What Does a Midwest Scotsman Know That Roger Ebert Doesn't?

I have a friend who gives me grief because I read movie reviews. It drives me crazy because otherwise he's a fairly intelligent, aesthetically-enlightened guy. He can read Hebrew, play the bagpipes, and program HTML. What's so difficult about appreciating film criticism?

I have been ill-equipped to reply to his objection that reading reviews keeps me from forming my own opinion about a film, tending to defer to the idea that reading a wide variety of reviews helps me to figure out if a film is generally worth seeing, and, in the end, a frugal investment of my entertainment dollar. That rarely ever satisfied either of us, but I haven't made the time to figure out what else I wanted to say.

Then, this week, I was reading an article about some journalism awards being handed out in LA, and one of them was for LA Times book critic, Tim Rutten, being recognized for his work this past year. A single line from the judges comments jumped out at me and helped me find the words I was missing for my own defense:

"Rutten’s reviews offered style, wit and insights into both substance and form, drawing readers to books they otherwise might not have considered."

Seems pretty innocuous I know, and you would think, with a theater degree from a liberal arts school, that I would have a stronger grasp on the value of literary criticism, but we sometimes lose ourselves a bit don't we?

Some movie reviews are crap. I would say most are crap. Writers trying to show off their brainbanks or verbal dexterity. Editors trying to fill copy. To make things more difficult, most movies are crap, made more for commerce than craft. Not inspirational enough to even inspire text.

But a pairing of a fine film with a thoughtful critic can open up wonderful new worlds. I read reviews for mentions of good performances that might point toward the fierce energy of the human experience. I scour them looking for an invitation to explore new landscapes, perhaps imaginary, although the older I get, the closer to hard clay I find I want to be. I read for the hope of introductions, to new ideas, new images, uncovered histories, undreamed fantasies that I would not likely encounter in my own mundane living. My own eyes can only see so far, my own arms can only grab so much, and my own feet can only carry me so long. Good films expand all those boundaries, and good film reviews have the ability to draw me exploration, or give warning that there's nothing there that hasn't been seen before.

What inspired all of this? The new Disney/Pixar movie Wall-E opened today, and I have rarely seen such universal praise from critics. Moreso, however, is that most of what I read points to the idea that there might be something in this movie that is transcendent, both in terms of the artistry of the filmmaking AND the ideas it explores. How often do we get to experience that? And even if all this critical praise inflates expectations too high, isn't there still even a scrap of comfort in BELIEVING in or HOPING for something beautiful? Wouldn't you rather know and hold on to that, then waste your time on something that offers considerably less?