I regret that I haven't seen Guillermo Del Toro's "Hellboy" (2004) or "Hellboy II: The Golden Army" (2008), though De. Toro's "Pan's Labyrinth" was my top movie of 2006. Andrew Tracy at Reverse Shot evidently isn't impressed with the Hellboys, and I say "evidently" because I'm putting off reading the whole of his review of the new one until I've seen it.
But that hasn't stopped me from relishing the first two paragraphs! Because Tracy is articulating thoughts I've often entertained but too rarely raised in public. He begins:
Talking faux-seriously about juvenilia has become a marvelous way to avoid talking seriously about the serious. The slew of hyperbolic, overheated critical rhetoric that follows in the wake -- hell, in advance of -- the latest high concept blockbuster is enough to make one gag. In these cases, critical investigation has by and large become a matter of repeating verbatim the films' stridently announced surface-level themes with some linguistic curlicues and intellectual tumbling tossed in.
As it has so often, commercial calculation finds a willing handmaiden in critical laziness, even (or perhaps especially) that evinced by those more intelligent and discerning writers who devote their efforts and talents towards designing elaborate intellectual justifications for films that neither require nor deserve them.Woo-hoo! There's some provocative material for debate there. Of course, I see various shades to this argument, and I'm pulled in one direction and then another, but I'm sure we've all read pseudo-(anti?)intellectual criticism of the type Tracy describes. Craft is always worth talking about as far as l'm concerned (if only to point out the emptiness of a particular exercise), as is a how a movie fits into or challenges contemporary pop culture, politics, etc. Those can be worthwhile subjects, and as I like to say, movies aren't made in a vacuum. They always have something to do with the times in which they're made. (I like Sean Axmaker's current e-mail signature, attributed to Arnaud Desplechin: "You can't stop a film from meaning things.")
In the New York Times, A.O. Scott seems to be touching on something close to what Tracy is getting at. Writing about the summer glut of superhero movies, he says:
These movies wear their allegorical hearts on their cartoon sleeves, dressing up their stories with intimations of topicality overt, like the Afghan kidnappers in "Iron Man," and indirect, like the ruminations on due process and torture in "The Dark Knight." [...]So, are some movies just inherently too dumb (or shallow or generic) to justify criticism? I don't think that's what Tracy and Scott are saying. But I think I do understand the impulse behind some of these sentiments. That's one big reason I was happy to give up daily newspaper reviewing back in the Los Angeles of the early 1990s. As I put it then: I was seeing too many movies that were bad (and shallow and generic) in exactly the same ways, week after week. These formula-fitting products just didn't interest me, and I was weary of trying to find new ways of writing about them that didn't bore me (and readers) to death. (Theoretically, of course, there is nothing to prevent a superhero movie from being used to flesh out any theme or metaphor like any other, including genre pictures like horror movies or westerns or detective thrillers. "Nosferatu" or "Psycho" or "The Searchers" or "Chinatown," anyone? But how many of them even try to expand beyond the constricts of their genre?)I don't want to start any fights with devout fans or besotted critics. I'm willing to grant that "The Dark Knight" is as good as a movie of its kind can be. But that may be damning with faint praise. [...]
And yet stating such themes is as far as the current wave of superhero movies seems able or willing to go. The westerns of the 1940s and '50s, obsessed with similar themes, were somehow able, at their best, as in John Ford's "Searchers" and Howard Hawks's "Rio Bravo," to find ambiguities and tensions buried in their own rigid paradigms.
But the cowboys of old did not labor under the same burdens as their masked and caped descendants. Those poor, misunderstood crusaders must turn big profits on a global scale and satisfy an audience hungry for the thrill of novelty and the comforts of the familiar. Is it just me, or is the strain starting to show?
Let me continue with Andrew Tracy's next paragraph:
What's most obscene about this pop-cultural mythmaking is that it works so resolutely against expanding taste or knowledge about movies. By focusing so obsessively and voluminously on the most readily, tyrannically available items, critical discussion is not simply reflecting the commercial film distribution situation in North America, but actively contributing to it. By elevating the latest pop detritus to the level of godhead, by implicitly declaring the centrality of pop moviemaking (most often bad pop moviemaking) above all else, it only further occludes those films that don't have the advantage of being relentlessly drilled into our consciousness by the marketing machine. Why bother wrestling in print with films that are challenging, strange, obscure, or entertaining in different and novel ways when The Truth is playing in 2500 theatres?I submit this is a challenge we should all take seriously and explore for ourselves. When it comes to the "high vs. low culture" dilemma, similar if not identical to what Tracy is describing here, I tend to be agnostic. I would never say that run-of-the-mill studio "product" could not offer something of critical interest. (Read Thomas Schatz's "The Genius of the System: Hollywood Filmmaking in the Studio Era" for a wonderful company-by-company guide to studios' individual hallmarks, from roughly 1920 to 1960.) I tried to analyze cinematic craft and grammar in writing about, for example, what I saw as a cynical product called "Speed Racer." Interestingly, it split commenters right down the middle. Likewise, just because Quentin Tarantino slaps his name on some sludge he dredged up from his video-store days (a martial arts extravaganza, or a black-leather exploitation movie) because he thinks it's cool (and somebody thinks its potentially profitable in the here and now), does that make it inherently more "interesting" that it would have been otherwise? I think it's important (foolish and naive though I may be) to raise such questions, and to try to articulate what I see as worthwhile artistic (and/or industrial) distinctions between movies -- even ones that, on the surface, may seem generically similar. I always thought that was a key part of the critic's function -- and (why not?) every critically engaged moviegoer's sense of curiosity.
Yet, to present evidence and reasoning to make a case that such pictures are trite and sloppy and inept is not only to risk sounding like a cranky old spoilsport, but I suspect to give the movies themselves more detailed attention than they really deserve (or can support). Hey, they're just fun, aren't they? Well, yes, to some people they are, and there's no reason to support or pooh-pooh them on those flimsy grounds. Is that really a critic's job, to identify the presence of subjective "fun-ness" in a motion picture? Who wants or needs to read a critic (even an old-timey one) to discover that? How does that add anything to somebody's perception of a movie? Joe Bob Briggs was quite entertaining in a pseudo-redneck kind of way, but the self-styled anti-snobs actually took him seriously, whether they knew it (or cared to admit it) or not. Yeah, they "got" the joke, but they also believed in it.
The danger (and it is a real danger, I think) is the dumbing-down of critical standards (yawn) to the point where we fail to apply critical methods to film at all. Most moviegoers say they don't trust critics, don't read them, and aren't interested in their opinions. They've always said that. A lot of them are lying or fooling themselves, but I think we should take them at their word and stop pretending that we're writing for them. Millions of people watch movies (it may still be the most popular leisure activity in the United States, I don't know for sure), but only a tiny fraction of them read (or claim to read) reviews. Editors need to stop demanding that critics should be writing for the very people who don't read them. And don't want to and wouldn't care about what they say anyway. Harrumph!
I'm not saying that a critic or reviewer's job (I'm trying not to use "critic" and "reviewer" interchangeably here, but I may slip up) is to promote "specialty" films just because they're "indie" productions or made in a foreign language. There's more than enough crap that falls into those categories, especially given the unfairness and inadequacies of U.S. distribution and exhibition. To give something extra credit just because of the circumstances under which it was made or released is deeply insulting -- like people who don't see the condensation in their self-satisfyingly "generous" behavior toward a disabled person, or the racism in their "positive" treatment of a person of color. Once you start putting films, or people, into your neat little categories for special consideration, you're patronizing them, ghettoizing them, treating them as something (or someone) less worthy, not more. (No, I'm not talking about affirmative action, the idea behind which is institutionalized equal opportunity to balance current and historical institutionalized disadvantages.)
A film can lack "production values" and still be a great film. But that doesn't change what's on the screen, though it's often considered unfair to say so. After all, the movie was made for only $XXXXX! And today, many overblown big-budget movies adopt what were once considered low-budget aesthetics (shaky-cam, digital grain, etc.) to appear more "gritty" or "realistic" (or, as David Bordwell has observed, to cover a multitude of sins, including plain old sloppiness and laziness.)
I'm sure I've strayed far from what Andrew Tracy and A.O. Scott were talking about in my stream-of-consciousness argument (with myself). Please weigh in with your thoughts.
"These movies wear their allegorical hearts on their cartoon sleeves..."
This is where A.O. Scott lost me completely. He singles out a potential genre because it's new and popular.
Studios have always grabbed onto what's done well. Film Noir started out as a low budget nothing style of film making, until those little "B" movies grabbed audiences attention. Then they slurpped them up, then the best of the film makers around took that genre and said things with it. And many times they wore their "allegorical hearts on their sleeves". And they are now considered classics. Even greats like "Chinatown" and "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" wore their "allegorical hearts on their sleeves". God I hate that line so much.
I have to qualify that I'm not talking from a fanboy perspective when I say this but "The Dark Knight" was just as good as both of those Jack Nicholson films. (A movie about torture? Did he see the same movie?)
"And yet stating such themes is as far as the current wave of superhero movies seems able or willing to go." What else is a movie supposed to do. Does he want answers posted on his forehead so when he goes home and looks in the mirror he can nod in appreciation that it had to be spelled out for him. Hogwash and gibberish.
My opinion.
