So read this, and get fed up.
I love the premise that those who can’t, critique. According to Señor McKinnon, a wannabe screenwriter who conned enough right wingers to put up slush fund money to publish his shitty politico novels, film criticism should be left to those who’ve actually made films. Haven’t you ever seen an awards show? It’s a self-congratulatory circle jerk, wanking with one hand and back-patting with the other.
But no, your point is that most movie critics are snobs, who are nothing more than trolls who live to bash the art that hard working people create and that common decent hard-working people obviously appreciate. Most films are nothing more than commercials, slickly packaged but shoddily crafted gifts like a warped ashtray finger painted by a toddler for a parent that doesn’t smoke. It’s not meant to be high art, it’s a product, meant to make money. Those artists you praise very rarely herald the films that have topped the box office. And sadly, even a jury of their peers have yet to recognize Kevin James, Adam Sandler, or Rob Schneider for their hard work and dedication to the craft.
Further, your claim is that there’s some kind of gulf between critics and the average filmgoer, as if we’ve built a moat of elitism around us. That’s a trench, motherfucker, but you wouldn’t know that, because you’ve never been to war. The average filmgoer only goes to see movies they are interested in, movies that appeal to them. Film critics have to see everything, good or bad. And there is far more bad than good. As a critic, I pray to the popcorn gods that what I’m going to watch will be good. Most are mediocre at best. If you choose to enjoy them, does that make you a bad person? No. But it does mean you have questionable taste. Hey, millions of people eat McDonald’s every day, but does that mean that the Big Mac tastes better than a Kobe burger with applewood smoked bacon? It just means that the lower quality crap is more readily available.
I sat here surging my fingers, preparing a Kamehameha of indignity and outrage at your missive the likes of which only Dragonball fans will be able to create at the Nickelodeon-hatefuck of their beloved cartoon, when I realized. Who cares? You’re right. Most critics are blurb whores anyway. They’re nobodies, trying to make a name for themselves. Just like you and your nonsense argument. If you speak for the common people, the ones who don’t want to be insulted by armchair academics with too many Criterion DVDs on their shelves, the ones who clamor for more remakes because they don’t want to actually see anything challenging or emotional, because they get enough of that in their daily lives, then fine. Drink the fucking Kool-aid. That’s why they put the poison in it, because it tastes good.
Me, I’m going to represent the minority of angry, fist-waving, foul-mouthed people who open their windows and shout, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Because, they’ve seen Network, and they want quality fucking films. I wish I could hearken back to the days before I knew any better. But once you’ve taken the red pill, that’s one diddle you can’t undo. Am I better than you? Of course not. You’ve just taken the easy way out, content to drool in front of whatever Shakespeare play Hollywood wants to fart joke this week. So when they finally get around optioning your project, only it stars Larry the Cable Guy and Jessica Simpson, don’t come crying to me. I’ll be in my ivory tower, watching Maury Povich and reading Proust.
I Prefer Fistillectual / Brian Prisco
Trade News | January 30, 2009 | Comments ()