A perspective on movies

OK, I have written a fair bit about this topic in my newspaper column over the years, so I'll refer you to a couple of essays in particular that may address some of the issues you raise. The first is available online here: https://www.dailyherald.com/20240307/columns/a-pre-oscars-conversation-on-the-merits-and-meanings-of-arts-criticism/

The second was among the first columns I wrote 26 years ago, and you won't find it in a Google search, so I copied it at the end of this missive if you or anyone else is interested.

My bottom line in all arts-related reflections is that, by their nature, arts are a matter of personal taste. I know people who consider "Smokey And The Bandit" the best movie of all time. I wouldn't be among them. Professional film critics often list "Citizen Kane" as THE best or one of the best movies of all time. I think "Citizen Kane" is interesting, engaging, a little touching, and perhaps innovative for its time, but I wouldn't rank it as the best ever any more than I would rank "Beethoven's Ninth" as the best piece of music of all time. Such questions really are inherently bogus and hold value only in assessing how the tastes of a particular observer are relevant to one's own.

It's also true that enjoyment and appreciation are separate issues. Some of the movies I've enjoyed most - "Blazing Saddles", "Airplane", "Three Days of The Condor", "Hoosiers", and on and on - I wouldn't consider ground-breaking or particularly great literature. I just enjoyed them a lot and could watch them over and over. Every Christmas I try to get someone to watch the Alistair Sim version of "A Christmas Carol" - the definitive version, if you ask me - and every Christmas I get booed out of the room - by people, I will note, who have never seen it, but who I suspect will not appreciate it in the way that I do.

When it comes to television and movies - as, again, with almost any piece of art - I appreciate a lot of movies and acknowledge their greatness even though I might have to be in a particular mood to want to watch them, while I could pretty much watch - to use your example - a Bourne movie over and over without hesitation. Beyond that kind of thinking, rating art is a multi-functional act. That is, you can rate movies based on how much of your time or money they're worth for a Wednesday afternoon matinee or on how much they'll make you want to think about lighting and direction in a heavy Saturday night analysis. Neither one of those approaches, nor any of the hundreds in between, makes you a smarter or more reliable source. They just refer to different applications.

Indeed, I think one of the real problems with film and art criticism is that people have some sort of hierarchy of critics - those who like "Smokey and the Bandit" are somehow lower on the food chain than those who like "Citizen Kane." Indeed, I suspect that if you really bored a hole into the heart of most of those supposedly high-grade critics, you'd find that they didn't really like the movie all that much, but some New York Times or New Yorker or L.A. Times maven says it's the greatest, so it must be.

That's not to say there isn't a genuine standard separating various films / art works. To be sure, someone who watches 70 major motion pictures a year every year for 10, 15, 20 years is going to have a more sophisticated take than someone who watches just a few every year, doesn't really care about anything more than being satisfactorily entertained for a few minutes and isn't likely to give the characters, plot, ideas, dialogue or other features another thought after he leaves the theater.

Nor am I saying there's not room to discuss the varying qualities of a movie or movies. If there weren't, there would be no point in arts criticism. In general, the fun is in the discussion of certain works or in debating the merits of a show or a comparison/contrast of shows. I remember attending a party when I first moved to San Diego and a colleague of a close friend approached and in the course of conversation said she had just seen "Parenthood."

"Oh, how was it?" my friend asked.

"It was awful. What a piece of shit," the colleague sniffed.

I perked up. I loved "Parenthood," and I was eager to find what this person found so objectionable and describe what I thought was worthwhile and memorable about it.

"Oh, really?" I said. "I loved that movie. What did you think was so awful?"

"Oh, well, it just sucked, I guess," she said. She lowered her head, turned away noticeably miffed. My friend and I just looked at each other as we watched her walk away.

That's not the reaction of someone who really appreciates film or art. It's more the reaction of someone who's interested in "cool" or "hip" or some other ancillary quality, and I think it's often the way many people think of movies, etc. The reason I like reading arts criticism is that when done right, its point isn't to call attention to its own brilliance but to give me something to play my own reactions against, thereby actually helping me enjoy the whole experience all the more.