Tracy's evaluation...seems to forget that there are more bad movies made in any specific genre or popular style of film than there are good, at any given point in time. It's not just the big budget super hero movies. Does Tracy know how much Indie crap is slung at the silver screen, but I guess since they don't make as much money right now, or that Tracy only goes to see the "good ones" it doesn't fit into the equation. Again, this argument is short sighted and misses any reasonable mark on what's happening in film, ever.
Yeuch! I have to go shower now.
Oh, missed a point, they got me so riled up.
Another lazy thing I've seen reviewers do, and Ebert is also guilty of this, is to simply lay out the movie scene by scene and say "I enjoyed it." Critical appraisal goes out the door for a lengthy synopsis.
It's why I don't read reviews anymore until I've seen the movie and written about it myself.
And those two condescending "intellectuals" above still have me riled up.
It's interesting the trajectory you took after reading those articles, because I've been going through that same kind of questioning for the past year or so. Ever since my senior year in high school, I've wanted to be a movie critic, even though I haven't gotten much of a chance to review movies. I still read a lot of criticism and watch the classics of the past to expand my cinema knowledge and taste, but it just doesn't seem worth it sometimes. I try to tell my friends and family, "well, you should see x or y, because artistically, they are absolutely brilliant and say a lot about humanity," but they dismiss it after seeing it soon after. They're all in the opinion that film critics just don't care that a film entertains them, and they'll see lesser quality films because they like it, and are willing to gloss over the flaws of a film if it appealed to their base instincts and fandom.
On top of this, the potential of the newspaper industry collapsing in the next ten years or so has me questioning what I want to do. Before, when I entered college, I definitely knew I wanted to be a movie critic. But now, I've tempered my dreams by just being happy to get a job anywhere at a newspaper, while at the same time planning to go to grad school to study philosophy.
I think that for film criticism in "traditional" media, this "high art vs. low art" debate is a struggle for where the true direction of film criticism will go. Will it relegated to a niche market, where only the intellectual and/or older generation reads it as part of their tradition, or can it adapt to the Internet and make it more accesible while losing some of it's soul in the process? I still have two years of being an undergrad to decide on my future, but I am at a crossroads.
There was a time when I, too, felt as if Hollywood was the culprit behind bad films being made, but as has already been pointed out, there is an overabundance of independent crap in the marketplace as well, and to some extent, I am thankful that I only have the ability to see a certain amount of it in my much smaller distribution market of South Carolina. Do I wish I could see more, yes, but more often than not I'd prefer to watch the smaller stuff on DVD anyway, avoiding the headaches of theatrical presentation of a film no one in the auditorium seems to care about.
What I think is the main problem is that, and I'm guilty of this as well, there is far too much "fanboy" criticism when it comes to comic books movies/movies based on any beloved property. This does, of course, have its place, as it is intended to tell others as familiar and fanatical about the film's subject as the critic is how exactly the movie fits into the property, and to discuss it almost exclusively in such terms. No offense, but I doubt A.O. Scott and Andrew Tracy do much reading of comic book criticism in their spare time. But, like any academic pursuit, it is indeed there, and should be, to inform reviewers of the "fanboy" variety on their readings of films just as psychoanalytic theory, literary criticism, history, and any other number of things are their to inform their reviews (hopefully) of any film they wish to write about, and in any way they want to discuss it.
Back to the topic at hand, now, and the HELLBOY films, which many critics have had similar problems with. I think the main problem comes from the fact that Del Toro has directed stunning, "great" films in the past, like PAN'S LABYRINTH and THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE. I personally don't think there's any problem with his "mainstream" work (anyone who calls Hellboy mainstream is a bit misinformed), which demonstrates the same level of competency and artistic integrity as his best work. There is, however, what I think the critics perceive as a detriment or hindrance to his work in HELLBOY: the fact that he is playing in another person's world, dabbling in trifles and coming out with a hodgepodge of themes, styles and wildly divergent techniques which stray more and more from the practical effects love he genuinely has in him. The two HELLBOY films are adaptations of a comic that is exactly the same way, with extremely cornball humor thrown into the sci-fi/horror mix in a wondrously odd way.
But now I'm rambling. My point here is that two people have a problem with praise of something that is actually the most accurate adaptation of source material this summer (although THE DARK KNIGHT is a very, very close second, if for no other reason than several backstories and relationships are changed to fit the purpose of the film, and I'm fine with that - it's a better movie than HELLBOY II is). What I think is truly disturbing to me is that it is for similar reasons that critics seem to love THE DARK KNIGHT, but dislike HELLBOY, at least in most instances I've read.
I'd love to hear your reaction after seeing HELLBOY II in particular, as I don't think anyone could really call that movie conventional in any traditional sense. It's too wild-eyed and frizzy, and too much fun to dismiss out-of-hand.
Talking faux-seriously about juvenilia...The slew of hyperbolic, overheated critical rhetoric that follows in the wake...of the latest high concept blockbuster is...by and large become a matter of repeating verbatim the films' stridently announced surface-level themes...critical laziness...
YES! Movies like the recent "Spider-man," "Batman," and "Children of Men" are not "highbrow" or "lowbrow" but "middlebrow," i.e., they take what would have been left as subtext in a "lowbrow" genre film and spell it out. Or, in the case of "Atonement," they take what would have been left as subtext in a "highbrow" art movie and spell it out, too (usually in an impassioned Oscarclip speech).
The "with great power comes great responsibility" near the end of "Spider-man 2" is pretty unforgivable. By spelling out their messages (a message is a theme that's been announced), they do the critic's work for him, which is why these films get stunningly high ratings on the TomatoMeter. Unfortunately, by announcing their one-and-only meaning, it usually shortens their shelf-life because ambiguity helps give art longevity.
"Robocop," silly as it is, springs to mind as a good way to carry heavy themes in lowbrow pulp. No one IN "Robocop" talks about the Christ allegory or the anti-corporation themes or the satire on Reaganomics; all we SEE is a bunch of mayhem and one-liners. So the movie appears ambiguous and, like "Fight Club," can get mistaken for promoting that which it is satirizing, and get a lower TomatoMeter score.
Yet let's be compassionate about the "middlebrow" movie. The hardest thing to get right in art is subtlety; because the artist is the only person in the world who knows EXACTLY what point he's trying to make, he's the worst person in the world to tell if he's being as opaque as Tarkovsky or hammering his point with a sledgehammer. Ideally, I want to leave a movie with a vague glimmer of its possible meanings and for it to take years of living with and digesting (although not necessarily re-watching) for me to feel like I "get" it.
If I "get" a movie the first time I see it, I may like it, but forget about it over time. A completely opaque movie can be almost as irritating as one that blasts its message with a foghorn. Which of these categories apply to which people, and which they like the most, is subjective.
These movies wear their allegorical hearts on their cartoon sleeves, dressing up their stories with intimations of topicality overt, like the Afghan kidnappers in "Iron Man," and indirect, like the ruminations on due process and torture in "The Dark Knight."
Scott--a critic I admire--commits two pretty grave sins in this little paragraph alone.
1) That line that riles Phillip up so much (and rightly so) about "wearing allegorical hearts on their sleeves"... I don't know if Scott lost this in his notes or something, but these are superhero movies. The concept of a superhero is that of an archetype made manifest in the flesh, and this has always been the case, for as long as superhero titles have existed. Batman doesn't represent order; Batman IS order. The Joker doesn't "believe" in nihilism; the Joker IS nihilism. And so on. At their best, superhero stories are psychodramas where the ideas we hold sacred can literally fight it out for dominance. And that is something TDK does very, very well.
2) Critics making a swipe at "timeliness" when analyzing genre films drives me absolutely insane, and horror films suffer more from this than superhero movies do. (Anyone remember when critics tried to tell us The Ring was about avian bird flu?) It's as if no one ever had their head dunked in water or said "mission accomplished" or "stay the course" before the year 2000, the way these guys talk. These critics don't seem to realize--despite watching several decades' worth of movies, which are themselves like little pop culture time capsules--that these themes are universal, and often manifest themselves in strikingly similar ways over the years, decades, or centuries. That's what makes them universal.
Also, if Scott thinks the ending to TDK is unambigiuous in its morality, he was clearly watching a different movie than I was. Me? I think it's wonderful that we're using the tools of pop culture to tackle some pretty heavy stuff head on.
I agree that critics should turn their faculties to movies off the beaten path, because quite frankly, if they don't... who will? But two things are unavoidable about the blockbusters being lamented here: they are very well made, and they are very successful (meaning a hell of a lot of people saw them). That alone makes them newsworthy, don't you think?
I've always thought Reverse Shot was faux-intellectual, contrarian posturing, myself.
If you read the entirety of the Hellboy II piece, it's mainly just an excuse to hang some filmsy thesis statements (the only worthwhile part of which you've already picked out) that have little or nothing to do with the movie itself. There are a few times when Tracy tries so hard to misunderstand action scenes or obvious jokes that he reminds me of the Asperger's kids my mom works with. At one point he gets so desperate for stones to throw that he goes from deriding the movie because it's a big studio movie (the basis of his thesis) to mocking it for having a low budget. The review as a whole reads as someone grasping for straws, pulling out anything that will make his hip, smart readers turn against the movie.
Obviously Tracy had some thoughts he wanted to put out, and rather than just put them on a blog decided to shoehorn them into a review of a movie that, if anything, proves his thesis wrong.
