As we know, film critics don’t matter any more. The combined might of the major Hollywood studios and their marketing minions has rendered the job of the well-informed critic irrelevant.
But the greatest sign that bona fide film criticism is truly dead is the emergence of a populist and puerile strain of anticriticism. Already prevalent in the foam-flecked ravings of the blogosphere (where “this movie sucks!” is the mot juste du jour) and within the glossy pages of some men’s magazines, anticriticism has finally reached the formal establishment with the book 101 Movies to Avoid.
Written by a film publicist under the cinematic pseudonym Allan Smithee, the book flaunts its anticritical stance in the introduction. The real enemy is critics, says Smithee. “These leeches never queue for a movie in the rain, or have to pay for their popcorn.” Consequently, he deduces that critics are always getting it wrong and elevating to classic status a load of movies that, like, suck!
Shane Meadows’s 24 7: Twenty Four Seven is rubbish because it’s in black and white. It’s not realistic, snipes Smithee. “I see colours out of my window, not monochrome.” Er, OK. Next! American Beauty is downright dull, he says. But, at the same time, “If you look close enough you’ll discover that Thora Birch’s breasts are not the same size.”
Now, we’re all fond of a dash of post-ironic lads’ mag humour, but surely there’s something misogynistic here? (Birch was barely 17 when she made the film.) Smithee, though, is an equal opportunities offender. What’s wrong with Billy Elliot? “Many would agree with his Dad — maybe ballet dancing is a little bit gay.”
Advertisement
But, just in case you think that it’s all undiluted negativity, Smithee closes with his choice of underrated classics. Here, oddball anomalies such as Local Hero and Manhunter mix with also-rans such as Footloose, George of the Jungle and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. There is no consistency in the choices, nothing resembling a strategy, or a qualitative rubric against which films are judged.
And this is, ultimately, the point. For what 101 Movies to Avoid shows us is the essence of anticriticism. If film criticism genuinely doesn’t matter any more, then what replaces it is the opinionated anarchy of the blogosphere.
In this brave new world of anonymous braggadoccio everything bows before the insult, the jibe and the playground taunt. Thus “wonky breasts” and “gay” form the new critical lingua franca where once “narrative”, “theme” and “performance” were required.
Yes, it’s possibly more entertaining and certainly easier than anything resembling a polemic. But taunts can get you only so far. Unless they are backed up with a considered argument they are redundant, devoid of critical clout.
Which is great news for the Hollywood studios, finally free to ply their trade without interference from pesky critics. But it’s punishingly bad news for you, the reader.
Advertisement
101 Movies to Avoid is published by Cyan
Cutting edge: the career of Allan Smithee