Filmmakers think about your point of view rather a lot you see. I tell you this to point out that all movies, from Michael Bay’s latest to the new Scandinavian film about a pool of tree sap, should be judged with these two cultures in mind. That means all are worthy of in depth discussion and all will throw up things that you may not have the time or inclination to think about in the cinema. A review is just that – a re-view, another look; it exists, at its best, to look deeper. So when your beloved new movie is trashed, it’s not because the critic wanted it to be terrible, rather they’re obliged to consider aspects that you – that’s you that doesn’t have to write an article on the subject – have already dismissed, or never considered in the first place.
So you, yeah you, ya bastard; leave film critics alone. Hate the bad ones; the ones that flick a review off the wrist in the time it takes you to walk home from the cinema – they feed the myth that film writing is a simpleton’s game; but respect those that compliment movies, and I don’t mean pay a compliment, with a considered treatment. Would you rather all films were disposable and at best generated 30 seconds of after-screen chat? Well then respectfully, you can fuck off. Movies aren’t made to be consumed like Happy Meals, not even the ones with McDonald’s Tie-Ins. That’s why we have, and indeed need, film critics and that, I suggest, is why it’s time to kill your prejudices, though they be darlings, and start reading around.
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