I've always thought Reverse Shot was faux-intellectual, contrarian posturing, myself.
If you read the entirety of the Hellboy II piece, it's mainly just an excuse to hang some filmsy thesis statements (the only worthwhile part of which you've already picked out) that have little or nothing to do with the movie itself. There are a few times when Tracy tries so hard to misunderstand action scenes or obvious jokes that he reminds me of the Asperger's kids my mom works with. At one point he gets so desperate for stones to throw that he goes from deriding the movie because it's a big studio movie (the basis of his thesis) to mocking it for having a low budget. The review as a whole reads as someone grasping for straws, pulling out anything that will make his hip, smart readers turn against the movie.
Obviously Tracy had some thoughts he wanted to put out, and rather than just put them on a blog decided to shoehorn them into a review of a movie that, if anything, proves his thesis wrong.
And to clarify, I'm an intellectual and make non-narrative art films, and if I met anyone who writes for Reverse Shot at a party, I would punch them in the face.
The real problem with those twits is their quantification of an entire genre as inherently or intrinsically puerile.
"'The Dark Knight' is as good as a movie of its kind can be."
Of its "kind"? So, it doesn't MATTER what they do, they're inherently limited? Period?
So are there genres/"kinds" that are "better" for being "deep"? And what does "can be" mean? It's impossible for them to be as ambiguous as Ford's westerns?
This is ludicrous--and worth noting that many of Ford's films were NOT treated as ambiguous at the time, instead being called racist by many. But, beyond that, The Dark Knight is rather ambiguous, suggesting there's a fine line, one that breaks rules and pushes acceptance but is possibly necessary. Certainly, it's decided that it IS necessary in Gotham, but there's no less (internal) conflict over that fact.
Now, if we could see something like Watchmen done right (which unfortunately is unlikely to happen) this "kind" would be opened up--no longer the restraints of an established character who "DOES. NOT. KILL." (though even there, many of these characters have been taken through that particular murky swamp). Perhaps that's the restraint we refer to? An established character not allowed to hit overtly grey territory? But, does this territory require murder? Couldn't their tactics become more violent without that and still be thought of as perhaps reasonably ambiguous?
Lots of different things at play here. Hmm.
To be sure, this has been an unusually packed summer. Lots of big releases attracting critical attention for one reason or another- IRON MAN because of Downey, SPEED RACER due to its style, INDIANA JONES 4 because hey, Spielberg, WALL-E because hey, Pixar, HELLBOY II because of Del Toro, DARK KNIGHT because the buzz has been so good. There's a lot of new stuff just flying out there and critics find it worth talking about beyond initial reviews.
The drawback to this is that yes, discussion of older and/or more obscure material gets lost in the shuffle. Hopefully we're coming up on a relative dearth of big new releases and will be able to talk about other stuff for a while, but if a new release is worth discussing, it's worth discussing.
As to whether these movies merit deep analysis, well, often non-genre film isn't any more subtle (see Allen, Woody). More to the point, I'm not even sure a movie has to be any good to be worth analyzing- all pictures carry baggage both intentional and unintentional, and the merit of discussion is in what the critic is able to say and justify with supports. It may look kind of silly to see someone discussing the philosophical roots of XANADU, but if it's a good argument why not?
As for evaluating these films, well, it's about how well it's done, isn't it? I don't think THE DARK KNIGHT is a great movie because it has political themes, I think it's a great film because it's able to work those themes into an emotionally affecting narrative. Also it has the world's most bad-ass bank manager.
Jim,
I'm surprised and flattered that you used my piece as a springboard for your own thoughts, and I'm gratified to know you think this is a conversation worth having.
I'd like to address a word to Phillip. Firstly, never at any point do I contend that low-budget "indie" films are inherently better or more worthwhile than big-budget entertainment. Regardless of any one film's specific virtues or failings - both of which are entirely valid and worthy topics of discussion, as Jim points out - what I find most troubling about this collusion between "big" movies and critical discourse is that it targets precisely that sliver of the population who care enough to read reviews seriously; precisely those people (often young people) who have an interest in film as an art form and are starting to find ways to think about and articulate their ideas and feelings about that art form.
The problem, as I see it, is this. Rather than encouraging those people already inclined to take cinema seriously to truly explore it in its entirety (an impossible task, of course, but that's the kind of mindset any cinephile needs to motivate themselves), the fake aura of "seriousness" which blockbusters like Dark Knight drape themselves in co-opts many of those people who are, or wish to be, genuinely serious about film. It's not that there should be no room for (good) entertainment, and it's not that everybody who likes these films are dumb - it's that these films, and the critical gaseousness around them, hijack those people who want to see more, feel more, experience more through film. Rather than opening gateways, these films are crowding out what they, as business ventures, necessarily regard as the competition: not content just to monopolize theatre screens, now they're attempting to monopolize intelligent film discourse as well. And thus those people still learning about the medium can, I believe, be dissuaded from discovering things that would move them or excite them in different ways than Hollywood blockbusters (the good ones included).
I'm not saying that popular films should be ignored, even if that were possible - I'm saying that, as viewers, people who are genuinely interested in film should make an equal place for other kinds of films in their cinematic diet. And as for critics, well - many of them should just exercise some common ^$^$*^% sense.
I'll leave it at that for the moment, Jim (and Phillip), but I'll be interested to hear any further thoughts you or others may have.
There are movies that are beneath criticism for the very reasons Tracy argues. Plenty of blah fare gets far too much ink.
I'd say his argument is valid. But his threshold is set too high.
A "critic-proof" genre movie isn't necessarily critic-unworthy.
Just as a random example: A mega-popular, well-lensed film about some crazy bat-man running around busting criminals (without the niceties of the rule of law/the eventual consequences) in this foul era of Bush, is automatically interesting.
Counter-programmed romantic comedies that take place on song-filled islands probably don't require as much comment.
But criticism isn't a limited commodity, so there's really no reason to conserve, and if someone wants to read or write surface-level "message" analysis of juvenilia I don't think the arthouse will crumble.
I have to agree with Phillip - Tracy is betraying an obvious bias which is blinding him to both potential AND meaning. I will be the first to say that the "superhero" genre has not yet reached the aesthetic and literary heights that other genres MAY have (and I reserve the right to doubt whether many of these genres, especially Westerns, horror, and courtroom dramas, have ever actually broken out of their conventions to make more of a textured statement than "The Dark Knight"), but give it time: other the escapades of two heroes, Batman and Superman, the genre is barely eight or nine years old. Think of the state of Westerns in the 1930's: until Stagecoach came along, Cimarron was the standout example of the genre. It took Westerns nearly twenty-years, and considerable national history under the bridge to reach the heights that the "fanboys" of the genre ascribe to it. Ditto many of the other standouts in other genres. So let's be burying the baby under the weight of our oh-so-adult expectations.
doesn't Tracy's basic thesis fly in the face of thousands of years of storytelling? Why insist that films dealing with "serious themes" do so in an outright manner, instead of using a veil (a la Dark Knight or Hellboy II)?
Aren't [some] superhero stories working within a literary framework that is no less veiled, foundational, or obvious than, say, "The Iliad," or "The Metamorphosis"?
Of course, there are dumb blockbusters and superhero movies that [pretend] to have something more important to say. However, surely if Mr. Tracy has a problem with The Dark Knight or Iron Man dealing with "issues" in the manner in which they do...then I assume he would apply that same standard to a story about a man turning into a "giant vermin."
Andrew:
the fake aura of "seriousness" which blockbusters like Dark Knight drape themselves in co-opts many of those people who are, or wish to be, genuinely serious about film.
This is where you fall flat. You seem fundamentally incapable of assuming the filmmakers of big-budget movies can be operating in good faith; to you it's all a pretense, a posture, a way to tart up material you consider beneath you. I wish I could come up with a more complex argument than "you are wrong," but... you are. If you're unwilling to engage the material at all, well, no wonder you think it's beneath you.
'the fake aura of "seriousness" which blockbusters like Dark Knight drape themselves in co-opts many of those people who are, or wish to be, genuinely serious about film.'
Well, the question I have for you (and you're gonna love this) is...Why So Serious?
First I think it's ludicrous to say true film lovers will be "co-opted" by the "faux-seriousness" of The Dark Knight from enjoying admittedly better movies by, you know, Truffaut and all those guys. Anyone who knows the slightest bit about movies knows what levels of "seriousness" they exist on and won't be fooled by one over another.
I won't argue that The Dark Knight is a genuinely serious - or at least higher-minded - movie, even if it paints in broad strokes (as opposed to a subtle, quietly moving super hero movie); because you seem deadset on believing the obvious.
As I was reading this, I kept being drawn back to Soren Kierkegaard's quote: "Once you label me, you negate me." How can we know when we're justly critical of a certain film (for any number of reasons), or simply because some unconsious label we've slapped it with doesn't jive with our own sentiments (even the most "open" filmgoers can be guilty of this too).
I understand what Tracy is saying, and I mostly agree with his reservations, though I'm much less pessimistic and cynical about the relationship between current Hollywood output and critical discourse as he clearly is. Hey, I'm the one who was at or near the front of the midnight lines for Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, Hellboy II, and The Dark Knight. There's also an unmistakeable specter of snobbery in his arguments that deserves criticism, but sadly, too often the result of such a thoughtfully provocative piece is a knee-jerk reaction from the other side, even from intelligent people, that focuses too narrowly on certain aspects of the piece and thereby is unable to comprehend the whole point (or misses the point entirely).
