Social Network | Through the Shattered Lens

Do critics (specifically, professional film critics) matter? In a word, no.

This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, ever since I came across an article by “professional” critic Sasha Stone in which she asked the exact same question and came to the exact opposite conclusion. Her argument boiled down to one quote: “You see things differently when you’re 20 than when you’re 30.”

And she’s right. I see things differently at 25 than I did when I was 13. And I imagine that when 30 comes around, I’ll have a whole new set of opinions. For that matter, I’m sure that as a Texan I probably see some things differently than how a native of California would see them. As I mentioned in my previous review of Black Swan, a lot of my reaction to that film was due to my own history and experiences. Would someone who has never had those same experiences have the same reaction? Probably not.

So, yes, Sasha is right. People see things differently.

And I’m even more right when I say that a 30 year-old critic matters about as much as a 20 year-old critic.

At the heart of professional film criticism is this elitist notion that somehow, Roger Ebert’s opinion is more worthy of consideration than some guy who actually had to spend money to get a ticket so he could watch the movie in theater surrounded by strangers while he eats rancid move theater nachos.

Ultimately, criticism is just an opinion and the only opinion that matters is yours. Just because I hated Avatar doesn’t mean that Avatar is a terrible movie. It just means that from my point of view, it sucks. And, as much fun as I have explaining why I felt it sucked, that’s ultimately just my opinion. Whether or not Avatar is a good film or if Black Swan is a great film , the only person that can answer that question is you.

When it comes to film (and really, all art) I think we would do best to remember the words of Aleister Crowley: “Nothing is true. All is permitted.”

This has been on my mind a lot recently as we went Oscar season and so many critics are now taking it upon themselves to announce which films are the best and we’re all expected to follow along with their opinions like lemmings going over a cliff. Around this time, the old school film critics start to get paranoid about all of us bloggers who have the nerve to offer up our opinions on film as if our opinion matters. That’s because most of these critics are a part of that generation that was raised to believe that only certain people were allowed to speak and that they only had the right as long as what they said was safe and predictable. Independent bloggers scare them because it proves what we all know: that anyone can provide an opinion.

Perhaps that’s why they’ve been so enthusiastic about embracing The Social Network, a film that suggests that blogging was the invention of sociopaths.

But ultimately, a critic is just another person providing their opinion. And maybe you respect that opinion enough that you’ll allow it to influence what you chose to see or not to see. And there’s nothing wrong with that. To me, the best thing that a critic can do — and what I hope I can do on occasion — is make the viewer aware of a film that he or she might otherwise not be aware of. If you see a film because I recommended it, I thank you and I hope you enjoyed the film as much (or as little) as I did. And if you didn’t, that’s cool too. I’m just a viewer with an opinion.

But when it comes to the movie itself, critics do not matter. The only thing that matters is the individual viewer. Art is the eye of the beholder.

At this time of year, we’re reminded that so much of so-called “professional” film criticism is simply about building a bandwagon and hopping on. Here’s hoping that in the future, we set that bandwagon on fire and let it burn.

Recently, I tried to rewatch an obscure art film from 1997 called Titanic. From the time I was 12 until I was 16, I watched this movie a lot and, without fail, I cried and cried at the movie’s end. (Admittedly, it was pretty easy to make me cry back then.) I decided to rewatch it because I was curious as to whether or not Titanic could still make me cry.

For those of you who aren’t into art films, here’s a quick synopsis and review of Titanic.

The film’s plot: Bill Paxton and an obnoxious fat guy are held hostage on a submarine by a senile old biddy who insists on telling them the story of how she lost her virginity 98 years ago.

Meanwhile, in London, Leonardo DiCaprio steals some poor kid’s sketch book and then sneaks onto a cruise ship where, pretending to be an artist, he seduces and murders lonely widows.

Also on the cruise ship is Kate Winslet. Kate’s engaged to Billy Zane but she’s unhappy about it because — well, there’s some men you fuck and there’s some men you marry and let’s just say that you don’t marry Billy Zane. Once the boat sets sail, Kate decides to jump overboard. However, just before she can jump, she’s spotted by Leo. Leo quickly tosses a burlap sack containing the corpse of Lady Astor into the Atlantic and then rescues Kate.

