In his Gettysburg
address, Lincoln predicted "The world will little note, nor long remember
what we say here…" It's hard to know if he
really believed this, but there's no doubt it applies to critics. Of all the
professions disrupted by the internet, professional art criticism was an early
casualty. With their profit margins under siege, many newspapers and magazines simply
eliminated them. Once, every daily newspaper employed at least one full-time
movie critic from the local community. Now most just print reviews from
syndicated, out-of-town "celebrity" critics—if they print them at
all.
In place of authentic, local voices, most people now get
their impressions of new films from social media, or from sites like Rotten
Tomatoes and Metacritic, which aggregate "yea or nay" verdicts from
users, bloggers, and columnists. The vast majority of movie bloggers proffer
their precious insights for free. Netflix claims to have an algorithm that will
predict whether its customers will like a piece of "content". Such
data-driven approaches have their uses—I've used them myself to scope out which
films might be worth seeing, week to week.
But no algorithm can do actual criticism. None can ferret
out and discuss what might be interesting themes, or read subtext, or place a
film in its particular political, social, or artistic context. None of them
have a sense of history. For those things, we must resort to individual
experts.
Alas, the rise of the internet—of "user-provided
content"—has meant a decline in public regard for experts of any kind. For
many, the act of googling a subject makes anyone qualified to argue with much,
much more informed people who may have devoted their whole lives to studying
something. On the serious side, this has deeply obfuscated public debate on
issues like health care and climate change. On the less serious, it has
rendered art criticism into something like the human tailbone—a vestige of life
in a bygone environment.
All this is reflected in lack of public engagement. When I
was the weekly critic for The Ithaca
Times from 1985-1990, it was common for my editor to receive feedback from
readers, commenting on (more often, disagreeing with) something I wrote. My
files are filled with those old letters, which I cherish regardless of whether
they praised or torched me. By contrast, after 352 columns to date in Tompkins Weekly, almost no one has
written in more than eight years (since October, 2006). The precise
number—exactly one letter—is telling.
It's probably not because the issues have become less
provocative. More likely, it's because, in lives of unrelenting activity, with stagnant
wages and social media and DVRs and Tinder and YouTube, people simply have no
energy to think very deeply about anything they read—much less summon the
effort to put together a coherent response to it. In a time when "clicks"
count more than the most crafted arguments, why bother?
All of which occurs in the context to the ongoing juvenilization
of movies in general. The Bible enjoins us to put aside childish things, but
never Hollywood. None of that is new, but it is fortunately still possible to
find challenging fare. This column has tried to highlight some of it, including
the superb programming at Cornell Cinema and Cinemapolis. Trouble is, while you
can lead people to better stuff, you can't necessarily make them care.
According to Indiewire, the total US box office for foreign language films has
plummeted 61% in the last six years. Despite promises of a brave new world of
wide-open access to anything, the advent of video-on-demand has not reversed this
trend. Instead, in practice, it has merely reinforced the domination of the same
old thing.
This will be my last regular posting for VIZ-arts. This is
partly because I will be pursuing other opportunities as a novelist. Despite
the fact that this column has been largely a one-way conversation, publisher
Jim Graney and editor Jay Wrolstad have been consistently supportive of it—for
which I am eternally grateful. I'm also fortunate to have had the opportunity
to address the Ithaca community, which is (and I hope will continue to be) one of
the most film-friendly in the nation.
When I ended my column at the Times, I wrote "If any of you have felt a connection to the
soul behind the words, I've been talking to you." I can think of no better
way to end this one too.
©
2015 Nicholas Nicastro
I will certainly miss the sense of history and artistic content "Soul Behind The Words" you posted on VIZ-arts. Your talent, gift for words, as a writer, a novelist is very special.
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