Although Tracy has graciously come here to offer further defense and clarification of his thoughts, I still don't think that what he's trying to say has been expressed clearly enough, so I'll take a stab at it. The relationship between critics, audiences, the movies, and the studios is an awfully complicated one, but for argument's sake, we can say that the behaviors of all of them are generally guided by certain attitudes toward the movies, which create feedback loops as a result of the dual nature of cinema as an art/entertainment/communication medium and as a business.
Most of the movies that most of the public see every year are the output of the studios, whose top priority is making financially viable and potentially lucrative product. Although the thought processes that go into greenlighting decisions are surely complex, I think that we can all agree that most often, studios executives look at box office numbers to guide their decisions, and they tend to ignore almost everything else. A recent example that comes to mind is the grave miscalculation known as Eragon, which came amidst the fantasy renaissance in Hollywood not too long before The Golden Compass ended it (outside of the Harry Potter series). Instead of taking a good look at what actually made Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, and Narnia so successful, the studio brass assumed that another big screen adaptation of a (somewhat) popular fantasy novel would bring in the cash.
In hindsight, we can clearly see that Eragon was a doomed prospect for reasons that should've been obvious before the undertaking was begun. But still, the studios' filmmaking strategies continue to be based upon what they see as popular, and so the success of Spider-Man has only spurred them into a frenzy about adapting superhero comics. Now, The Dark Knight will only encourage them more. This is something that all cinephiles should regard with dread. Truly great superhero movies, like truly great movies in general, are cause for celebration, but that certainly shouldn't mean that we should welcome or accept the inundation of countless other superhero movies that Hollywood thinks that we want.
But what Hollywood does is partly the fault of the mass audience. The general moviegoing public has the attitude that watching movies is generally about having a good time. They're not looking for art—at least not consciously—they're looking for easy excitement and stimulation. That's why they almost always have at least some interest in an action movie or a star-headlined comedy. That's why these movies keep making hundreds of millions of dollars. Fortunately, the general audience is capable of having particularly strong reactions to certain movies, as can be seen in the continued enthusiasm for The Dark Knight a week into its run. Yes, just about everybody agrees that it's "awesome."
But the problem is that they're not demanding the studios to make sure that every superhero movie is as "awesome" as The Dark Knight. No, the average moviegoer is depressingly passive. So what happens? The studios look at the critical and box office successes of movies like Spider-Man 2 and The Dark Knight and decide that more comic book adaptations are warranted. They don't care about artistic risks or quality; they just want a serviceable product. They release the product in at least 3,500 theaters to make sure that everybody in America has access to it. And the masses, attracted by the promise of spectacle, buy into the product merely looking for a good time. And of course, most of the time, they are "satisfied." That's because their standards are so low that they will label mediocre product "good" if it offers them escapism and a few thrills.
And that's how mediocre movies manage to make so much money. Even properties like the widely-derided Fantastic Four franchise have no trouble making $150M (domestic). And when the studios see $150M, they declare a success, and decide to keep making more of the same. The studio executives will justify their decisions by parroting the line about how people "vote with their dollars," but Hollywood's bottom-line-minded output merely limits the range of product available to the public, and the public's perception of what movies mean to them becomes shaped by this limiting effect. Thus, the average moviegoer is increasingly conditioned to believe that movies in general should offer the "good time" offered by blockbusters, that they shouldn't be challenged to expand their taste, and that mediocrity is good enough when it comes to entertainment. This is partly what Tracy is trying to say.
Those attitudes and behaviors of the studios and the masses have a huge influence on critics working in mainstream media. Editors and critics themselves scramble to cover each studio tentpole release out of a desire for "relevance," a desire to meet popular demand, and a genuine journalistic desire. If a studio positions a release as an "event," then why not report on it? These motivations are what cause the overwhelming skew in coverage for big studio releases versus obscure (typically "independent") releases. And don't forget that critics and reviewers are humans, too, so they can understandably get caught up in the hype surrounding The Dark Knight or WALL-E. So I can't much begrudge the majority of critics, who fail to champion the smaller movies and refuse to review the big titles. This is just the way that the world works, and it can't be easily changed.
But the unfortunate side effect is that those critics don't maintain standards when they're evaluating blockbuster titles. They don't think that they should evaluate the big, expensive studio pictures as art in the same way that they do for overtly artsy fare. They want to grant action movies and comedies the value that these movies claim as entertainment; thus, if a movie is a fairly "good time," it will probably earn a passing grade. But here's the kicker: When a big studio movie does something beyond mere entertainment, when it seems to be "about" something and explores its themes in at least a somewhat intelligent manner, critics call the movie "exceptional." I don't believe that most critics who do this actually believe that these exceptional blockbusters are typically artistically comparable to other, more high-brow fare that they acclaim. So in that case, "exceptional" just means better than average, and if the average is moderately entertaining, then better-than-average must be remarkable, superior popular entertainment.
The problem is that when that happens, it confuses the general audience, whose tastes aren't so finely developed. And this is ultimately what Tracy is trying to say. The worry is that those in the general audience who do start to develop their cinephilia do so based on exposure to a limited range of movies and critical discourse. Their idea of a "good movie" is an average, mediocre piece of studio product, and when they read the critics, they adopt the idea that a "great movie" is the sort of "exceptional blockbuster" that I discussed above. This is why, as Tracy wrote, "talking faux-seriously about juvenilia...works so resolutely against expanding taste or knowledge about movies."
The "classics" by the "masters" of cinema used to be the standard for developing cinematic taste and knowledge. Sadly, for so many people, that's no longer true. Regardless of what you think of them, holding Hellboy II and The Dark Knight as the new standard is deeply troubling, and that's exactly what Tracy is (rightly) afraid will happen. My main disagreement with him is the same as what most people here have taken the time to state, which is that a superhero movie, and other such "juvenilia," can be a transcendent, genuine, and great piece of art, which is what I happen to find The Dark Knight to be.
Tracy wants to condemn all such movies as part of the problem, which is probably why he thinks that the serious nature of The Dark Knight (and Hellboy II, to a lesser extent) is a "fake" affectation. So I decry his, and A.O. Scott's, prejudice and think that their outrage needs to be more finely tuned and targeted. If movies like The Dark Knight (and maybe Hellboy II, of which I am not a fan) are not to be considered mere juvenilia, then critics need to show that these movies are genuine art on a level with other art movies, and that everything else is mere fluff, no matter how intelligently executed it may be. They need to stop feeding the confusion between real art cinema and merely "exceptional" blockbusters.
Also, I have a bone to pick with you, Kevin L. You may style yourself as an "intellectual," but your comments clearly suggest otherwise. Rather than trying to engage with what the writer actually says, you simply write off the entire publication with an unsubstantiated claim of contrarian posturing. It's really little better than juvenile name-calling, and it may be more offensive, since you do so with an air of pretentiousness. Even more outrageous is your claim that you will punch writers just for working for Reverse Shot, which I can only hope was meant as a joke.
That said, I do agree with your objections regarding the content of Tracy's "review." Ranting about the state of Hollywood and film criticism in substitution of an actual engaged discussion of the movie is a dubious affair, though I do understand why he does it (i.e. he feels that there's not much to say about the movie itself).
I don't believe in any arbitrary separation between high and low culture: this only hurts films on both ends of the spectrum. The worst thing that ever happened to art-house films is that they got condemned to the art-house ghetto, though DVD compensates a great deal for this nowadays.
However, I have always found it quite bizarre to see the same critical standards applied to films that are obviously intended as pure product and films that are not. I believe that some films should be analyzed exactly in the same ways that one would analyze the launch of Coke Zero or the Southern Chicken Sandwich from McDonald's.
None of this means that pop culture isn't worthy of analysis, and that some of it isn't fabulous. I'll take Iron Man over 95% of the Indie films I expect to see this year (if not more.)
The bigger problem here (and pardon my nascent Marxism) is that the media allows capital to determine significance. If a movie is "BIG" (i.e. cost a lot of money) it must be important enough to provide substantial coverage to because, well, it's big. The mainstream film media does not function as an independent entity but as an adjunct to the Hollywood publicity machine. They provide free advertising about these "important" movies and pull in more readers and more advertisers, usually the same studios that provide enough capital to make these films "important" and the cycle repeats.
I see this in play at the website I write for all the time. Our editor and news writers invariably devote "top story" space to whatever the "biggest" movie is, precisely because it is big and precisely because that will produce more hits and precisely because that will (only occasionally, in our case) bring in more advertising. This is all discussed quite eloquently by Jonathan Rosenbaum in "Movie Wars."
And on a side note, Dark Knight sure as heck IS a movie about torture. I wasn't reviewing the movie I had already composed my first line: "So now we know that Batman is pro-Gitmo."
Jim,
I think the job of the critic should be targeting those who would seek the critics opinion.
I can think of an example of when I was finishing up my degree. I had to read the short story "The Bear" by William Faulkner, and I remember thouroughly enjoying the story when I initially read it. When it came time to write the term paper I needed schollery sources, so I delved into some pretty haughty essays about the meaning behind Faulkner's words.
