PROBLEM 0013: Critics Live Your Life So You Don't Have To

In which the author considers the true nature of The Critic. In which he tries to do so without being too offensive, because he like critics, honest he does. And in which a realistic attitude results in this becoming about Life. Also, the author wonders why everything he writes about ends up going this way.

THE CRITIC’S JOB

Critics have one job: to criticize. Out loud. It’s not too hard to define the job qualifications, either: they apply their discernment in basic prose so that we don’t have to. And they do it well. I respect that. Think of them like explorers. They explore foreign lands of varying “quality” so that we can be tourists in only the best, most select spots. They survey the land, observe the customs and mores of its inhabitants, the liveliness of its indigenous flora and fauna, compare it to more familiar places, and paint word-pictures of the many (or few) vistas it offers. They write postcards telling you how it was, wishing you were here or warning you to stay away. They spend money on local wares and describe the tchotchkes and knick-knacks with flair, occasionally mentioning the exchange rate and the taxes and the person who sold it to them, as if that matters. 

The critic travels endlessly so that we can travel judiciously, according to how closely our particular tastes match up to their reports. They hone their sensibilities to appeal to the broadest range of human beings possible, and for the most part they succeed. 

They get hired if their standards are our standards. They get fired if nobody agrees with them.

In doing all of this, they accomplish several additional things. They sway perceptions (I hated Fellini’s Amarcord until I read some reviews about it—yes, I’m weak like that). They alter your future (I did not watch Fellini’s Casanova because of them—I’m weak like that, too—then, now, on a Google search for damning reviews, I found none against Casanova—how much do I imagine in my day-to-day life that is utter fantasy?—why did I think there were bad reviews at all?—was there one I found in a book, a brief reference to late-Fellini that condemned his old age as full of unwatchable movies?—I don’t know). They rewrite the past (suddenly Fellini’s Casanova is on a list of the 1,000 greatest films of all time—but “suddenly”, apparently, only for me). 

They do all this with cultural artifacts so that your life is spent consuming only the highest quality experiences. They want to warn you of weak plots, false advertising, unfair claims, and deep regret. They want to make sure that when you die you can thank them for keeping you from wasting more time than necessary. The critic is more valuable than a friend. A friend will waste your time. The critic will warn you.

CRITICS AND LIFE AND WHAT TO DO

I respect critics the same way I respect politicians. From a distance. [Important Side Note: I love Roger Ebert not only because of his criticism, but because of his genuine humanity when extolling or condemning a film]. I have my favorite critics, I read them, but I worry about the effect they have on me.

Is our time so valuable that we need a critic to guide us? Probably. With millions of movies, tv shows, books, poems, short stories, and artworks vying for our attention, it’s only natural that we should look to critics for guidance.

But is there another way? Why would we even want another way?

Is it possible to do the work of the critic for ourselves? To simply go out and discover and hone our tastes? 

They say taste cannot be taught. Well, people acquire taste somehow and it isn’t by reading critics. It’s by reading, watching, looking, listening, and then doing it all over again. 

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