First, put videos of yourself on YouTube talking about movies. Make sure your beige walls and unframed anime posters/drywall stains/”man cave” signs are in the shot at all times. If your webcam is facing your bed, go ahead and leave the sheets crumpled up behind you. If you’re blogging, make sure you’re on Tumblr and only misspell things when you want to be taken srsly.
Have a really cool name. Most successful film reviewers have names that either sound like 1950s welterweight boxing champions (Rex Reed, Gene Siskel), or the boring B-list alter-egos of DC Universe superheroes (Leonard Maltin, Pauline Kael). If your real actual name sounds like either of those, you’re one step closer to industry respect. If not, just call yourself Fabio Sexmane or Claudia Soliloquy for a while. See how that treats you.
Remember: Meta is betta. Drop knowledge about this whenever you can. For example, while having dinner with other film critics, casually mention that, in your opinion, Craig, the master puppeteer in Being John Malkovich, thrived so fantastically as Malkovich’s manipulator because he was, himself, a puppet, an existentially fragile man dependent on living a vicarious life through the pleasures and whims of someone more famous, more respected, more privileged. It’s also worth mentioning the film is loosely based on Emily Dickinson’s life.
Love what everyone else hates. As a film critic, it’s important that you love a really shitty movie and defend it at any opportunity that presents itself, at all costs. Swear up and down that, say, Anaconda was a misunderstood classic. Remember, liking things that most people hate makes you look smarter and more perceptive than them. And be aggressive about it. Hit ‘em if you have to.
Go into every movie with a bad attitude. Watch it first as a piece of visual art, then as a piece of aural art, and lastly, as a narrative drama. Overproduction is a far more serious crime than terrible production value. Refuse to accept clichés unless they are being used as clever satire, such as in The Passion of the Christ; if they are not being utilized. Go into every movie with a bad attitude. Watch it first as a piece of visual art, then as a piece of aural art, and lastly, as a narrative drama. Overproduction is a far more serious crime than terrible production value. Refuse to accept clichés unless they are being used as clever satire, such as in The Passion of the Christ; if they are not being utilized inventively, tear the film apart. Crucify it.
If a director or crew member uses ingenuity to overcome other flaws in the film, praise her endlessly, saying her name at least three times (but no more than six, or you might as well be Paula Poundstone telling mom jokes). Do the same if an actor/actress manages to rise above crapulence/restrictions with a great performance. If someone screws up his job so badly that it pisses you off – especially the director – call for his permanent removal from Hollywood. If I were Rob Reiner, I’d have changed both my locks and my looks after what Ebert said about North.
Always wear a sports jacket, preferably over a snazzy t-shirt. Look I don’t make the rules; this is just stuff you have to do.
Recognize life’s ultimate futility.
Take bribes from studios. It’s dirty, yes, but keep in mind that while writers and storytellers will always exist, industries that allow them to earn a living wage are dying like Cross River gorillas. Get that sweet cash money power and tell people Dumb And Dumber To is worth seeing, because really, who gives a shit. We’ll all be dead in 100 years.