I would never read essays like those unless I was in search of some form of deeper meaning behind the story. Faulkner, like all good authors has the ability to move the reader on the surface. Ian McEwan and Cormac McCarthy are modern examples of this; the ability to nail a phrase and create a text that, on the surface can lend itself to the cliche words found on dust jackets. But when one really digs deep, and puts more time and effort and repeated readings (or viewings if you will), then the text becomes more enriched; a better a way of seeing something beyond "entertaining" or various forms of catchalls.
I think this is relevant to any form of criticism. I disagree with one commenter that said there is nothing of value found in a synopsis of a film intermixed with comments from the critic. This is what basic criticism is. What is sad is that this basic criticism, this aping of dust jacket quotes appears in most major newspapers, not just local ones. I appreciate the work here and at sites like The House Next Door, because I know that a) I could never hope to articulate what Jim, and Keith and his writers, write-up on their sites; the quality and the insight found at both these sites is something I cherish and look for in a critic.
Which leads me to the second thing: I look for anything that helps me better understand the film/book/television show, whatever, and in return how that helps me better understand myself. Jim's recent essay on Fight Club is a perfect example of this.
I don't know if this type of criticism works for every film. As Jim said there are just too many movies that aren't really worth talking about, and some of these super-hero films essentially have their allegories printed in subtitles throughout the film. I have seen the negative side of these haughty reviews: Jonathan Rosenbaum is an amazing critic, but sometimes,where a simple review would suffice, he gets bogged down in writing for the aesthete about a movie they would probably have no interest in explicating further than an initial viewing. His readers, and readers of sites like this and The House Next Door are looking to go beyond film, in the same way I needed to look beyond "The Bear." Even though I was required to get those scholarly sources, I enjoyed what I read, because it helped me better understand the text.
These "expert" essays on the text or film or whatever kind of art you want to discuss, aide the reader/viewer so that on the third or fourth time they read the book/watch the movie, they will have a better understanding of its tropes and motifs and their deeper meaning; these will be in the back of their mind because of the good work and foundation laid out by the critic.
To me...this is the job of the critic, and I for one appreciate when they go a little bit deeper than the average moviegoer cares to.
I think a problem with A. O. Scott's piece (I haven't read the entirety of Mr. Tracy's piece) is that he claims that films like The Dark Knight are constricted by their genre, but, in fact, I think his primary complaint is based on how his *perception* of the genre affects his *perception* of the movie.
**VERY MILD SPOILER**
Scott contends that The Dark Knight, like most other superhero films, ends with a climactic superhero vs. superhero battle. If he genuinely believes this, he has been tricked by his preconceptions of the genre. Anyone who believes that the climax of the Dark Knight is in the confrontation between Batman and the Joker did not think very hard about the film.
Mark, "Unforgiven" does a mighty fine job of breaking free of the genre for which it was created. A lot of times it takes decades of separation from a popular form for a new filmmaker, or old one in that case, to truly dismantle what the genre is they are working in. (Kudos to the writer as well. Who wrote my fav "Bladerunner.")
Now, Tracy (nice to meet you), you unfortunately got some of the fallout of the very disturbing A.O. Scott article, though I think it's okay to "be happy and willing cogs" at times and to an extent, there's absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying a movie for what it is, and I think the level of happy showmanship has excelled over the years for summer blockbuster films (does anyone remember the years full of "Gone in 60 Seconds" and "Con Air"...oy! I prefer a couple characters magically appearing from nowhere in "Hellboy II"). But I agree with you that there is something wrong with over stuffing a movie with praise beyond what it deserves. Is that going to bring about an apocalyptic falling out of people wanting to take film seriously. Most film enthusiasts (Marty Scorcese, Spielberg, Eli Roth *ahem*) all fell in love with higher minded cinema because they first fell in love with the faux-serious genre of filmmaking.
"Mystic River" was given so much fawning praise that the films flaws were completely overlooked, and it had many. Strangely enough though that doesn't not make it a pretty effective movie. (2 Eastwood references so far...not intentional.) A lot of reviewers will not critically appraise a film that they, in the end, will enjoy or are effected by emotionally. I'm not entirely sure if there's not something wrong with that. There's a lot to be liked about "Mystic" but there's also a lot that falls short storytelling wise. I agree that there are flaws in Hellboy II, but I enjoyed it (reminded me of "Clash of the Titans"...awesome!) so why would I be too negative-a-Nelly? "Iron Man" had more nagging flaws to me than "HBII" and I'm 100 percent ready to admit to it.
Look at this years Sundance darling "The Wackness". It's full of everything that's bad about movies. Every theme is clearly defined by overtly obvious dialogue. Cliches abound! The next line of dialogue is supposed to be that much more important than the last - even when it's saying that the last line of dialogue is idealistically wrong, and even when the next line says that this line is BS. It's junk. Put a couple costumes on some of the characters and allow them the ability to jump around and see through things and then you have an allegory for what the movie is about. Doesn't necessarily make it a better movie. It would probably make more money. Wonder how that would be reviewed? Or if it would have gotten the Sundance award?
"What's most obscene about this pop-cultural mythmaking is that it works so resolutely against expanding taste or knowledge about movies." As any poorly made movie does? Or any great review about an awful movie does? I wonder why you think this? Someone who loves "The Dark Knight" is going to read the review I wrote and take note of the fact that I compare the skilled plotting of it to "Chinatown". They're going to go check out "Chinatown". From there, they'll take a look at another Polanski film -- say "Rosemary's Baby"...then maybe "The Shining", but what about "2001"? Wait a second Kubrick liked this guy named Tarkovsky? Who made a sci-fi film called "Solaris" at the same time "2001" cam out... This faux-seriousness thing really doesn't feel like it has anything to do with the rest of your argument... I don't know man. Hellboy II had a sadness at it's center that was effective. Sadness that the mysteries of this world are dying. You focused on the "X-Men" light theme that was going on, which is fine, but you missed the rest of the beauty that was in the movie. Sometimes a movie doesn't have to work on every level for it to be effective. To under praise a film is also just as bad as overpraising, and you're under praising because a comic book movie doesn't have the right to treat it's subject matter or characters or situations or themes seriously? Or that it's just incapable of doing so from the outset?
Mayazaki's "Princess Mononoke" is a serious cartoon. I hate it when people won't watch it because it's a cartoon or won't give it the respect it deserves. Or even "Howl's Moving Castle" whose story wasn't as tight or interesting but was beautiful never-the-less.
To lessen something because it's of a certain type of something or another I would feel drives those serious about finding out about film away. "This guy doesn't think the ingenuity in Hellboy II is worth any level of praise because other critics love it and he's going to recommend I see something, eh."
I remember seeing "Bladerunner" for the first time. A silly sci-fi film that absolutely no one loved, that has plotting problems, etc but it opened me up to what movies could be. That same night I watched "Evil Dead II", bad acting, bad dialogue - flipping awesome! My eyes were opened to a whole new playing field of films.
I think your rant/argument is kind of justified but it lacks the universal scope, and not a singular attack on an enjoyable genre producing some quality films, that it deserves.
Take the costume off Batman and The Dark Knight is still a great movie. Take the white hat off Nicholson and "Chinatown" still waxes the competition -- and wears everything on it's sleeve, Mr. A.O.! (Another thing A.O. -- is having Afghan kidnappers in "Iron Man" topical or relate-able? Or would you have rather them use the Vietcong as the original comic book did. That's what comic books are for...)
Film Noir is pretty melodramatic, pretty silly, pretty serious. Again it's something the studios got their hands on and churned out. Same with horror. And great directors got a hold of those genres and made some brilliant and serious movies. Same with sci-fi and western. I remember watching "Last House on the Left", trashy film, scary but trashy - faux-serious, who knows. Did it turn me off of "Virgin Spring"? Nope. Loved it.
I agree with you, except that condensation is water forming from water vapor.
Wow. Yet another provocative subject, with some excellent comments. Makes me wish I was in a room with all of you, sipping cocktails and expanding on these arguments.
Since I'm the world's slowest typist, I'll try to keep this short. Do you all remember "Superman: The Movie," that great 1978 blockbuster, which pleased both critics and audiences alike? Reminds me of a certain dark, bat-like blockbuster - not in theme but reaction. I remember the exact same arguments being brought up about whether critics were taking a comic book movie too seriously. 30 years later, I don't think the film industry, nor the state of movie criticism has been altered much, save for the disease of "opening weekends" which pretty well ended the possibility of movies actually staying for a decent run in the cinemas.
Movie genres wax and wane, but summer will always remain the silly season for audiences and critics alike. Perhaps the fact that "The Dark Knight" is getting praised will mean that a few more summer comic book movies will turn out to be less crappy, which will be a relief to us all. I think what is actually happening is that after sitting through so many bastardized adaptations, critics seem to be saying "it's about bloody time I watch another one of these teen fantasies and actually tolerate it right to the end." All the gushing reviews revealed more a sense of giddy relief than serious criticism, or in some cases "damn, I loved this movie, now what can I say that won't make me come across as some fanboy?" In a month from now the Oscar-baiting movies will start their run, and the superheroes will hang up their capes till next May.
What Mr. Tracy's article suggests is that movies should be made either just for the purpose of "low-brow" entertainment or just for the purpose of illustrating a theme. He is wrong. Roger Ebert would dismiss his article with his famous quote that a movie's greatness lies in HOW it is about something, not WHAT it is about.
