Top Box Office Movies - Wishful Thinking: The Cravings of a Disillusioned Film Critic

Wishful Thinking:
The Cravings of a Disillusioned Film Critic

The movie season of 2002 has finally departed after making its cinematic mark. Some would consider this a blessing in disguise. Be that as it may, the cinematic experiences of the past year don’t necessarily distinguish itself from other lackluster movie-going ventures from yesteryear. As expected, the movie madness of 2002 were true to form in its predictability—there was celluloid fair that was quite impressive if not memorable; other instances deemed it a stale state of affairs. Hey, there’s no real shame in the film industry breaking even in its attempts at donning a creative mindset. As the old saying goes: you hit a few, you miss a few. But this begs the question: is Hollywood allowed or entitled to be indifferent or lax about its entertainment value at the expense of devoted, enthusiastic film fans? Or better yet, is it the responsibility of giddy filmgoers to be more demanding and discriminating when it comes to their hard earned box office dollars being wasted on a less-than-stellar entertaining product?

Look, an argument can be made for what tastes—likes or dislikes—that moviegoers consider their brand of choice. And that’s fine if one wants to settle for more or inexplicably… for less. But whereas casual film fans have the power of being finicky in whatever they decide to ultimately view, the creature known affectionately as the #@$#%&^! film critic doesn’t have the comfort zone to be so particular. Hence, as a professional movie-attending foot soldier, the resilient reviewer has to endure whatever theatrical shrapnel is thrown their way. Believe me, for every assignment that’s unquestionably rewarding (take your pick of any Academy-Award winning gem or critically-acclaimed narrative) there’s the disparaging duds that are routinely on the horizon.

Sure, the public becomes peeved at the poor critic trying to ply his/her trade for candidly giving their assessment. Yet the scrutiny persists that the movie scriber is the pathetic soul that fails to see the clear picture. Well that’s the point—we saw the “clear picture” and in many cases are not impressed. Who can explain the everlasting conflict behind a filmmaker’s vision and their critical detractors or the film critic’s assessment and their scorned observers? One can only reduce this whole scenario to the concept of blaming the messenger as opposed to the occasional misguided message.

Anyone who has reviewed a film consistently over a lengthy period of time could share the maddening anxiety and welcomed merriment of such an endeavor. In fact, you gain an appreciation for developing a thick skin for working the trenches in the hazards of braving the darkly-lit aisles as you settle into your seat and let the images on screen capture or corrupt your imagination. True, film critiquing is not complicated brain surgery. But it is a certain kind of delicate operation where if something goes wrong with the procedure (pitiful performances, lousy direction, spotty transparent script, technical snafus, exhaustive formula, etc.) then it’s up to the opinionated surgeon to apply his dose of “feel-good” medicine where its needed accordingly.

Maybe there is an opportunity to share some keen thoughts of wishful thinking on how a disillusioned critic (not to mention the weary responsible movie viewer) can make the most out of their exposure to suspect cinema. Should we become more flexible or easily accept the less engaging stimuli that systematically romances our cynical eye? Should we succumb to the big screen madness that regularly persists? How about the mediocrity that hangs around like a nagging houseguest that knocks on your door at midnight? Personally, I have a craving for what should be envisioned as the ultimate adventure in moviemaking. Call me unrealistic but I think I have the solution as an enlightened movie reviewer that might be able to curve some negative tension every time he viciously puts a potential poison pen to paper. So here’s the deal in my brief and formidable way I’d tackle my lingering disillusionment with horrendously tepid American filmmaking. The following are not subject to negotiation or compromise so please take the mentioned below under advisement. Let’s look at my three samples, shall we?

Sequelitis: This is a tricky area in the world of the moviemaking mantra because creating sequels to some of your favorite original hits (or not so favorite hits) is almost as instinctual as breathing through your mouth because your nose is blocked up. For every desired follow-up to classic fare such as The Godfather, Star Wars, or The Lord of the Rings trilogies, there’s the risk of nauseous and nonsensical continuations such as Rocky XVI (okay, it’s an exaggeration but you get the point). Or how about the meaningless slasher ditties such as the worn out Friday the 13 film series? (see Jason X to confirm my view). Let’s face facts, sequels are a methodical way of life in Tinseltown because it’s an opportunity to milk the staying power of a confirmed hit for profitable and on-going gain. Filmmakers should reasonably milk their original creative brainstorm, not kill the cow in the process!

Originality... A Lost Art?: Hmmm, this very well could relate to the aforementioned topic of the Sequelitis syndrome. After all, sequels are not just for opportunistic movie studios to drain the blood out of the corpse of their previous sure-fire hits. Sometimes, it’s the tragic realization that maybe all the creative juices have been tapped into therefore causing the stagnation in any original forethought. Personally, this is a major cop out. Out of all the things in the world that Hollywood could conjure up to produce and make interesting, you mean to tell me that babyboomer filmmakers are only resilient enough to lazily serve up material that once was fodder for television sensibilities? Gee, we certainly needed that critical dose of I Spy or Scooby Doo, huh?

The Bigger, The Better: Ah, that age-old adage about mainstream films versus the independent movement. Since when did the bigger and flashier movies become the instant preference in the eyes of savvy film enthusiasts? And why do independent films still assume the role of ugly stepchild in the minds of skeptical audiences? I’m sure folks have their feelings and opinions about such matters. Still, bigger films don’t necessarily amount to greatness just because they have an A-list director and a privileged multi-million dollar cast on board. And yes, there’s NOTHING wrong with embracing big-budgeted movies--there’s no sin in that school of thought at all. Plus, being a mainstream production with impressive backing doesn't automatically constitute the project as vapid, vain or venomous. And we also shouldn’t give the sympathetic edge to independent filmmakers by bestowing the “quality” and “bravery” badge on these films just because they are intimately subtle and lack the resources as compared to their more advantageous mainstream counterparts. Let’s overcome this preoccupation with the pettiness. Whether big or small, contemporary or classic, domestic or foreign, movies should be wholly appreciated for what they are within the context of their art form.

Anyhow, I can go on and on about my cravings and/or misgivings about what drives me batty as a film critic in terms of requesting simple satisfaction whenever I get into my critiquing mode. True, nobody or nothing is perfect in this world. But what’s wrong with exploring one’s inner potential when parlaying raw ideas and insights into halfway decent cinema? Nothing, of course! If you want to cater to the crass and crappy convictions of an arbitrary sexual teen romp, then at least have the decency to conjure up the best run-of-the-mill brainless sexual teen romp that you can put it into fruition.

Granted, you certainly weren’t spared the ramblings of this particular disillusioned film critic. So go ahead…it’s your turn to spout off about your role as a disillusioned moviegoer! Believe me, you are entitled to do so…you’ve earned the right!

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Frank Ochieng
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