Review Preview

I'd like to write a review of some sort of Peter Weir's Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World starring Russell Crowe, a film I just watched yesterday. Before I do, though, I'd like to consider for a bit what a review could be, maybe should be, and sometimes actually is.

Offering a review of anything is a deceptively simple activity. It can be as uncomplicated as voicing an opinion, either dully or not, or as complicated as an in depth analysis of an item's place in its appropriate canon. But of what value is an opinion if it is not an informed one? And what makes an informed one?

Any idiot can spew out non-validated opinions all day long (just read this blog) and unlike an article or essay representing facts, a review is ultimately a simple opinion, not subject to any objective scale of accuracy. In other words, it can be of the nature of supercilious crap and get away with it.

I like John Irving's criteria for a book review where essentially he says that prior to writing one, the reviewer should be familiar with all of a writer's previous work so that a context can be identified and the current work better understood. Especially when a prolific author is involved, the sheer amount of preparatory work can greatly reduce the size of the reviewer pool. But what about for a film?

I've read books about screenwriters and screenplays but I've never written one. I've read books by and about directors but I've never made a movie. I was an extra once, in Prince's Purple Rain, and I saw Star Wars ten or so times during its original run. The sense of wonder I drew from Logan's Run kept me hopping on the city bus to the theater every weekend for a month or so of Saturdays and sometimes Sundays. I have not, however, ever seen a Fellini film or anything by Kurosawa other than The Seven Samurai.

Okay, so I'm not Peter Bogdonavich. But I'm not sure he is, either.

No matter the background of the reviewer, what should the actual review itself attempt to accomplish? Clearly to have any weight greater than an empty party balloon it must be written within the boundaries of the reviewers what? Expertise? Background? Credentials?

Within some kind of subjective framework, it should probably try to convey a sense of the film's entertainment value. Warts and flaws aside, was it fun to watch? Did it move you? Were there plot holes too large or too many to ignore? Did you emote with the actors, twitch when they twitched, cry when they cried? Was it corny, original, or incomprehensible?

Then, within some kind of objective point of view, was it a good film? Was it well written, well directed, well acted, well shot? How does the reviewer know? How does the film compare to similar attempts (because not much in Hollywood is original)?

Did the actors do anything new or the director break new ground? And like Irving's book reviews, did the director grow in his efforts on this film, did he take chances, did he reach out? How did he do this?

It's probably impossible for someone not of Hollywood to appreciate the hundreds of agencies at work necessary to the production of a film. If something went wrong in the movie, was it the fault of the script? Or did the director rewrite the key scenes on the fly? Did the studio dictate a certain style or element they felt commercially necessary yet turned out to be artistically detrimental? Was the script rewritten by the director's brother in law or the editing done by the his wife?

Again, impossible for an outsider to know but it begs the question: when a film goes bad, as so many of them do, whyfore did it do so?

In the end, the best judgment is probably always simply whether or not you like the damn thing, reasoning and articulation be damned. I may not know popcorn but I know when something's stuck in my teeth.

Next time I'll write the actual review. I'd like to write a review of some sort of Peter Weir's Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World starring Russell Crowe, a film I just watched yesterday. Before I do, though, I'd like to consider for a bit what a review could be, maybe should be, and sometimes actually is.

Offering a review of anything is a deceptively simple activity. It can be as uncomplicated as voicing an opinion, either dully or not, or as complicated as an in depth analysis of an item's place in its appropriate canon. But of what value is an opinion if it is not an informed one? And what makes an informed one?

Any idiot can spew out unvalidated opinions all day long (just read this blog) and unlike an article or essay representing facts, a review is ultimately a simple opinion, not subject to any objective scale of accuracy. In other words, it can be of the nature of supercilious crap and get away with it.

I like John Irving's criteria for a book review where essentially he says that prior to writing one, the reviewer should be familiar with all of a writer's previous work so that a context can be identified and the current work better understood. Especially when a prolific author is involved, the sheer amount of preparatory work can greatly reduce the size of the reviewer pool. But what about for a film?

I've read books about screenwriters and screenplays but I've never written one. I've read books by and about directors but I've never made a movie. I was an extra once, in Prince's Purple Rain, and I saw Star Wars ten or so times during its original run. The sense of wonder I drew from Logan's Run kept me hopping on the city bus to the theater every weekend for a month or so of Saturdays and sometimes Sundays. I have not, however, ever seen a Fellini film or anything by Kurosawa other than The Seven Samurai.

Okay, so I'm not Peter Bogdonavich. But I'm not sure he is, either.

No matter the background of the reviewer, what should the actual review itself attempt to accomplish? Clearly to have any weight greater than an empty party balloon it must be written within the boundaries of the reviewers what? Expertise? Background? Credentials?

Within some kind of subjective framework, it should probably try to convey a sense of the film's entertainment value. Warts and flaws aside, was it fun to watch? Did it move you? Were there plot holes too large or too many to ignore? Did you emote with the actors, twitch when they twitched, cry when they cried? Was it corny, original, or incomprehensible?

Then, within some kind of objective point of view, was it a good film? Was it well written, well directed, well acted, well shot? How does the reviewer know? How does the film compare to similar attempts (because not much in Hollywood is original)?

Did the actors do anything new or the director break new ground? And like Irving's book reviews, did the director grow in his efforts on this film, did he take chances, did he reach out? How did he do this?

It's probably impossible for someone not of Hollywood to appreciate the hundreds of agencies at work necessary to the production of a film. If something went wrong in the movie, was it the fault of the script? Or did the director rewrite the key scenes on the fly? Did the studio dictate a certain style or element they felt commercially necessary yet turned out to be artistically detrimental? Was the script rewritten by the director's brother in law or the editing done by the his wife?

Again, impossible for an outsider to know but it begs the question: when a film goes bad, as so many of them do, whyfore did it do so?

In the end, the best judgment is probably always simply whether or not you like the damn thing, reasoning and articulation be damned. I may not know popcorn but I know when something's stuck in my teeth.

Next time I'll write the actual review.