I have not seen Hellboy II, but I imagine it is not a film that was driven by the filmmaker's desire to illustrate a theme. It was probably made to showcase imaginativeness and excitement. Is it bad that it also has themes? I think not. Themes, even if they are as simple as good and evil (and that, if you see The Dark Knight, is not as simple of a theme as it sounds) give movies a soul.
On the other hand, however, I will concede that something is amiss in the critics' review if the said critic makes themes the focus of that review. He should focus more on what Ebert mentions, HOW a movie illustrates its themes. What was it about that movie that struck you and made you think? Yes, there are themes to Hellboy, but that is probably not the point. Does that make Hellboy any lesser of a film? Well, compared to Citizen Kane, perhaps. But we should not dismiss a movie for wanting to be about something.
As for The Dark Knight...It seemed to me that this particular movie was indeed made to illustrate a theme. The themes on good vs. evil are so intricate and layered that I am convinced that Christopher Nolan would not have made the movie if he could not have made it about these themes. I am equally convinced that he will not make a third one unless he can find somewhere new intellectually to take this series.
Jim, you have written about the subject of content vs. style several times...you know as well as anyone that there are other ways to create great cinema than simply making a great theme. If The Dark Knight had had less thematic density, it still could have potentially been a great film.
I do not believe in dividing things into "highbrow" and "lowbrow", but I do believe that Mr. Tracy's article betrayed a strong personal condescension. He displayed his own willingness to label things when he said that these movies were pretenders to the throne of intellectual greatness, and that they were distracting everyone from the really "worthwhile" films. Did people dismiss The Searchers like this when it came out just because it was a western? Or Shane? What about the film-noirs, like The Maltese Falcon? Was John Huston trying to disguise some mediocre "genre" picture with themes that were still "intellectually inferior" to those of Renoir? Once again, Ebert's comment applies here.
Or how about a film with almost no "weighty" themes: Singin' in the Rain. Is this film substantially worse than Citizen Kane because its themes are so light-hearted? No, it is not.
So yes, I think it is good when a movie like Hellboy has intelligent themes to it. However, I do not think they should be the focus of serious criticism, since those aren't really what the film is about. Movies like The Dark Knight (light-years away from Hellboy in the director's approach) are another story.
And another thing. I'm glad Christopher Nolan did not approach his superhero film with the same attitude of a man like Tracy, thinking that he would be pretentious for emphasizing themes about good and evil. I'm glad John Ford didn't think that he was being pretentious when he decided to give The Searchers, a western, its strongly accented subtext about the mutual racism on the frontier. I'm glad that Martin Scorsese didn't think he was pretentious when he decided to make Raging Bull about masculinity.
None of these films I mentioned completely abandoned the form of their genre - they just used that form as a starting point for some deeper probing. What worries me more than the dumbing-down of film criticism is that critics will force certain genres of film to dumb themselves down. If people like A.O. Scott continue to say things like this, then in a few years any filmmaker making a superhero movie will feel obligated to keep it simple and keep a low intellectual profile, and they'll all wind up as heartless and brainless as Wanted. . *
*P.S.- When Mr. Scott says that all these movies do is state their themes, he is missing the Mr. Ebert's point (at least as I see it): that a movie's theme can be worn on its sleeve, because the important thing is HOW it is presented. Evan Walters's comment sums it up pretty well.
The only thing those reviews are missing is the word "philistine" thrown in a few times per paragraph.
This is not exactly on topic here, but I just have to say this, since the discussion is about blockbusters. I think Dark Knight (and Spiderman II) are not masterful films for their genre. The Dark Knight has lost much, if not all, of the dark, brooding atmosphere that made the Tim Burton film famous. Many of the scenes are shot in daylight, and the city itself looks like any other city--i.e., it does not look like Gotham City. So much attention is being paid to the Joker that many of the features of that world have been lost, including the psychological intricacies of Batman himself (the character). I like the fact that the movie develops the character of the Joker, but not at the expense of the main character, and at the expense of the City itself (which really is a character in its own right).
But there are other problems too. Batman has two chances of taking the Joker out, and does not take them. Why? The Joker is not a mere criminal at this point--when you blow up half the city, you have become an enemy combatant. That's a different category altogether. Also, many of the fight scenes were poorly done--stilted, awkward, making Batman look ridiculous and weak. And how is it his armoured car is taken out like it is? When you make an adventure film, you must still deliver on the adventure (or action if you prefer).
Which brings me to Spiderman II, a grossly overrated film. Yes, it takes great pains to give us substance, drama, and character. Thank you. That's good. But it is still billed as an adventure film, and when I go to an adventure film I want to see adventure. The whole middle part of that film is a fairly anemic love story. As a result, this movie did not leave me breathless and amazed like I was with the first Raiders of the Lost Ark, a movie I will never forget, and still the standard bearer for this genre.
Let me add a note on Hellboy II. Again, very overrated. Yes, it has some wonderfully fantastical moments--angelic creatures with eyes on the wings, old women who are actually witches when looked at more carefully, and babies that are actually tumors (why wasn't that developed?!--what an idea!). But what kills this film, and many others of its kind, is its camp factor. It's too comical, and stupidly so! Why must so many of our adventures be riddled with campy humor? It doesn't work. Maybe that's why movies like The Matrix (the first one, and one of the best in this genre), Batman Begins, and the Dark Knight, none of which have much humor to speak of, do so well, because they are movies that dare to take themselves and their worlds seriously, thus inviting us as well to take them seriously. Ultimately, tragedy is more substantive than comedy, and I think there is something in human nature that makes us hunger for it more.
It sounds like some people want to ban "reviews." What's the point of getting a job at a mainstream publication if you don't want to do reviews for the mainstream? It's unrealistic to expect the general public to have the same level of interest in film criticism as someone who makes films or writes about them for a living.
I like good food and music, but I don't go looking for professional criticism when I buy music or get something to eat. Some of the people I know have tried to get me to read about wines. They pursue that information regularly because they have a passion for it, but after I learned the basics I lost interest, I just want it to taste good.
Siskel and Ebert are still the most well know names in the eyes of the public if you ask about film criticism. I think they reached that level because they talked passionately about film without sounding pretentious and they often disagreed with one another and that gave them the opportunity to discuss the pros and cons of a film in a personal way.
It seems that most people don't want to be told whether they will or won't like a film. They want to know if you liked the film and if you seem like someone that they can relate to they will trust you, if you seem like you're out of touch or a snob they will probably avoid the films you praise while paying to see films that you suggest they avoid, that's if they pay any attention to you to you at all.
Critics can't really change things on their own. Unless you start making your own films you'll just have to be content with writing about the films that get made even if you can't stand it.
To Michael Carper:
Perhaps you should try reading a comic book some time. Particularly if you are going to be ticking off points for "campy humor" that shouldn't exist in the adaptation of said comic into a film...
just wanted to make 2 interesting observations . . .
"The Dark Knight" is an exceptional movie in its own right, but I found some curious parallels/homages within the film.
First of all, director Christopher Nolan acknowledges the influence of HEAT, even casting Willima Fitchner in the opening bank heist sequence. HEAT is a grossly underrated "classic" that defines a cop (Pacino) and a "villain" (De Niro), pits them against one another until their personal cat and mouse game destroys much of a city, and ends with a sad acknowledgment that neither man can exist without the other, and that the difference between "justice" (the cop surviving the final battle) and "injustice" (which takes on a strange context since the only reason DeNiro's character doesn't escape the city is because he seeks out personal retribution against the man who burned his crew) is a split second. Also consider that HEAT was more about the collateral damage of the wives, lovers, and friends of the central characters, much like the central "character" of TDK is really Harvey Dent and Jim Gordon, acting as the living embodiments of Gotham City.
Also consider the "interrogation" scene in TDK, and compare it to a similar scene in "Dirty Harry", where the ideas of torture, justice, violence, and the interconnectedness of the protagonist and antagonist were explored almost 40 years ago.
Same themes, except in TDK men are wearing costumes.
"These movies wear their allegorical hearts on their cartoon sleeves."
I'm beginning to loathe critics like A.O. Scott and Armond White. White especially, with his infuriating overuse of his favorite fall-back word "nihilism" used to summarily dismiss everything.
Tarkovsky's "Stalker" is a pretty good allegory adapted from a novel found in the sci-fi ghetto, which oozes mystical ruminations. Just who does Christopher Nolan think he is then, eh?
Tarkovsky gets a pass. Kubrick gets a pass, well, unless you're Pauline Kael or Jim Hoberman. And how about David Cronenberg, with his "creative cancers", hoodlum scientists and outlaws whose violent natures erupt volcanically? Who routinely gets reviews other filmmakers wish they could snag? Yes, White hates them all (except Kubrick) equally. Scott is a bit more forgiving. But they both seem to loathe costumes. What's up with that?
The thing I really hate about Armand White is that he seems to have no idea about film, why it works, or how he should look at it. Everything is always from some anti-commodity/racial/immorality stance that, while sometimes viable, he uses for movies that, quite frankly, it doesn't make any sense to me to use to review them.
Take, for instance, his review of THE DARK KNIGHT, in which he goes on and on and on about how the movie is "sold" to teenagers wanting to believe it has some deeper purpose, but how Americans are all idiots for wanting to go see it or thinking it's any good. But then, he calls forgettable, stupid tripe that's actually sold to teenagers who are willing to see anything they think might be deep, and proclaims it "the year’s first good-looking and fully enjoyable American movie," as he did in his review of NEVER BACK DOWN, or that something like I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU CHUCK AND LARRY is a "modern classic."
