A Pitfall of Film Criticism

I’ve written the following comment in response to Jonathan Rosenbaum’s piece on No Country for Old Men (Chicago Reader):

This review was listed on Rotttentomatoes as 30%. While Mr. Rosenbaum seems to be astounded with the amount of praise the film got, the actual review seems more positive than the rating would suggest. (e.g. “They show off their narrative expertise by converting some of the sheriff’s plaintive monologues into terse dialogue and even more in the way they juxtapose the separate movements of Moss and Chigurh, sketching out a suspenseful cat-and-mouse game with some of the primal impact of silent pictures.”)

Furthermore, while Mr. Rosenbaum acknowledges that the film is more than just about a remorseless killer, he spends little time in delving into what the film is really about. This reads like a reactionary piece to other critics than to the actual film. “Remorseless murder isn’t all there is to No Country for Old Men, but it’s all anyone seems to care about,” he writes. I’m afraid that seems to be all he cares about too. I really think Mr. Rosenbaum has missed the boat on this one.

[...]

I wish Mr. Rosenbaum had delved into the film more and commented on the reaction less. The latter should not have been a basis for a film’s evaluation. It probably would’ve been a more interesting review.

A while ago, I wrote a defense of Ingmar Bergman, who was being torn to pieces just after his death by Jonathan Rosenbaum. He seemed to mostly revolt against the heaps of praises thrown on Bergman’s grave by his fellow critics, and more than once made condescending comments regarding the Bergman audience. While it is important to note the audience as well as the critics’ reaction to a piece of work, there is a fine line between what is useful observation and what is bitter reactionary stance that has less to do with the actual work than others’ opinion of such work. He is not alone in this respect: numerous critics (paid and amateur alike) try to rise above the rest by simply ripping on others’ perceived lemming-like opinion.

What it amounts to is no more than a wordy hissy fit of an egoist who feels the need to smash others’ idols whose altar s/he does not worship at. Mr. Rosenbaum admits in his review of No Country for Old Men that he’s “sometimes curious about why people return to certain pleasures, especially when [he doesn't] share their taste.” That’s not film criticism – it’s a self-appointed shepherd’s attempt at herding the perceived flock of sheep.

While I admire the ability to ‘read’ films that Mr. Rosenbaum frequently exhibits, he really goes too far sometimes with his reactionary response to what he perceives to be an unjustified idol worshiping that he seems to temporarily forget what his job entails: providing his take on the work in question. To borrow (and butcher) a well-known phrase: the film is the thing, dear Critic. Quit judging the game by its cheerleaders.