Movie Critics Are Irrelevant

But are video game critics any better?

In case you didn’t hear, the seminal movie review program “At the Movies” was canceled last Wednesday, marking an end to nearly 25 years of two pretentious, middle-aged white guys arguing over subjective matters of taste.  Good riddance.

Now, before you go on reading this article, I highly suggest that you read Ebert’s latest blog post, in which he discusses the cancellation of his landmark TV series and its implications on the film and film criticism communities.  I have no intention of demeaning Roger Ebert as a man, nor do i have any intention of offending any readers for the sake of shock value.  I wish for nothing but the best for Roger Ebert as he fights an indefatiguable foe.  I do, however, have every intention of tearing apart the out-dated and absolutely pompous viewpoints he shares with readers of his blog.  I intend to scrutinize his thoughts on criticism and his narrow and offensive opinions of what it means to be a “real movie lover” the same way he has scrutinized the creative efforts of thousands of writers, directors and actors.  And if you haven’t read his blog post, well…you might be likely to misconstrue some of my statements.

Ever the optimist, Ebert openly discusses his belief that “a market still exists for a weekly show where a couple of critics review new movies.”  Ebert goes on to describe his plans for a new series, a series which sounds identical to his canceled series except for the fact that Ebert will now “go full-tilt New Media: Television, net streaming, cell phone apps, Facebook, Twitter, iPad, the whole enchilada.”

Apparently, some MBA asshole in Biz Dev at one of the cable networks convinced Roger Ebert that regurgitating technology buzz-words is the same as having a cross-platform integrated marketing strategy.  He convinced  Roger Ebert that if the public can now watch an elitist gasbag vent about his personal fancies for 22 minutes ON AN iPAD, Ebert’s new program might actually gain relevance for a few weeks.  ‘Cause, you know…now it’s on an iPad.

Well, that MBA asshole in Biz Dev at one of the cable networks was wrong.  The reality of the situation is that the paradigm has changed, and professional movie critics have been made irrelevant.  Simply put, what Roger Ebert has to offer in the way of criticism no longer adds much value to moviegoers.

The Golden Age of Film Criticism

The 1970′s marked the dawn of “The New Hollywood” as the flailing studios gave complete creative license to a generation of directors with auteur mentalities.  Films like A Clockwork Orange, The Wild Bunch, The Godfather, Taxi Driver and Dirty Harry were more graphic and more offensive than anything previously put on film.  Yet these films were also intelligently and artistically crafted.  They represented a revolution not only in terms of what types of content were acceptable in entertainment and art, but a revolution in thought and the power of popular culture.  Professional criticism was a necessary beast during this decade, helping guide an ignorant public through an intellectually challenging library of work.

In the 1980′s, cinema became more populist and the film industry expanded rapidly behind blockbuster film franchises like Indiana Jones, Ghostbusters, Star Wars and Back to the Future.  The advent of the affordable home video market — thanks to the VCR — overwhelmed consumers with choice.  Faced with questions like, “Should I rent Chariots of Fire or E.T.?” consumers turned to film critics.  The local paper might feature a positive review from a well-known syndicated reviewer.  A blurb from a well-known syndicated reviewer might even appear on the box of the video cassette.  Consumers looked to these well-informed reviewers for insights, and two thumbs up from Siskel and Ebert played an integral part in many consumers’ decision-making processes.

The 1990′s saw the rise of independent film, a new wave of new wave auteurs like Steven Soderberg, Wes Anderson, Kevin Smith, Quentin Tarantino and Larry Clark who pushed crass, violent and self-aware subculture to the forefront of pop culture.  Critics helped bring these directors to the attention of the public at large.  But something else also happened in the 1990′s: Michael Bay.  Movies like Bay’s Bad Boys and Armageddon were critically panned, but proved to be huge box-office blockbusters…to say nothing of the huge amounts of money they earned from TV licensing, VHS and DVD sales.  Joel Schumacher’s Batman Forever and Batman & Robin were two more movies that earned hundred-million dollar profits in theaters despite horrible critical reception.  And do I even have to mention Jar Jar Binks?