What a giant tool...
I've been wondering: Why is it that some critics and film-lovers seem to think that a movie's themes are somehow less valuable or "mature" if the characters discuss them openly? What indicates "maturity" to me is an appreciation of the complexity of issues, and a desire to deal with them in ways that speak to truth, particularly truths that people often overlook. Certainly, this *can* be done obliquely, and sometimes being indirect, ambiguous, or obscure can make themes more powerful. But other times, there is real value in seeing characters openly discuss their points of view. It can be powerful, memorable, even poetic. Yet it seems that many people seem to think the obfuscation is a prerequisite for srtistry.
I've been wondering: Why is it that some critics and film-lovers seem to think that a movie's themes are somehow less valuable or "mature" if the characters discuss them openly? What indicates "maturity" to me is an appreciation of the complexity of issues, and a desire to deal with them in ways that speak to truth, particularly truths that people often overlook. Certainly, this *can* be done obliquely, and sometimes being indirect, ambiguous, or obscure can make themes more powerful. But other times, there is real value in seeing characters openly discuss their points of view. It can be powerful, memorable, even poetic. Yet it seems that many people seem to think the obfuscation is a prerequisite for artistry.
This to me is film critic racism or rather a new term is necessary, "budgetism" maybe.
As you point out Jim, a film is neither cursed nor cured by its budget or, its subject matter in point of fact.
A film is either good or bad depending on the things that a particular viewer likes or dislikes in his film.
There are delicious hamburgers and crappy souffles.
I don't really understand the point here being made. Is it that critics are being lazy because they are taking seriously films which this critic feels are not serious or is it that the films are dumbing down the criticism.
If the point is the former, than shame on the critic because that is blatant "budgetism". If it is the latter, I would just disagree.
This very column I believe belies that assertion. One need only revisit the volumes written about There Will Be Blood and the cogent debate on one scene, in fact one shot, of No Country.
The Dark Knight was an excellent film in my humble opinion because of its maturity. Fluffy subject, serious film. In contrast, a film like Rendition, with its sanctimony, in my opinion bit it and hard because of its lack of maturity and, well, seriousness. It lacked the courage to look at its subject with anything but self righteousness. Serious subject, fluffy film.
With the backlash (at least among critics) already gaining steam, I suspect some more soul-searching at year's end, when many critics decline to put Dark Knight at the top - or even on - their top 10 list. So hold on to some of your best arguments, folks...you'll need them in December.
"What Mr. Tracy's article suggests is that movies should be made either just for the purpose of "low-brow" entertainment or just for the purpose of illustrating a theme. He is wrong. Roger Ebert would dismiss his article with his famous quote that a movie's greatness lies in HOW it is about something, not WHAT it is about." - Max Matherne.
This is not a fair criticism of Tracy, who couches his entire scorching destruction of Hellyboy II in formal terms. According to him, del Toro is a mediocre storyteller and showman who uses all the standard tricks of the trade yet gets treated if he's a visionary. I haven't seen HB2, but I did see Pan's Labyrinth and while I was woed by the creatures del Toro conceived, the story itself left something to be desired, namely seriousness and resonance. I was excited when I heard a director had chosen the Spanish Civil War as a setting for a mythological tale, but was disappointed to see the facists portrayed as cartoon villains, the style too abrupt and slick (all those wipes reminded me of Lord of the Rings), and hence the "reality" portion of the "reality vs. fantasy" storyline came up short. Yet the film was universally acclaimed as a masterpiece. It seems like critical standards have been declining as of late. Ironically, it is not Tracy, but the reviewers he criticizes who have been confusing WHAT a movie's about (the amazing creatures, the comic book world with philosophical or political issues attached) than HOW it's about it (the use of space, the structure of the plot, the composition, editing, and cinematography).
"I like good food and music, but I don't go looking for professional criticism when I buy music or get something to eat. Some of the people I know have tried to get me to read about wines. They pursue that information regularly because they have a passion for it, but after I learned the basics I lost interest, I just want it to taste good." - Qadree
People who are "serious" about wine, food, books will read and think about and appreciate good criticism. If one is serious about film, one will do the same. It may not enhance your enjoyment, but it will enhance your appreciation. Most people don't care about reviews and only wanted to be entertained (even mildly) for a couple hours
when they go to the theater or rent a DVD. That's fine. I have the same approach when I eat out, or watch a football game, or go to a bar. I'm not keeping my eyes intensely open, noticing every detail, comparing it to other places. But if one is serious about movies, either as a potential filmmaker or critic or just a movie lover, it is imperative that one take critics seriously. Otherwise it's "have your cake and eat it too," and well all know how that turns out.
Jim,
You should consider doing a post on The Dark Knight itself so that people can discuss it directly - the snippets of contradictory analysis that are popping up in people's comments should be enough to show that it's a far more complex and difficult-to-pin-down film than some critics are giving it credit for. I've been struggling with it for days myself, and I'd love to hear if you've seen it and how you approached the material.
I actually agree with Scott's article as far as Iron Man is concerned. I enjoyed the movie a lot, but its attempt to have political and moral heft was flimsy at best (if not contradictory in a way the filmmakers seem oblivious to.) The Dark Knight has something much deeper up its sleeve, and I think Scott missed the boat: as a commenter above pointed out, the supposed climactic showdown, where Scott sees articulated "Righteousness against Evil, Order against Chaos" in the confrontation between Batman and the Joker, is anything but. That's not to say TDK is without its problems, but it seems aware of its contradictions in a way that's supposed to prompt discussion.
I'm going to give the last comment on this blog and say that I get sick and tired of how critics short change popcorn movies and see them as disposable fluff(though giving popcorn movies the name popcorn movies might be dismissive in itself making it sound like the movies are disposable and junky just like popcorn).Sure these movies are of a low culture but that doesn't mean they can't be great.(I have a firm belief that a movie is not What it is but How it is)Now I think that the popcorn movies that are great movies are not going to be in the same breath as something by say Welles,Hitchcock or Bergman but then I think that great movies come in different sizes,shapes,colors and textures.I think that a film can be great for multiple reasons which could be that it profoundly expresses ideas or it gives us an emotional experience or it's fun and entertaining.I think popcorn movies fall under the category of fun and entertaining.I agree that popcorn movies are responsible for turning Hollywood movies into something for profit but does that mean necessarily that they will always be bad movies?.
As much as I enjoy reading and respect A.O. Scott I do think he should be grateful that a great superhero movie is better than no great movies at all.Also,let's be real I don't think anybody goes to a movie like Iron Man or Hellboy II or The Dark Knight for intellectual insight or commentary and parelles to modern society because I go to be entertained.
I think Brad has hit on an important distinction here. Iron Man, when it comes down to it, was an attempt to do an entertaining action movie with some heart to it, not an attempt to tackle heady political issues. I loved Iron Man in the same way I love Raiders of the Lost Ark or Star Wars--they are magnificently entertaining, but light-weight. Painting The Dark Knight with the same brush as Iron Man simply because they're both superhero movies is like attempting to equate Grave of the Fireflies to The Little Mermaid simply because they're both animated.
To me, "Dark Knight" is an adolescent's idea of a "deep" movie. I find nothing more profound about it than Iron Man which I think is the superior super-hero film in every way, shape and form. "Oh, Batman's so dark! Oh, he's so tormented! Oh, there's such a thin line between good and bad!"
However, as dull and portentous as I found "Dark Knight" it's clear that it's still a film worthy of serious discussion. As is Iron Man.
But, back to the basic point of the original posting, I think there clearly are such things as films that are nothing more than product, and applying the same analytical tools to them is simply misguided. It's not a matter of judging high vs. low culture but rather, as Butthead one said: "You need the right tool for the job, Beavis."
Reviewing "Fart Joke 3: Revenge of the Fart" in the same way as one reviews "Dark Knight" or "Colossal Youth" or "My Winnipeg" is just plain silly.
Unless "Fart Joke 3" is directed by Jean-Luc Godard in which case we can't ignore the latest work by a canonized auteur.
I guess I'm going to have to get around to seeing this newfangled "Dark Knight" movie one of these days...
Christopher Long--
Funny, while I loved Dark Knight, what you just wrote perfectly described my opinion of Fight Club, Crash, and American Beauty. I wonder if Dark Knight is going to end up in the same extremely divisive category as those films (or, for that matter, A Clockwork Orange, which I love but many others dismiss.)
I'm not going to use the word "elitist" (lest people think I'm a fan of Fox News), but I do think there's a certain amount of critical hostility towards movies just because they're based on comic books. And to me, that's nothing more than cultural prejudice. I mean, if critics and/or the filmgoing populace are willing to bestow "masterpiece" status on movies based on fairytales and folk stories (Disney's "Snow White" and "Pinnochio", Cocteau's "Beauty and the Beast") or movies based on Christmas Cards ("It's a Wonderful Life"), why not movies based on comic books? Who's to say what's highbrow and what's lowbrow? Is it juvenile or frivolous to engage in intellectual debate over movies like "A History of Violence" (it was based on a graphic novel), or does that get a free pass because it's not a superhero movie??
