come to think of it. You decide.

I've written an entire article devoted to this subject, and so you may be aware that I'm not the type of critic who praises a movie solely for the ideas it raises. It doesn't make any sense to me to use an ideological technique to make a measurable argument that's supposed to work on an observable level. Except, am I supposed to? Many other movie critics don't seem to have any problem doing that. Am I the one at fault here? Are my reviews too matter-of-fact? Am I supposed to add or subtract points from my final score because I agree or disagree with the worldview a given movie propagates? To be completely blunt, I think that's an asinine thing to do, and it opens the door to a method of film criticism where movies that uphold my worldview get extra points simply because I agree with their message, regardless of their actual quality. Now that I write this down, I'm even more confidently opposed to theme-centric criticism, at least as far as it's used as an ideological bludgeoning tool. Still, should I try to say something about ideas?

As a person, I like to possess some level of confidence. Some days, I'll ooze it. I'll go and talk to the girl I barely know. I'll take that hill faster than usual on my skateboard because I want to feel that adrenaline high. And other days, I'll draw into myself. I won't want to talk to anybody. I'll find that I still struggle with habits I thought I'd kicked, and be disappointed that I'm not where I think I should be as a person. I'll feel like everybody's looking at me, judging me, and talking about me behind my back. There are days I don't even feel like a good writer. And so, my last shortcoming is this nagging doubt. Do I doubt myself too much? Is the fact that I'm even writing this article problematic? Or is this a sign of growth? I'll occasionally read some of my earliest articles. On one hand, I'll grimace at some of the poor-quality trademarks. And on the other hand, I see how far I've come. Growth is inevitable, and I'd rather see how bad I used to be than not change at all in a year and a half of near-nonstop writing. Still, a part of me wishes I were as skillful as some professionals in this field who have probably been writing for their entire adult lives.

I wish I were better at this. Not that I don't think I'm some flavor of good. I believe I know what I'm talking about to some degree. It's just that I read reviews by Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel and the other trade giants, and wish I could write and analyze like them. And maybe that's unfair and even unhealthy. Every minute I spend living in the shadow of a legend is a minute I don't get to spend trying to cast my own. Nevertheless, I'd like to be able to read one of my reviews without seeing the blemishes. I want to read one of my reviews and think to myself, I've made it. And I don't know if I will ever feel like I've made it. But there's only one way to find out, and I intend to explore this field of study for all its worth, come hell or high water. I love writing about movies too much to quit. I certainly hope you feel the same about reading what I have to say.

That concludes 200 imperfect articles I've written with all the love I have in my heart. Here's to 200 more.

James 1:17