Sure, film had long provided populist entertainment at the expense of intellectual culture.  Hell, the proliferation of nickelodeons and film in theaters during the early 20th century is due in large part to film’s ability to cater to the lowest common denominator of American society.  But the auteurs of the 1970′s had raised film above entertainment status and elevated film’s status as true art, worthy of intellectual discourse and study, worthy of celebration and preservation in museum halls.  Even a popcorn blockbuster like Jaws was well-received by critics for its character development, rich subtext and filmmaking savvy.  And the god-awful Batman movie released in 1989 (I dare you to go back and watch Jack Nicholson wearing pancake make-up and dancing around to Prince and tell me it is a good film) was praised for its film-noir flourishes and dark pageantry.  In the 1990′s, though, film critics were relegated to the role of overly intellectual outsider, more or less removed from the decision-making process.

The Business Model Is Dead!  Long Live The Business Model!

By the turn of the century, movie studios had developed a distribution system that maximized a film’s monetization at every stage of the distribution.  From beach towels and Happy Meal toys to DVD sales and foreign release windowing, films were no longer art; they were simply an IP that moved branded consumer packaged goods.  Demand could be forecast and films would be green-lit based off of expected sell-through of each phase of the distribution process.  Simply determine a weekend release against light competition, add the expected value of Tom Cruise’s name and face on the movie poster with the expected turnout of Tom Cruise fans in the relevant population segments, subtract marketing costs and production costs and you’ll know whether the movie will achieve the financial benchmarks necessary to support its production.  Who cares if critics think Days of Thunder is little more than a star vehicle derivative of Cruise’s earlier films with no interesting insight into the human condition?  We’ve got the NASCAR demographic and a tie-in with Hardee’s and Mello-Yello!!!

Now, because a movie’s success or failure no longer hinged on positive or negative reviews, film critics were forced to kiss ass to stars at well-rehearsed press junkets in a stupid and ultimately doomed attempt to remain relevant.  Intelligent and informed critique on acting styles, directorial influences and artistic statements through criticism gave way to teeth-bleached numbskulls asking, “What was your favorite thing about working with your co-star?” on shows like Access Hollywood and Entertainment Tonight.

The internet, of course, gave a voice to all those critics — both professional and amateur — who would champion pillars of artistic expression such as Y Tu Mama Tambien over triflings such as National Treasure.  Of course, this only further served to de-value the role of the critic.  Any asshole with a modem could publish his or her thoughts on any movie.  Any asshole with a modem could rank Godfather or Daddy Day Care or Funny Face on IMDB.  And you know what?  Consumers found the general public’s aggregate opinion far more useful — as opposed to some “expert” opinion — in their respective decision-making processes.  Moreover, the internet allowed individual consumers to cull the data to find sources that are relevant to them.

Sure, maybe Roger Ebert gave Chloe three and a half stars.  So what?  The NYT reviewer trashed the movie.  IMDB users give it a 7.2 out of 10.  And Rotten Tomatoes gives it an aggregate score of 51% fresh.  Which one of these sources do I trust?  All of them?  None of them?  The answer changes depending on who you ask.

Netflix

And then along came Netflix and rendered movie criticism absolutely, irrevocably irrelevant.  Those awesome computer engineers at Netflix created an algorithm that tracks consumers’ viewing patterns and recommends movies tailored to the individual consumers’ preferences.  And what’s Roger Ebert’s take-away from this amazing new piece of technology that allows millions of movie-lovers to enjoy movies more than they ever did before?

