Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of virtual hand-wringing about how, particularly on the internet, writing about movies has devolved into writing about writing about movies. I am not unsympathetic to plaints of this sort, and have been trying (really!) to cut down on such stuff on this here blog/website/whatever it is. Hence, my not weighing in on that Entertainment Weekly “best living directors” list, and such. However. This afternoon, as I pored over what some might consider a volume of ancient lore, I happened upon a passage that, as they say, struck home w/r/t this topic.
[Bosley Crowther] is not alone in panning A Countess From Hong Kong. To my knowledge, only William Wolf of Cue has rallied to Chaplin’s defense. Happily, Falstaff [yclept Chimes at Midnight-Ed.] has found powerful defender in Joseph Morgenstern of Newsweek, Judith Crist of the World-Journal Tribune, and Archer Winsten of the Post. Even so, Mr. Crowther is entitled to his opinion, and he is scarcely the least enlightened of American film critics. Henry Hart of Films In Review has earned that dubious distinction with ease. The problem with Crowther is power. Not only can he still make or break “art” films in New York; he can dictate to distributors what films they may or may not import. Lately he has been credited even with what may or may not be produced. In a letter to the Times a producer of Dutchman whined that Crowther had seemed to encourage the project at a preproduction dinner. The person in question is not the first person in the industry to learn that Crowther cannot be had for a free meal. I’ll say that much for Bos. He is not corruptible in the vulgar way most of his detractors suspect. He is affable, urbane, polite, genial, and easy to misunderstand in personal relationships. The industry is full of glad-handers and promoters who claim to have Crowther’s ear but who only get the back of his hand when the early editions of The Times hit the stands. This kind of unpredictability is all to Crowther’s credit. United Artists planned a Bond-like promotion of Sergio Leone’s A Fistful of Dollars and the sequels because Crowther seemed to have been impressed by the Italian western cycle on his European jaunt for The Times last year. When it turned out there was too much pasta in them thar oats, Crowther backtracked and UA had to dump the project.
The writer is Andrew Sarris, in the March 30, 1967 issue of The Village Voice; the piece is reprinted in the indispensable tome Confessions Of A Cultist. I don’t think I need to point out the varied correspondences one can find here to contemporary discourse, except to say that, as far as one of the most obvious of them is concerned, Goldstein versus Dargis represents a false analog to Sarris versus Crowther, because Sarris was right, and Goldstein is wrong…and an idiot. The rest of the dots will be more fun for those who give a damn to connect on their own. I’ll add that we all ought to feel vindicated at which side history has ended up on w/r/t the Leone films.
I’ll further add that what’s different today is that Sarris was communicating from a pond. The internet has made that pond into an ocean, with a commensurate increase in species and such. Don’t hate the players…or is it do hate the players? …or?…well, there’s no easy adage for it, is there?
Except maybe this: Just deal.
Ha, “Joseph” Morgenstern, that old dog. How long’s he been around? And uh, how much longer must he stick around?
Oh, and this sentence… “Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of virtual hand-wringing about how, particularly on the internet, writing about movies has devolved into writing about writing about movies.”
That sentence would be, by my calculation: writing about writing about writing about writing about movies. Did I miss one? Oh, and THIS sentence would be–oh, you get the point. Did I just blow your mind?…You’re welcome.
Dude. Whoa.
I have been critical of critics (particularly in the last couple of years) although I don’t write about film. Admittedly, I am getting sick of film critics reviewing one another, often at the expense of actually talking about films.
That said, Glenn, I haven’t actually minded that much when you did it, as you don’t often dwell on it and you are primarily using this blog to talk about films, half of them I probably haven’t seen yet but will do so because you wrote about them. With that balance, I don’t mind. And your own writing on film backs up your statements.
However, I do feel the more common situation is that most critics who write about other critics are simply not very good and are possibly deflecting the attention from their own poor writing by trying to cut down someone else. The likes of Armond White (here we go again!), N.P. Thompson and many who dwell in the internet ocean can rail against the critical majority all they want, but they’re still bad writers with little insight into films at the end of the day.
And, no, not because I don’t agree with them. They just suck at what they do and are usually the types to think they don’t need to improve. Which is often the telltale sign of an amateur: They don’t think they have anything left to learn about what they write. They lack a certain level of curiosity, but never lack a sense of competition.
Unfortunately, we live in a culture where people often employ bluster with a heaping of arrogance to make declarations as opposed to arguments. And the internet provides countless people like this with an outlet. It’s up to each person’s judgment who they take seriously enough to listen to. Personally, I have very discriminating tastes as to whose writing on film is worth reading, as well as who’s writing about writing about film.
Glenn, why is Goldstein v. Dargis rearing its ugly head again. This has been going on since December!?
Call it an oldie but goodie.
If your point is that the paragraph of Sarris’s that you quote is every bit as trivial and clubby as much of the junk in the blogosphere, I certainly can’t disagree. (Sarris, to put it bluntly and no doubt controversially, is not one of the great minds.) But if you mean to excuse current triviality by reference to prior triviality, count me out.
No knock at your own criticism intended – I like your blog quite a bit.
@topbroker: Thanks for the kind words.
You probably won’t be surprised to learn that I hold Sarris in substantially higher esteem than you do. That said, my citation was meant more in the “t’was ever thus” spirit than in the interests of making such excuses as you propose.
And that said, what you call “clubby” could conceivably be more charitably termed as “factional.” There’s a long history of such agitations in arts criticism—names that come off the top of my head (after a long day and a, let’s say, Petronius-worthy dinner, mind you) include Baudelaire and Clement Greenberg. Which, I hasten to add, is not to claim that a Baudelaire or Greenberg walks among us. Just trying to track a certain tendency, is all. For now. I’m certainly not going to make it the subject of this blog!
You know, speaking of writing about writing about movies, Jeffrey Wells’ obsessive stalking of anyone who says a nice thing about Watchmen is getting really weird.
How do you define “writing about writing about movies”? Because I think the ability to respond quickly to another critic in a film-specific way is one of the wonders of the Internet. Crabby little sideswipes are a different matter, of course. But sometimes critics need to be written about. I wish than in his heyday, more people had published the fact that Crowther was a dreadful critic. Every time I encounter one of his reviews in researching a post, I cringe. Even when he liked something it was for all the wrong reasons. He had zero sense of the visual. No wonder people grabbed at Cahiers like a canteen in the desert.
Rather than add to the hall of mirrors discussion re: critics on critics (worst porno series ever) can I just say Sarris finding anything to praise and defend in the likes of A Countess From Hong Kong is the sort of act that makes me want to hop in a DeLorean and nuke auteurism. I watched it recently, and beyond the indestructible charms of Sophia Loren, it’s abysmal.
Adam: “critics on critics (worst porno series ever)”
***dies***
@Campaspe
Clearly you haven’t seen the Dorothy Parker/Vincent Canby blue loop.