Fri 30 Mar 2007
My friend Garth just emailed me the latest article from Variety editor Peter Bart. He talks about how the most successful movies of the year so far (in box office terms) have also been the ones most panned by the critics. This is not a new argument. In fact, Bart tends to write the same article every three months, trying to remind the world that critics are irrelevant. In this missive, he actually goes out of his way to remark that movie reviewers tend to be fat, as if that’s somehow relevant. Bart used to be a studio executive, which means that he has little use for film critics. As you might imagine, film critics have little use for him.
The problem is that this hissy fit obscures a more interesting and important issue. What is the purpose of a film critic? Most Hollywood types assume we’re supposed to be their cowboys, helping herd the cattle to the nearest theater to see whatever blockbuster they’re growing these days. Readers assume that we’re supposed to be the cultural gatekeepers, letting you know what’s worth seeing and what’s avoiding. But as anyone who reads movie reviews has to know, that’s a quixotic role at best. Given the subjective nature of moviegoing, how likely is it that you’re going to agree with your local critic? Furthermore, there’s a fundamental difference between seeing 250 movies a year (a normal load for a critic) and 10 to 20. If I see 20 romantic comedies in twelve months, I’m likely to watch the next one in a different frame of mind than you will. And if I’m seeing it because it’s my job (admittedly one I enjoy thoroughly), that also creates a different frame of mind than those who are seeing the movie purely for pleasure.
No, I would argue that the film critic has two different purposes–to help you think about movies in a slightly more sophisticated way and to alert you to movies that don’t have the weight of Hollywood’s marketing machine behind them. In other words, movies you might not have heard of. Yes, you’re familiar with 300, and I’m sure you have a pretty good idea of whether that will be your cup of tea. But have you heard of The Lookout? If not, you should.
It stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt as a young man named Chris who, in the opening scene, is involved in a horrific car accident. Four years later, he looks like he’s fine, but his head injury has affected his ability to think clearly, put things in order, or remember the most basic activities. He lives with a blind roommate and works at a bank as a night janitor. He’s frustrated with his life and how difficult it is to perform the most routine tasks. Then one night he meets an old high school acquaintance, a man who taps into that frustration and offers him a way out, a way to grab power. He asks Chris to help him and his gang rob the bank.
Set up like that, the plot might sound like any blockbuster thriller. But writer and director Scott Frank (who wrote the screenplays for Out of Sight, Minority Report and Get Shorty and now makes his directorial debut) uses a much more understated approach. This isn’t a crime drama with stereotypical characters. This is a character study that focuses on what happens when someone gets tired of his life. That distinction is why The Lookout is being distributed by a small studio with little fanfare.
The movie is anchored by another fantastic performance from Gordon-Levitt. He starred as the kid in the tv show “Third Rock from the Sun,” and is quietly turning into one of his generation’s most interesting actors. Largely eschewing roles in blockbuster films, he’s making a name for himself with rich, intense performances (Mysterious Skin and Brick). Here, he avoids the showy tics usually associated with disabled characters and offers a tight, nuanced portrayal. We see Chris as he interacts with his wealthy parents who can’t get used to their less-than-normal son, and his relationship with his roommate (a nice performance from Jeff Daniels) is thoughtful and compelling. And once the characters are established, then the noirish crime elements are that much more satisfying.
I’m not arguing The Lookout is some kind of masterpiece. The bank robbery is fairly paint-by-numbers, and the blind character is one we’ve seen many times before, despite Daniels’s charisma. But this is the sort of movie Hollywood should be making–and getting behind. Movies that don’t insult your intelligence or make you feel dirty for watching. But because The Lookout has a small marketing budget, this is a movie where it’s up to the critics to let you know what you shouldn’t miss.
The Lookout: three 1/2 stars, out of five
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March 31st, 2007 at 1:55 pm
My wife and I were talking about criticism for a few seconds last night–after years of suffering the inanities of a worthless restaurant reviewer at the Dallas Morning News, there’s a new guy in town that Lorie likes, and that makes her happy because she enjoys restaurant reviews so much. Me, I go for film and book reviews more, but both of us are about equally unlikely to experience the restaurant, book, or film reviewed–even if it gets a rave. Even when I saw a lot more movies than I do now (15-20 in a month instead of 15-20 in 5 or 6 months), I also read a lot more reviews.
All that’s to say that the second function of a critic J. Robert mentions–drawing attention to things that the audience might otherwise overlook–is very important, but for me takes a back seat to getting me to think about movies in new ways. Beyond that, though, I think the thing I value most in criticism is getting me to think about *anything* in a new way.
For example, J. Robert’s jab about Guantanamo at the end of his Lives of Others review is interesting for the way that it demonstrates the liabilities of clichés not only in cinematic terms but also in political ones. The review of Jonestown re-presents the absences in the middle of that film: some explanation of how Jones’ brutality and progressivism are related to one another; how did he–even if it was in some pathological way–resolve the disparity between those two? (We could certainly think about it in the filmic terms how how that film resolves–or doesn’t–the juxtaposition between the images and the recollections. But the question also has a broader validity that’s worth considering even if you never see the film–which I probably won’t.)
Maybe I’m not the target audience for most criticism. Heaven knows that the Dallas Morning News has decided that its audience is adequately served by wire-service reviews of films and books that have no interest in saying much beyond whether the work in question is enjoyable or not. But for me, the act of reading criticism can be as rewarding (and frustrating) as a trip to the theater or an hour or two with a novel. So I think critics should aim to write something that stands on its own merits.
Which is why I’m happy whenever J. Robert posts anything here.