Last week when I posted my musings on critical responsibility, I got into a discussion about it with a few other friends who are aspiring writers. The question we discussed was, If you’re a creative person hoping to publish or promote your own work, should you be reviewing other people’s content publicly, especially is your opinion is negative?
Before the Internet, this doesn’t seem to have been quite as important. Some of our finest authors were also well-respected critics. There were feuds and they were entertaining and the feuds likely helped sell books and put their authors in the spotlight. Nowadays the virtual world in which we place our words has shrunk, and navigating the divide between critic and creative can be tricky. What had sparked our discussion initially was that I’d reviewed a film that I didn’t love but also didn’t hate. I saw a few good things in it, but it didn’t work for me overall. Then when I wrote about it, I leaned a little more heavily into the negative aspects than I felt I should. As I noted, it wasn’t a matter that knowing the review found its way back to the director, I backed off and changed my opinion but rather, I had let myself get carried away and adopted a much harsher tone than I’d intended.
The question that sparked the discussion is a good one for anyone who hasn’t yet achieved success in the publishing world. My friend asked:
Do you ever wonder if, in reviewing something badly, you might offend someone who would have influence to make our brake you in the publishing world somewhere down the line?
And the response I gave is “no.” I’m not sure there’s anyone with enough power in any given industry to make or break anyone anymore. Yet, you can certainly make enemies. I’m well aware of that. So that leads me to ask, Do I just leave the reviews up to professional critics? If I disagree should I just be silent?
The reason I started writing film reviews here is two-fold.
First off, I should explain that I’m not expecting to set the world alight with my opinions or insights, but I do feel that when I task myself with writing critically about something I’ve watched, it enriches the experience of watching for me. Rather than sit passively and let the images roll by, checking my email every fifteen minutes, I’m forcing myself to actively engage with the art before me. I’m taking notes. I’m looking for connections between the shots, thinking about theme, engaging more fully with what the artist wants to say in a way I really haven’t since graduating from college. (Also, taking notes on a movie helps me stay awake, which can be a problem even with great films if I pop in a disc after working my nine to five and taking care of my kids all day).
The other reason I’m reviewing film is that I’m not an aspiring filmmaker, so I get to avoid any anxieties my friend’s question raises. I mentioned in a previous post that I used to review literary journals on this page but I stopped. While I like that sites like Newpages and The Review Review exist and I visit them and read the reviews they post, I can’t help but feel there’s a decided conflict of interest in having aspiring writers review other aspiring writers in magazines that the reviewers are more likely than not submitting to. How can you be honest? If the idea that you could be blacklisted and forever rejected from a journal if you don’t endorse a particular issue, you’re not going to say publicly, “I really admire XXXX and they have an esteemed history, but they really swung and missed with the winter issue. I give it two stars,” even if your chances of publishing in XXXX from a slush pile submission are equal to your chance of getting struck by lighting while sitting on your porch on a sunny day. By avoiding reviewing books or literary journals I avoid this conflict. Yet, I’ll also admit that I’m conflicted about avoiding this conflict because I’d like to write about the books I read.
One of my friends also said, “I’ve decided that I don’t need to write reviews about things I don’t like. If you’re a professional reviewer or aspire to be, that would be different. But I’m not and I don’t. So my goal is to dislike quietly and to love loudly.” And this is an entirely valid stance. After all, what’s the point of risking repercussions by stating your opinion on a blog like this? My grandmother used to live her life along the lines of the old adage, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” and I think this is a noble stance in interpersonal relationships. But I’n not certain it’s necessary to apply it in the arts. I can’t help but feel that dissenting voices need to be heard.
The Internet serves as a great big hype machine. At the end of the year there are lists of Top 10, 20, or 50 books of that year you have to read. Top 50 films. I’m not going to lie: I like reading these lists, but I feel too often that once the critical consensus decides something is good, everybody within that industry falls in line and agrees it’s good and promotes it as good, and there are few willing to come and out and say, “Hey wait a minute. I’m not going to argue that it’s bad, but I’d like to provide an alternate assessment, and it’s not all that great either.” And the people who do this need to be more competent at arguing points, using the text or film itself, than your typical Amazon one-star reviewer. If you’re using a star system at all (I don’t particularly like star systems because it allows people to glance at the “grade” rather than engage with the complexity of opinion), I’ve found in my experience that very few works deserve one-star and very few deserve five-stars. In fact, how can you give something that just came out five-stars if five-stars means flawless masterpiece? That kind of assessment takes time. You have to see how a work weathers the years.
I’ve deviated from my point slightly here, but while I see my friend’s stance of disliking quietly and loving loudly valid, it also feels like self-imposed censorship. Yes, I know your counterargument goes, you can have free speech but it doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for saying what you think. To which I’d respond, what should those consequences be? If I take your work, which you put out into the world for people to engage and think about and react to, and I react to it, not in the one-star “THIS STINKS!!!!” fashion, but with consideration and forethought, and my opinion is a negative one, does this then give you the right to try to block publication of my work? Should you consider it open season to go after my writing and tear it apart without giving it the same consideration I gave yours because I hurt your feelings? (Not to mention larger questions of this kind beyond writing such as, “Should it be legal to fire or not hire someone based on an opinion expressed on a personal non-company-related Twitter or Facebook account? Have we become our own thought police? If you have something to say, do you have to say it in public? What’s your responsibility then?)
Naturally, if I manage to publish my novel, I can’t be sure how I’ll respond to someone reacting to my work negatively. At the same, I think this is one of the advantages you get in coming up publishing in small-press literary journals. My work has been rejected. It’s been rejected heavily. I’ve gotten some mean ones over the years too, and they’ve always hurt. But the end result is either: 1. I recognize the person rejecting me has a point and strive to rewrite the work or make the next one better; or 2. I see the person’s opinion as akin to an Amazon one-star reviewer, realize there are plenty of people who will engage your work out there who don’t have the faculties to engage what you’re doing, and keep doing what I do. But I know that not everyone is going to like everything I do. If I’m going to keep writing fiction, I have to accept that, find a way to process, and move on. In the meantime, I don’t really see any reason to stop reviewing movies. I might even add books soon enough. Though I’m not yet sure what I’ll do with the ones I don’t like. Maybe I’ll opt to go my friends’ route and dislike quietly. After all, I don’t want to risk the off-chance someone’s going to William Randolph Hearst me (in case you missed it, that’s a picture of him above). And it will likely be more enjoyable from a craft standpoint to dissect writing that works, writing that I admire.
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