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Since it seems to be the season, more Unpopular Opinions (Moooovieeeez Edition):
So: Earlier, I was reading a Jim Emerson post over at his blog, Scanners, which reminds me very strongly of why I ended up feeling so disenfranchised as a film critic…he references two articles, one by A.O. Scott, which perfectly encapsulate what I told Steve the other day: That all early-21st-century critical thought seems to boil down to either “You’re not taking this seriously enough!” or “You’re taking this way too seriously!” (There’s another subset: “You didn’t make me feel for these people!” vs. “You made me feel for these people!”—but that’s a whole ‘nother discussion.) Stance one is most often applied to stuff which, in received wisdom, is “artistically valid”—No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood, Zodiac, etc. Which is not to say that I can’t appreciate those films; I was re-watching Zodiac just last night, marvelling yet again at the way it essentially exists solely to defeat every one of the audience’s dramatic expectations, yet tell a riveting story nonetheless...but that, as Janet Venable would say, is me.
Stance two, OTOH, is applied to cultural detritus like superhero movies/horror movies/genre movies of any genre you happen to think is cheesy by nature, by people who don’t understand why they—special and unique flowers that they are—should be forced to (make money by) review(ing) disposable trash. And while I sort of expect it from, say, my mother—who takes it as a species of personal insult that Robert Downey Jnr. had to make Iron Man (and Iron Man had to make $100 million) before mainstream people acknowledged just how good he really is, or that Edward Norton made The Incredible Hulk, or that the thing Charlize Theron did immediately after winning an Oscar for Monster was Aeon Flux (don’t even get her started Halle Berry and Catwoman, BTW)—I don’t, necessarily, expect it from professionals. Unless they’re independently rich magazine-owners who only scribble down reviews every once in a while for fun, that is.
Listen, chumbly: You think I never feel annoyed that the big screen has become pretty much pre-booked with one blockbuster after another, reserved for anything studios desperately hope makes at least $50 mil (and dump after a week, if it doesn’t)? I’m the same dame who was ridiculously happy to realize they sometimes book Bollywood films at the Yonge/Dundas AMC, and that Mongol was still hanging around for at least two shows a day, even though X-Files: I Want to Believe was also playing every hour on the hour. Although you may have convinced yourself otherwise, however, even back in the glory days of the 1970s/mid-1990s (both of which eras I lived through too, though grantedly, I could only go see movies rated “R” during one of them), movies like THX-1138 still got their ass handed to them by movies like Jaws. It’s called economics on the one hand, crowd control on the other—Hollywood 101, in other words. And the equation does not change.
(Also, for all those of you crying “sell-out!” on older directors who actually want to connect with current audiences…guess what? There was NO time-period in history where Raging Bull would have beat out The Departed, so fucking well suck it up.)
Aaaand...scene! Off to BodyCombat.
So: Earlier, I was reading a Jim Emerson post over at his blog, Scanners, which reminds me very strongly of why I ended up feeling so disenfranchised as a film critic…he references two articles, one by A.O. Scott, which perfectly encapsulate what I told Steve the other day: That all early-21st-century critical thought seems to boil down to either “You’re not taking this seriously enough!” or “You’re taking this way too seriously!” (There’s another subset: “You didn’t make me feel for these people!” vs. “You made me feel for these people!”—but that’s a whole ‘nother discussion.) Stance one is most often applied to stuff which, in received wisdom, is “artistically valid”—No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood, Zodiac, etc. Which is not to say that I can’t appreciate those films; I was re-watching Zodiac just last night, marvelling yet again at the way it essentially exists solely to defeat every one of the audience’s dramatic expectations, yet tell a riveting story nonetheless...but that, as Janet Venable would say, is me.
Stance two, OTOH, is applied to cultural detritus like superhero movies/horror movies/genre movies of any genre you happen to think is cheesy by nature, by people who don’t understand why they—special and unique flowers that they are—should be forced to (make money by) review(ing) disposable trash. And while I sort of expect it from, say, my mother—who takes it as a species of personal insult that Robert Downey Jnr. had to make Iron Man (and Iron Man had to make $100 million) before mainstream people acknowledged just how good he really is, or that Edward Norton made The Incredible Hulk, or that the thing Charlize Theron did immediately after winning an Oscar for Monster was Aeon Flux (don’t even get her started Halle Berry and Catwoman, BTW)—I don’t, necessarily, expect it from professionals. Unless they’re independently rich magazine-owners who only scribble down reviews every once in a while for fun, that is.
Listen, chumbly: You think I never feel annoyed that the big screen has become pretty much pre-booked with one blockbuster after another, reserved for anything studios desperately hope makes at least $50 mil (and dump after a week, if it doesn’t)? I’m the same dame who was ridiculously happy to realize they sometimes book Bollywood films at the Yonge/Dundas AMC, and that Mongol was still hanging around for at least two shows a day, even though X-Files: I Want to Believe was also playing every hour on the hour. Although you may have convinced yourself otherwise, however, even back in the glory days of the 1970s/mid-1990s (both of which eras I lived through too, though grantedly, I could only go see movies rated “R” during one of them), movies like THX-1138 still got their ass handed to them by movies like Jaws. It’s called economics on the one hand, crowd control on the other—Hollywood 101, in other words. And the equation does not change.
(Also, for all those of you crying “sell-out!” on older directors who actually want to connect with current audiences…guess what? There was NO time-period in history where Raging Bull would have beat out The Departed, so fucking well suck it up.)
Aaaand...scene! Off to BodyCombat.
