Tag Archives: richard corliss

Get Moving

Strictly speaking, there’s nothing really wrong with Fast Five. It’s dumb as dirt, sure, and it embraces all the hoariest action movie clichés. It makes Rio de Janeiro out to be a hillside aggregation of crime-ridden slums, and it treats women as interchangeable T&A, the fleshy equivalents of fast cars. Still, it’s trashy fun that delivers on its promise of gunfire and Vin Diesel in tight shirts. The characters share a rough-and-tumble camaraderie as they plot their $100 million heist, exchanging Predator-style hand clasps and basking in Diesel’s goofy grins. Affable and generic for the most part, Fast Five peaks with its climactic set-piece—a high-speed chase that harks back to Buster Keaton.

So I have nothing against Fast Five, but I still flinched when Time film critic Richard Corliss listed it as #10 in his “Top 10 Best Movies of 2011.” Which I assume was his point. The rest of his list—The Tree of Life, Hugo, The Artist, etc.—comprises a pretty standard, amiable summation of The Year in Film. Fast Five is his bold, counterintuitive choice: an olive branch to blockbuster-loving readers, maybe, or a gesture of mild defiance to the critical establishment. In your face, “sensitive indie dramas!” Fast Five has more “craft and cojones” than you ever will, you effete piles of mush.

And, you know, that’s cool. It’s Corliss’s prerogative. It’s his list. I think it’s stupid to refer to such a melodramatic, cookie-cutter action movie as the “first great film of the post-human era,” but whatever. Maybe he really, truly loves Fast Five. No, my real grievance lies with The Guardian, which asked (in response to Corliss’s list), “Would Fast Five make your top 10 films of 2011?” Let’s make no bones about it: this is a really shitty article. You have been warned. And now I’m going to do perform some close reading:

  • It starts out bemoaning the sameness of year-end lists. That’s a totally legitimate complaint to make, except 1) author Stuart Heritage uses the phrase “dutifully chronicling,” assuming a total lack of passion in everyone’s top 10 lists and 2) he draws a dichotomy between “prestigious middlebrow Oscar-bait” (i.e, boring) and “big summer marquee blockbusters” (not-boring). So yeah, he’s lumping every low-budget or non-franchise movie together under the heading “Oscar bait.”
  • The next two paragraphs are brimming with mock surprise at Corliss’s audacity. They say that he “remembered films that people actually went to see”—because, of course, critics or cinephiles who go to see artsy movies don’t count as people.
  • Heritage asserts that Fast Five is “undeniably fun,” then derides Drive as basically Fast Five rendered boring through artsy pretensions. He also employs those essential weasel words “There is an argument, perhaps…” (Own up to your worthless claims, man!)
  • The next paragraph is a classic: it alludes to “films that have been written and produced specifically to win awards,” then cites The Skin I Live In, Margaret, and We Need to Talk About Kevin. By “win awards” does he mean “take artistic risks and thereby earn critical accolades”? Does he know anything about those specific movies or about awards season? “It almost seems like a validation of brainless popcorn flicks,” he says of Corliss’s list. Almost seems. Two words that tell us nothing.
  • This disingenuous, faux-rebellious article ends by declaring “amnesty.” That’s right: people are allowed to express fondness for popular, profitable movies again! Fie on you, critics, for making us ashamed to love Thor. Never again!

Before I rant on, I should add that if this were posted on some random asshole’s blog, I wouldn’t blink. But this was posted by the fucking Guardian. 44,000 people saw it linked to on Twitter. This piece received 52 comments. And it’s meant to pass as professional film journalism. That’s just bullshit. I’m all for genuine populism, for recognizing genius in lowbrow movies. (Hell, I’m second to no one in my love for Chopping Mall.) But that Guardian piece’s unspoken thesis is that we should collectively disregard any movie with a modicum of artistic ambition. Fast Five is good enough, and “good enough” is the new “great.”

You know why people “actually went to see” Fast Five and Transformers 3 and The Smurfs? Saturation marketing. Because they were advertised ad nauseum, and then opened in multiplexes nationwide. Margaret, meanwhile, was dumped into 14 theaters by Fox Searchlight. Notorious piece of Oscar bait, that. These simple circumstances give the lie to Heritage’s whole pseudo-populist agenda. He’s set up a false hegemony—i.e., “Critical groupthink only supports boring, artsy movies!”—when in reality, this is about publicity and access. It’s about real, active critics vs. the stultifying power of ad dollars.

When critics endorse mediocrities because they’re “good enough” (or from fear of looking elitist), they’re no longer critics. They’re just adjuncts to studio publicity. Criticism is about drawing attention to great cinema even though most such movies are, yes, artsy and in limited release. If you can’t countenance praise for movies that nobody “actually went to see,” then I’m really sorry, but you have nothing meaningful to say about movies.

Incidentally, Corliss later released some “Filthy Secrets” about his list-making process. He explains that “indie or foreign art-house films… with important exceptions, are going through a static or mopey phase,” gets in a dig at A Separation, then clarifies that Fast Five “did what movies should do: move.” Movies are supposed to move. Maybe all those mopey art films will keep that in mind next time, and splurge on some car chases. Thanks for the advice, Richard Corliss.


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