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This morning, my colleague, Neil Miller of Film School Rejects, dubbed it “the Cold War of film journalism.” It’s a war that we film critics have been quietly fighting for years. But, over the weekend, in my city’s local paper, that war appears to have been officially declared.
On Sunday, in an article entitled “Why Do We Need Critics?” The Columbus Dispatch staff film critic, Frank Gabrenya, commented on a recent New York Times article that discussed the gradual extinction of the print film critic. The article made the rounds with the local press a couple of weeks ago (I commented on it here at the time). Unfortunately, though, it didn’t really tell us anything new. We all knew it was happening. We’ve seen it coming for years. For those of us who began writing when we were kids, it’s a sad thing. Many of us have, at one time or another, dreamed of a job at the local paper (for me, the dream looked a lot like something out of a Superman movie). Most of us have tried to get one of those jobs (or, in some cases, several) at one point or another. But those of us who have tried have heard the same thing: “Sorry—we just don’t have the budget anymore.” We were born a couple of decades too late. So many of us have turned to the Internet for our outlet. We’ve found our readers—and our voice—online.
In a way, we’re both a part of the problem and the solution, all wrapped up in one. On one hand, it was Internet Mavericks like us who chipped away at the newspaper dream. On the other hand, we Internet Mavericks have found another way to reach readers, to have our voices heard. And, at the same time, we’ve managed to do it in a way that makes our voices so much louder—to be heard all the way around the world. We’ve done it so that one writer in Columbus, Ohio, can be heard by millions of people, at any time, in any place. In his article, however, Mr. Gabrenya likens my kind to “any prolific species of rodent.” He seems to lump us all into one big generalization: bloggers. None of us, it seems—not even those who work for established and recognized online publications—are any different from those high school fanboys who post their poorly-spelled rants online after coming home from the theater on Friday night. And we, it seems, are the vermin that are feeding on the movie industry’s trash. In the process, we’re bringing the industry down. We are, it seems, little more than tools that the studios use for free fanboy hype, in return for some free movie passes. It is the serious [print] film critic, he asserts, who keeps the film industry from turning into a bunch of brainless schlock. It’s the [print] film critic who stands up for the little guy—those worthwhile indie films that, without [print] film critics, would waste away in oblivion. “Those small films…” he says, “have little chance of attracting the attention they deserve without positive local reviews.”Really? Because those small films screen for all critics—not just the local print critics. And, for the most part, the Internet critics are there, in the theater, seated just a couple of rows behind Mr. Gabrenya. We cover the same small films—often promoting the worthy ones with even more fervor than the local paper, which might just give them a small mention somewhere on page three. And you can feel free to check my personal track record on that—because all of my reviews are archived.
In response to Mr. Gabrenya’s assertions and accusations, I could resort to tantrums and childish name-calling. But I’ll refrain from doing so—as I have in the past—because, as it turns out, my kind aren’t as unprofessional as some may claim. I will, however, state that I have seen plenty of evidence contrary to Mr. Gabrenya’s accusations. I’ve seen the lengths to which some studios will go for a splashy front-page feature in the local paper’s entertainment section. And I can’t help but wonder why. Do they really think that the key audience for a new summer blockbuster is going to rush to the newsstand to pick up a copy of the local paper to see what they had to say about it? I haven’t researched the numbers, but I can say that I know of just one person of my generation who subscribes to the local paper. Just one. And I’ve talked to many others who have admitted that they wouldn’t even think to check the paper for movie reviews; they just check online. And why not? Because the local paper prints reviews of this week’s new movies in one paper on one day. The next day—and the next week—those reviews are lining birdcages. On the other hand, online reviews are always there. The review of Smart People that I published last weekend will still be there next weekend. If the movie didn’t open in your neighborhood this weekend, it’ll still be there, waiting for you, when it makes its way to your local theater. When the movie comes out on DVD, my review will still be there. And if, down the road, I make a reference to it in another review, you can just click on a link and read what I had to say about it. It’s all there—24 hours a day, 7 days a week, no matter where in the world you happen to be. Neat, huh? I kinda think so.
Now, I will admit that there are an awful lot of voices out there—and some of them have more of worth to say than others. Since becoming a part of the local press a couple of years ago, however, I have had the honor of working with some very talented Internet critics—people who aren’t just out there regurgitating whatever the studios want them to say. I work with intelligent and articulate people who actually pay attention to what they’re seeing. People who truly love a good movie—and who want to share that love with their readers. And it doesn’t matter if those movies are big blockbusters or tiny indies. These are people who try to promote the movies that deserve the hype—instead of just those that can afford it. They’re people who (like me) flock to the indies and travel to film festivals to find hidden gems. In short, we write about movies because we love movies—not because we just want free passes to see the new Indiana Jones movie before the rest of you.
And, Mr. Gabrenya, you’d be wise to join us online. Because here, with the rest of the Mavericks, your voice will carry. And your words will live on long after your paper is nothing but a mound at the local recycle center. Don’t sit in your office, declaring war on us—because it’s a war that you’re not prepared to fight. And, unfortunately, it’s one whose outcome is inevitable.
We rodents aren’t going anywhere.
Sniff… Tear…
Well said. Bravo!
Wisely written, smartly articulated. Words do count and sensitive people will always be needed to seek out the equally sensitive works of other poets, filmmakers and film critics. That is the audacious meaning of the wordsmith’s hope. Kudos, Kristin.
What a foolish man too scared to get with the times.. I can’t see the internet going anywhere anytime soon.. yeah it makes things a little trickier with getting a decent income but having your work available all around the world is pretty amazing.
You can either complain about it or adapt.
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