Personally, I think a movie should stand on its own merits, irrespective of what it's based on (I think "Clue" is one of the funniest comedies ever made, and it's based on a frickin' board game!). Sure, most movies adapted from comic books are of dubious quality, but I'd say the ratio is about the same for any film genre (comic book movies are just more noticable). I think that comic book movies tend to be caught in a Catch-22 situation when it comes to critics - they're deemed brainless popcorn junk, but should they try to transcend the genre and have a bit of depth, they're slapped down for being pretentious or for being guilty of intellectual fraud. And just because most megaplex blockbusters are intellectually lightweight and of disposable quality, it doesn't mean they ALL are. I for one don't judge a movie based on its budget.
As previous posters have mentioned, revered Noir and Western films of the past were dismissed as trash when they were first released. Maybe we should wait a couple of decades and see what posterity does to "The Dark Knight."
D.N.: If you look at the reviews for the first two "Spider-Man" movies, "Iron Man," "Batman Begins" and (especially) "The Dark Knight," I think you'll see that most critics loved them. I confess that my favorite comic-book movie is still the original "Superman" with Christopher Reeve (and Ned Beatty and Gene Hackman and Margot Kidder and Valerie Perrine!) because it was so charming and funny and moving. And gorgeous to look at. As a friend of mine put it, that movie found a way to capture a comic-book sensibility without so literally looking like a comic book. (Plus, I think the quaint but still beautiful visual effects -- using miniatures, matte paintings, optical printing and in-camera effects -- hold up much better than most CGI, which looks dated after a couple years because the technology is changing so rapidly.)
As I read entry after entry of anti-anti-comic book ranting, one question comes to mind: Isn't it just possible that the pro-comic bias is => the anti-comic bias? I will freely admit that there have been a number of very good superhero flicks as there have been many great Westerns. I think I'm open-minded but I confess I don't go in thinking: "Boy do I like guys in tights with superpowers!" Nor do horses and six-guns excite me prima facie. I can be won over but I'm sure it's more difficult to grab me than an avid fanboy (I've seen that word here. Did I use it correctly?) of said comics/oaters. I was a big fan of "A History of Violence"; it doesn't matter to me that it's based on a graphic novel but it does matter that it's about "real" people. I have no hard and fast rule about this but as a matter of taste (not elitism) I'm not that crazy about fantasy worlds that are not my own. I like my sci-fi subjectively "real", as well. I liked "Dark Knight" a whole lot but I bet I also had some problems that wouldn't trouble a comic-conner one iota. For what it's worth, I would give it the Summer Best Picture Oscar if such a category existed. But I anxiously await the final quarter when *my* "real" world finds its way onto the screen again.
Thank goodness someone finally said this! I read A. O. Scott's article with great pleasure, since I for one am also thoroughly fed up with people treating mediocre action films like The Dark Knight as if they were a works of searing genius.
People who consume little but comics tend to over-rate comic-book movies. If your whole life is Batman, then Batman has to become a vehicle for all your artistic aspirations. People like that also tend to be very vocal on the internet. What they tend to fail to recognize is that critics who dislike comic-book movies often don't do it out of some bizarre prejudice or unjustifiable pretension: they do it because these movies are often not very good and the critic rightly and honestly thinks so.
Dane Walker--
Why is "reality" any objectively better than "fantasy"? I could argue the opposite--I think it takes much more skill to create a world of whole cloth, convince people who don't live in it that it is real, and then use the tools provided by that world to comment on our own, than it does to simply observe and reflect life as it is. The latter takes a certain genius, of course--but the former requires much the same genius, combined with a variety of other skills, and the result is more interesting.
Now, of course I'm not going to argue that all superheroes, scifi, fantasy, etc. are inherently superior. Or even that the best films *must* be superhero, scifi, fantasy, etc. But I will argue that the degree of "realness" to a film is not a virtue in of itself, and part of what makes something "art" is the fact that an artist is constructing a scene, world, or story that is *not* real, but is in fact representative of their ideas.
If you want real life, you can take a walk outside. If you want something false but meaningful, you can go to the movies.
ATJ--
If you think even 10% of the people who are calling The Dark Knight brilliant read too many Batman comic books, you're vastly overestimating the number of people who read comics. I doubt there's more than half a million people in the entire country who bought a comic book in the last month, and the number who bought a Batman comic is certainly less than a hundred thousand.
Maybe people who think The Dark Knight was just a mediocre action film are just used to dismissing anything with action in it as mediocre?
Stephen, I appreciate your comments but I expressly used the word "subjective" as well as a bunch of other quotation marks meant to imply that slant on my remarks. I waited a long time to chime in to let those of you who are really into the comic/fantasy thing have your day. Eventually, though, it seemed pretty clear that the people doing all the complaining are getting exactly what they want, right now, while those like me (and A.O. Scott, maybe) are the ones left out at the megaplex. I understand the frustration comic book lovers must have felt in their years in the wasteland. But I think those days are clearly over. Maybe the Oscars haven't quite caught up but have they ever been less than 10 years behind? Comics and graphic novels are now regularly reviewed in the New York Times (just to name one venerable old media outlet) and dominate many channels of television as well as the summer movie season. I refuse to believe they aren't taken seriously by the world, as a whole. There will obviously always be a constituency for reactionary blue-bloods but that's nothing to take seriously at this point.
And as to your point about the skill it takes to create a fantasy world....you may well be right, (although as someone who recently experienced the genius of mundane reality that is "Tokyo Story" I might demur) but if you are I guess I would only say that maybe skill isn't something I value as highly as some in moviemaking. I have similar disagreements with people about so-called technically skilled musicians. If skill gets in the way of heart or complex showiness trumps catchy tunes I often find it to be a negative thing. But that's just me. Taste, like I said, not elitism. And--true confessions here--there are many aspects of "real" life that I definitely prefer to experience anonymously and invisibly. Like in a movie theater. I just take my escapism with less popcorn.
Dane Walker--
Fair enough, you did attempt to state a personal preference, and I interpreted it poorly based on how many people react to these things. My apologies.
Jim, I love the first "Superman" film too, despite its flaws (namely, the broad comedy involving Lex Luthor and his cohorts, which smacked a little too much of the campy "Batman" show of the 60s and, IMO, didn't mesh with the epic grandeur feel the movie had going for about its first half). A great movie anyway. "Superman II" would have been a superior follow-up had Richard Donner been allowed to make it as he originally intended at the time (his recent director's cut comes mighty close though).
The more I revisit the "Superman" movies (1978-1987), the more I realise we maybe took Christopher Reeve for granted. He really nailed the Superman role, maybe more so than almost any other actor playing any other role I can think of. Wrong casting would have sunk the first movie, and I honestly think the franchise would never have made it past the first installment if it wasn’t for Reeve. He managed to play it straight and non-silly and be strong and intimidating, yet at the same time, he had a sweet playfulness too. He was as physically impressive as Superman should be, but he didn’t look like a bulked-up Schwarzenegger type. And his Clark Kent was such a well-realised comedic creation, you really do get the impression that Superman has two distinct personalities.
I guess when I was a kid, Christopher Reeve was just Superman to me, no big deal. It took me a while to fully appreciate what he really brought to the role. Even when the material was lousy (i.e. "Superman III" and "Superman IV"), Reeve wasn’t.
D.N.,
I agree completely. I think Christopher Reeve delivered a wonderful performance as Superman, and is greatly underappreciated for it. Many people think of him fondly, but I don't hear too many people praising his acting chops there. As the tag line said "You'll believe a man can fly." It wasn't just because of the special effects: it was because Reeve grounded the character (both as Superman and Clark Kent) in such solid ground.
I prefer Superman 2 to the first, however, in large part because of Terrence Stamp. I still consider Superman 2 to be the best super-hero movie though Iron Man has now become a close second. And the obscure-but-now-available-on-DVD "Mr. Freedom" now deserves to be (re?)discovered and considered as a corrosively funny take on the super hero genre despite the fact that it was made before there really was much of a super hero movie genre.
I think Reeve was fine in general, though his portrayal of a public Clark Kent was too broad and slapsticky for my taste. If anything, his antics would've drawn more attention to himself, rather than concealing his true identity to the public. As for the films themselves, I watched them again recently, and felt the same as I've always felt.
The first tells the origin story reasonably well, but once it introduces Ned Beatty's painfully dopey villain lackey, begins to slide off the tracks, severely undermining whatever credibility the film had beforehand. The scene where he and Hackman steal the nuclear weapons...absolutely dreadful. And the reversing-time climax is one of the worst deus-ex-machinas in the history of film. Why didn't Supes reverse time back to the 30s and stop the Nazis while he was at it?
Funnily enough, it was originally intended as the ending for the second film, which is about its equal in quality. Some say that Marlon Brando actually gave one of his worst performances in these films (he's in the Donner cut of #2), but I'd rather reserve that spot for Hackman, who irritates to no end with his painfully juvenile, repetitive, desperate-for-attention shtick. And the whole Superman-gives-up-his-powers arc (though better rendered in the Donner cut) is underdeveloped either way, simply a stalling action on the way to the inevitable action climax with Stamp's goofy stiff of a villain (I assume he was aiming for bad laughs here, but who can be sure?), and his two one-dimensional (if that) sidekicks.
Iron Man....enjoyable popcorn fun with a pretty dismal Transformers-like ending, naturally dictated more by some random technological device ("Push the giant button and everything will be resolved, female love interest!") than any genuinely compelling drama. Downey made it more than what it would have been with his ad-libbing prowess, though I doubt he'll be as successful in Round 2.