When the New York Times put an interactive Netflix map online, allowing me to search by zip code and see what my neighbors were renting, the top title was “Milk,” followed by such [sic] as the “The Wrester,” [sic] “Slumdog Millionaire,” “Doubt” and “Rachel Getting Married.”  Think about that.  Good movies.  “Transformers 2″ was nowhere to be seen.  (“Milk,” in case you’re wondering, was first or second in most Chicago zip codes, not just mine.)

Those are the kind of people who might want to watch a movie review program.  Our show will try to reach people who think before they watch a movie, and value their time, and their minds.  Does that sound like a pitch?  Probably.  I think it’s also a business plan.

Roger Ebert still doesn’t get it.  On the one hand, he sees technology as a way of perpetuating his elitist perspective on films.  He sees technology as a way of reaching snobs — via their iPads and Twitter accounts, no less — interested only in what he deems to be “good” movies.  On the other hand, Ebert blames technology for having ” fragmented the audience so much that [TV] stations are losing market share no matter what they do.”

Roger Ebert is right about one thing; technology has played a very significant part in making his elitist perspective on films a relic of a time long past.  Technology has opened up the general public to a wealth of films once only available to the art-house film aristocracy.  Technology has given a voice to people who want to argue that Milk was a shallow, manipulative, historically inaccurate and reality-defying awards-pandering piece of garbage and that Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen was an escapist delight, devoid of pretentiousness and enjoyable because of the spectacle it put on display.  Technology has led to a democratization of opinion, wherein everyone’s opinions have the potential to carry equal weight, where a film critic’s opinion is the same as a film student’s opinion is the same as a gas station attendant’s opinion is the same as a 13 year-old’s opinion is the same as a retired schoolteacher’s opinion.

In his heyday, Roger Ebert gave criticism that not only helped consumers decide what movie they should see, but actually helped consumers understand the maturing language of film, its historical context and its social impact.  He was the first film critic to receive a Pulitzer prize, and it was much deserved.  Roger Ebert is a cultural landmark, and will forever be associated with the elevation of film’s place in the Western popular consciousness.

But the old paradigm is no longer useful.  Film buffs are far more likely to trust an algorithm that evaluates their own personal tastes than they are to listen to some film school grad’s top picks of the week.  Casual moviegoers are far more likely to check out IMDB’s review scores than they are to wait for the Saturday afternoon movie review show.  What’s more, all cinemagoers are perfectly capable of arguing with their friends over whether Sandra Bullock’s acting in The Blind Spot was avoid-at-all-costs sentimental schlock or a must-see performance.  Ebert and the reviewers of his era taught the American public how to think critically about the different aspects of film, how to discuss our opinions intelligently and passionately.  And now…well, now Roger Ebert’s voice is just another voice in the crowd.  Perhaps more informed than many, but not any more prominent than anyone else’s.

And the truly sad thing is that where once Roger Ebert’s love of film led others to discover new films, this same love of film has led him to believe that he is more qualified than anyone else to render righteous judgment over what a “good” movie is.  Roger Ebert’s love of film has made him more than comfortable lambasting anyone interested in any new iteration of the Transformers franchise to be an idiot who values neither his time nor his mind.  And all of his complaining that “everything seems to be going to hell in a hand basket” makes Roger Ebert seem like a once-proud courtier desperately striking out to rally his fellow blue-bloods in some hope that the old emperor can be restored.  Sorry to break it to you, Roger, but Napoleon’s on Elba and he ain’t coming back.

So, uh…what does this have to do with video games?

What do Sword & Poker for the iPhone, WarioWare D.I.Y. for the DS, Perfect Dark for the 360 and Castlevania X: Rondo of Blood for the Wii virtual console have in common?  Apparently, the answer is not ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING.  All of these games scored a 9.0 on IGN’s review scale…that’s what they have in common.  Is WarioWare D.I.Y. as good as Perfect Dark?  Is Sword & Poker as deserving of a high mark as Castlevania?  These are stupid questions.  Each of these games offers a completely different gameplay experience.  Each of these games appeals to a different type of gamer.  And yet, they are all graded on the same, absolutely arbitrary and meaningless scale.

