Chapter 1: Passion
Why be a film critic?
How will you prove Roosevelt wrong?
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
- Theodore Roosevelt, Paris, 23 April 1910
This famous quote is beloved by everyone from Nelson Mandela (who recited it to Francois Pienaar before the sporting triumph portrayed in Invictus) to Liam Hemsworth (who has a piece of it tattooed on his arm). If you just skimmed it, go back and read what it says.
“Critic.” It just sounds bad. Nobody likes people who criticise all the time. From All About Eve to Ratatouille, the critic is never the good guy. They risk very little and seem to thrive on negativity towards those who do.
“But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.” - Anton Ego, food critic
After all, what’s the point of a film critic? The films you love, I may not love. And that’s okay. Art is subjective. If I have a (subjectively) good time watching an (objectively) bad film, is it a bad film or a good film? Do I need someone to tell me what I will or should like? Can anyone tell me what I will or should like?
So how will you prove Roosevelt wrong? If you really intend to write good film reviews, you must find an answer — your answer — to a big question: Why do you want to write about film?
Money?
No. It’s important to understand that you are unlikely to make any proper money writing about films. There will always be more critics than paying publications. And ever more so in a digital age of free content and open platforms, those publications that do pay for film reviews do not pay well.
As a career choice, this makes little financial sense. Many film writers of all abilities end up leaving to pursue better pay, hours, stability or all three.
As a freelance film critic, finding steady work is tough. You can also expect companies and editors to exploit your desire to write about film by offering you ‘work’ but no fee.
Somewhere along the line — around the time that the internet enabled anyone to be a published writer — the idea took hold that writing isn’t really work and that it could go unpaid.
So if money is your motivator in any major way, at some point, however much or little success you have, you are likely to become disillusioned.
Fame?
Okay. As a film journalist, you will meet actors and filmmakers who are famous, who are fascinating, who you respect and, sometimes, who are all of those things at once.
This will be exciting. But it won’t sustain you forever. In fact, after some years of this, you may very well find it hollow and unfulfilling.
You may eventually come to realise you’re someone who hasn’t done anything, except appear in awkward selfies with people who actually have done things.
You won’t really have any stories about you. Just stories about meeting famous people. Most of your stories will rely entirely on the listener being impressed that you met a famous person, rather than actually being good stories.
“We got on really well,” you’ll say, hinting that on a different day, you guys might have ended up as buddies. You didn’t and you won’t. You were just one of thousands of journalists they were contractually obliged to be interviewed by during another soul-sucking press campaign.
Susan Sarandon once quipped at a junket that A-list actors aren’t paid millions to make the movies, they’re paid millions to talk to the press.
Passion?
Here we are. No other reason will support you and sustain you. Nothing else will make you write great film reviews. Your passion will carry you further than anyone who does this for money or celebrity.
Yes, you love films. But the defining question here is: what drives your passion to write about them? What are you really here to do?
- Do you write to try to better understand your own thoughts and feelings about movies?
- Are you helping people choose which films they should spend their time and money on?
- Do you want to help deepen people’s love and understanding of cinema?
- Are you wanting to add to the critical discussion that seeks to interpret films?
- Do you specifically want to champion unsung or underloved films?
Passion is purpose. You need a mission, a clear reason why you write about films.
Why does this matter so much? Because passion and purpose will carry you through writer’s block, bad films, not enough work, too much work, personal traumas, professional exploitation, confidence blips and anything else that hits you.
When you do start going to film screenings, you’ll meet a lot of dishevelled folk who don’t look like they’re living their best lives. When you sense yourself rolling down the road to becoming one of them, get off the bus. Do it and love it or don’t do it. You’re taking up valuable room. Film criticism doesn’t need you if you don’t have passion and purpose.
As a film critic, you can inspire other people’s passion for cinema and enlighten them to things they haven’t seen or thought. Does that sound like your reason? Have a think and own it.
Since we’re here, I’ll give you my reason.
I remember the first time I watched Blade Runner and Blue Velvet. But that wasn’t when it happened. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I began to understand Blade Runner and Blue Velvet. It was like someone had pulled the shutters back. There were universes in these films, right in front of my eyes, that I just hadn’t seen before. I didn’t know films could do that. I was amazed.
In fact, it transformed my life. I knew, right then, that film was the world’s greatest artform. The magical synthesis of all other arts that had come before it. And I wanted other people to feel that way too.
So my job was to help people better understand films. My mission was to help people love film more. Whenever I wrote a film review — whether it was of a crappy rom-com or a deified meisterwerk — this was what I was really doing.
I’m going to venture to say that whatever your mission is — and it must truly come from within you — that helping people to love film more is also your job if you’re going to write about film.
One more thing about passion.
Writing is hard. It’s so hard! It’s hard for everyone, including the film critics you think find it effortless. You will meet very few people who have a special gift for writing. And trust me, even they find it tough. (This is such an important point, I will keep repeating it.)
The only gift you need is a passion for writing about film. If you have this, regardless of your current ability level, you will just keep learning about film and writing about film. And if you continue, you will continue improving. Your writing will get better and better with every sentence.
—