One more final thought in that regard and then I'm off. Back to the Oscars. A very abbreviated note about a complicated subject. Generally, I find the Oscars and similar attempts to recognize artistic excellence an enjoyable exercise and a pretty good reference point for directing me toward movies I'd like to see. But they're not the definitive statement by a long shot. I don't know how Spike Lee's nuanced "Do the Right Thing" didn't win an Oscar and the crappy, insipid "Crash" did. About the all-over-the-board "American Beauty," I once told the Daily Herald's movie critic "gag me with a fucking silver spoon." They get it right sometimes - re: "The Godfather" or "No Country for Old Men," but how the hell Tom Hanks didn't even get nominated for "Captain Phillips" and the laughable "Birdman" won one are all but inconceivable questions.

All interesting commentary, I think. Interesting conversation fodder - and a good means of helping those who really care better appreciate what they like - or don't like.

Anyway, that's my take. What follows is the column I wrote somewhat on the subject in August 1999.

Why critics are both valued and scorned

It was a warm spring morning. The firefighter and I sweated lightly as we chatted and watched a small building shudder and finally give up its ghost. I was there to report on the fire, he to control it, and with his share of the job nearly complete, we were sorting out details while others went about the assorted tasks of mopping up. I shortly had all the information available, and as I thanked him and prepared to leave, he stopped me with a professional question of his own. "D'you write the movie reviews?" he grumbled. "Not usually," I replied, suddenly a little on guard. He smiled. "I like movies," he said. "I find the reviews really helpful." "Oh? Great. I'm glad." "Yeah, I read what the critics think and then do the opposite." He grinned, clearly impressed with his rapier wit and the opportunity at last to prick someone with it. My first inclination was to respond that obviously the owner of the building hissing and gasping in front of us had used similar logic regarding advice on smoke alarms. But I restrained myself, mumbling something about everyone having a right to his own opinion, and then moved on. I had learned a lot in the brief exchange. His statement about critics was nothing new. I had heard it no doubt as often as he had heard witty cliches about the fire department's expertise at saving only basements. But I knew few people who would go out of their way to issue the insult to the first firefighter they would see. His eagerness told me the issue was important to him. His complaint suggested he was looking for something very different from movie criticism than he was getting. And, well, I wasn't quite sure what to make of his obvious pride in the difference between his preferences and those of "the critics" except to note, without meaning it in a derogatory way, that there really is no accounting for taste. Taste, after all, is the central issue in any qualitative discussion of matters that, like movies, music, art, books, plays, television, food or nearly anything aesthetic, can be judged only subjectively. Unfortunately, taste does not conform well to the dictates of consumer advocacy, a function that many people mistakenly attribute to arts criticism. If a music critic, for instance, were to judge a new album based on whether he expected it to become popular, his recommendations would be wildly erratic. He would rave about U2 no less than about Garth Brooks, Barenaked Ladies no less than Britney Spears. Your ability to trust him would be seriously limited. You may adore any one of those bands, but the likelihood that you adore them all equally is very small. Or, if he were to judge music based on some fixed standard - assuming such a thing could even be established for artistic pursuits - his work would quickly take on a hollow monotony, focusing far more on, say, Bob Dylan's imperfect vocal instrument than on the spirit in his voice. There is among writers and artists a certain grudging disdain for critics, and this attitude tends to leak out into the public at large. It has given critics a sort of contradictory reputation. On one hand, their praise is so highly valued that movie ads will pilfer any phrase possible - no matter how far out of context it may be - in order to suggest acclaim. On the other, they are so scorned that artists delight in urging you not to pay attention to them. I simply urge you to get to know them and be careful about taking them too seriously. It is an oversimplification to say that Dann Gire's views on movies, say, or Ted Cox's on television are "just one person's opinions." They are that, but they also are, as with all our critics, one rather well-informed person's opinions. That doesn't mean you should agree with them; it merely means that, even if you, too, are rather well-informed on the subject, they should be able to engage you when you disagree. If you are selecting your activities by reflexively doing the opposite of what critics suggest, I guess we are performing a service. But, believe me, if you read them closely and let their ideas challenge your own, you'll have more fun. And, you'll have a lot more ammunition for that chance meeting with a reporter at the grocery store, a village meeting or even a fire scene.

Thursday, August 26, 1999