Kate rewards him by taking him down to her cabin and showing him a painting by Someone Picasso. (Early on in the film, Billy correctly says that Someone Picasso will never amount to anything and that’s true. Someone was always overshadowed by his older brother Pablo.) Leo looks at the painting and says, “Look at what he does with color here.” As a former Art History major, that line made me smile. That’s the type of statement that is regularly uttered by people who can’t think of anything else to say. When a guy looks at a painting and says, “Look at what he does with color here,” what he’s actually saying is, “Look, babe, I went to the damn art museum with you so there better be a blow job in my immediate future.”

Leo has dinner with Billy and Kate. Leo says, “I’m just a tumbleweed blowing in the wind.” Over at the next table, a shifty young man named Bob Dylan overhears and thinks, “That would make a good song. But the little man must die so nobody knows I stole that line from him…”

Anyway, Leo eventually slips Kate a rohypnol, convinces her to pose naked while he secretly tapes her for Youtube, and then proceeds to have sex with her in the back seat of a car. Afterward, Kate says, “Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” Leo replies, “Uhmm…I might be busy. I’ll call you.” “My God,” I said as I watched all this, “it’s like reliving my freshman year of college all over again.”

Anyway, 8 more hours pass. All the rich passengers on the ship do rich things while all the poor passengers get drunk and trash the lower levels of the boat. Suddenly, without warning, the boat is besieged by the living dead. Billy Zane insists that they would be safer in the basement. Leo disagrees while Kate says, “So, you think you can just fuck me and leave!? No way!”

12 more hours pass. The living dead manage to rip a hole in the side of the boat. Billy chases Leo and Kate around the Titanic as it sinks. “I hope you’ll be very happy together!” he screams. Meanwhile, up top, two rich guys put on tuxedos and one of them says something like, “We’re going to die like gentlemen.” Which I guess is what they end up doing though, honestly, it sounds to me like the guy’s just being a smartass.

Eventually, Kate and Leo end up sitting on an iceberg together. Kate wonders if this is a dream. Leo proceeds to spin a top on the ice to find out. Suddenly, Bob Dylan floats by in a rowboat. “This machine kills fascists!” he shouts as he shoots Leo with a crossbow. Leo sinks into the water. Bob Dylan smirks. “How does it feel to be on your own?” he asks.

The end.

A quick review: I guess the easiest way to review Titanic is to answer my original question. Does the film still make me, at the age of 24, cry like it did when I was 12? No, it does not. To be honest, the only tears that I shed while rewatching Titanic were tears of shame and boredom. This is the movie that I once thought was the greatest thing ever? True, I was young and stupid but still…

On the plus side, Kate Winslet gives a good performance even if her character is basically just a sexist male fantasy. Billy Zane is also a lot of fun as her jilted suitor.

On the negative side, there’s everything else. The script — written by Someone Cameron — is full of laughably bad lines and plotwise, the film has all the depth of a lanced boil. The romantic elements of the plot made me cry back when I was 12 because I didn’t have a whole lot of real world experience to compare Titanic’s fantasy against. Now, at the age of 24, I’ve actually had to deal with my fair share of guys who say actually do make dumbfug statement about things like being a tumbleweed blowing in the wind (not to mention being king of the world). I’m not saying that a good movie can’t present a romantic idealization of reality. I’m just saying that a good movie can do that without insulting the viewer’s intelligence like Titanic does.

One last note — Leo DiCaprio has become a great actor. But, in Titanic, he just comes across like a shrill poseur.

I Learned Something Today Conclusion: Just because you and a million others think that a movie is great today, that doesn’t mean that the movie’s going to be anywhere near as good 12 years later. In this age of Avatar and the Social Network, that’s a lesson that I think many self-appointed film “gurus” would do well to consider before they throw a hissy fit just because a complete stranger on the Internet disagrees with them.