To IGN’s credit, their scores are theoretically aggregates of numerous reviewers’ scores.  A quick look, however, shows that Castlevania and Sword & Poker both have only one press review, compared to three reviews for WarioWare and 18 for Perfect Dark.  Awesome.  The most-visited video game review site on the internet uses an arbitrary and meaningless 100 point scale (masquerading as a 10 point scale), and aggregates an arbitrary amount of “professional” reviews to create its final review scores.  Really?

Admittedly, IGN also gives the games’ user rankings, which allows interested consumers to see that other consumers rank Sword & Poker considerably lower than Perfect Dark.  But it still does little to distract from the fact that these review scores add absolutely no value to the consumer whatsoever.  A video game consumer is not going to buy Zack & Wiki no matter how well-reviewed it is.  A video game consumer is not going to buy Grand Theft Auto: Chinatown Wars despite critics gushing over it.  Bitch all you want about how crappy Sonic Unleashed was (IGN gave it a 4.5), it still moved more than 3 million copies (and IGN’s users gave it an average 8.0 ranking).

This is not to say that video game reviews can’t be a factor in a consumers’ decision-making process.  Reviews still play an important part in bringing independent games to light.  I never would have heard of ‘Splosion Man, flower or Braid if it hadn’t been for the legion of reviewers who championed these games.  Reviewers added value to the consumers’ decision-making process not by randomly assigning numbers to these marvelous, innovative games, but simply by being more informed about the games than the consumer could be.  The reviewers acted like a personal shopper, culling through the thousands of indie games begging for attention and telling the consumer, “These games are worth your time.”

The Future for Video Game Reviews

Video game reviews in the late 2000′s and early 2010 share a great deal of similarities with movie reviews during the 1990′s.  Just think about it.  No-nonsense businessmen have taken an entertainment-focused arts industry from enthusiasts’ living rooms and turned it into a massively popular, bottom-line-driven CPG business.  Mainstream review sites pander to big-name publishers, exchanging “10/10″ box art blurbs in for exclusive sneak-peaks at content while a small but flourishing indie scene relies on the grace of the indie-minded reviewer for a chance at being lifted out of obscurity.

Thankfully, there does appear to be a major difference between movie reviews of the 1990′s and current video game reviews.  Some of the best and most popular video game review sites prominently buck the rankings trend.  Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw is famous for his animated reviews which completely trash nearly every game released.  Unlike the elitist Ebert, however, Croshaw doesn’t believe his informed opinion and haughty attitude make his voice any more important than anyone else’s voice, as evidenced by the fact that he is constantly mocking his own bad attitude, sexual incompetency and general lack of friends.  More importantly, Croshaw adds value to consumers not simply by virtue of having an informed opinion, but because the way he expresses his informed opinion is unique, funny and entertaining.

Kotaku is another great example of pioneering alternative reviews, employing a number of different techniques to review games.  Kotaku’s basic review consists of listing “What We Liked” against “What We Didn’t Like” and allowing the reader to make a judgement on how worthy the game may or may not be.  But Kotaku also creates Frankenreviews, pasting together text from different review sites in order to create one coherent review from numerous sources and perspectives.  And then there’s Tim Rogers, who essentially wrote a novella on his personal insecurities with women and failures in office life as an exploration and review of music games from Dance Dance Revolution to Brutal Legend to Guitar Hero.

For video game reviews to have a meaningful impact on consumers in the coming decade, they will need to embrace a new paradigm.  No longer will a simple rundown of the game’s gameplay and design with a numerical ranking serve as a meaningful — or even adequate — review.  Reviews will need to either reflect the voice of the consumer or provide value through entertainment and/or unique insights.  Otherwise, it won’t be long before we’ll be reading Adam Sessler’s blog lamenting the decline of the video game review and wistfully thinking about those days on X-Play set with Morgan Webb, back when people still played “good” video games.