On Criticism...

What is the purpose of a professional critic? No, really, what do these people do all day? This question is a little harder than it seems it should be. We've all read and seen professionally produced criticism, most commonly of movies, but also of literature, music, television, opera, dance, restaurants, and about a hundred other things. Some critics, the late Roger Ebert most notably, have risen out of the fairly insular world they inhabit, and reached the level of beloved cultural institutions. This is, possibly, because we are a society that greatly values experts and the opinions of experts. We like being told things by people who know what they're talking about, or are at least skilled in pretending that they do. We are also a nation with unlimited access to entertainment and media in many forms. Time being limited, we seek the blessing of experts before comitting that most valuable of resources to the consumption of something that, by its definition, is supposed to be free from the pressures of making wise and informed choices (whole 'nother rant right there).

The critic, therefore, is an arbiter and shaper of popular taste. He is widely recognized as being well-informed in his chosen field, and as such is able to pass judgement on whether a piece of art is worthy of the public's time.

Now, let's talk about Armond White. If you don't know the name, I congratulate you. My chief hesitation in writing this piece revolved around my distaste for giving Mr. White additional publicity. True, this is somewhat mitigated by the fact that nobody reads this blog anyway, but the principle remains. This case is sufficiently fascinating, though, that the discussion is worth having, even if its with myself and a bunch of empty pixels. So….

Armond White is a film critic. He is intelligent, educated, and writes about cinema with nuance and considerable insight. He is also boorish, contrarian, and dismissive of most artists. At a recent dinner for the New York Film Critics Association, of which he is a prominent member and former president, White heckled the director Steve McQueen by shouting a number of drunken insults. Again, this is in the middle of a formal dinner meant to celebrate the year in film. I think we can agree that Armond White, for all his skill as a writer, is perhaps not the nicest of people. If that were the extent of it, I wouldn't be writing this. He's a jackass with a soapbox, so what? Well, back to that definition of a critic…

The thing I've always been confused about, when it comes to critics, is whether they have a responsibility to celebrate and/or champion the artform to which they're dedicated. I don't mean this on a case-by-case basis; Certainly, each review needs to contain fair consideration of the piece being discussed, in both its positive and negative qualities. But doesn't a critic need, at the core, to be a fan of what they're devoted to pontificating about? I only ask this because, after reading quite a bit of his work, I'm not certain if Armond White even likes movies.

Look, I really, really don't care about Armond White. He's a jackass with a soapbox. But he's a symptom. To repeat, this man became president of the fucking critics association in New York City. Twice! And he hates most of the movies he reviews. Why do we listen to this guy? Well, part of it is our sick fascination with negativity in all its forms. Part is that we like being told that wealthy celebrities really suck at all the things that've made their money. And part of it is the usual can't-look-away-from-carcrash aspect of it all. Which is pretty messed up, if you think about it.

Critics don't exist without having things to criticize. Their existence, as a societal subset, is created and necessitated by the existence of art. We consume art because it brings us joy and intellectual growth, hopefully in that order. Now, there are many terrible movies released in any given year (Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, anyone?). These can certainly be castigated for our amusement, and there's nothing wrong with reading a scathing review and chuckling to oneself. Ebert, as great a movie-lover as has ever lived, was famous for fricasseeing willfully stupid films. But, and here's the key difference, he did so from a place of love for the form. Ebert trashed movies because they wasted time, money, and talent, becuase he saw in them too much squandered potential. Armond White trashes movies just to, as the Joker puts it "watch the world burn."

I have no answers here, mostly because I'm not even certain I've asked a question. The conclusion, though, is this; Critcs are a product of their environment, and something in our environment is creating a need for someone like the sleazeball Armond White. Perhaps we should work to focus on the greatness our artists can create, and weep when they fail, instead of simply waiting to laugh when they trip over their own ambition.