Rambling About content

Introduction

I told myself the other day, “you gotta do another review, you’ve only done one, you got time, go go go, do another one” the usual rigmarole of trying to get myself to not be a lazy piece of shit who accomplishes nothing.

The thought then popped into my head (as negative thoughts have a way of doing so much more effectively than anything else) asking, “Why the hell am I doing this? No one likes a critic!” Now — to my credit — I quickly shot down the second part with a quick, “No one likes me anyways! Take that!” and then a, “I’m not doing this to be liked, I’m doing this because…”

And I stopped. Huh. Why this? Why critique? Why should anyone listen to me? So I decided that that is what I need to write about. I believe I had some of the answers or at least enough pieces to create something resembling a complete picture — but surely just sitting and hashing it out with my keyboard would help. Then I don’t have to think about it anymore.

I won’t lie, I revised and cleaned up a good amount of this (to make it readable, plus I can’t spell to save my life), but this is as close to true stream-of-consciousness that I could do at the time, hope you can decipher my ramblings.

Part I

When you watch a movie or a TV show and they show someone who is some form of “art critic”, they usually want to give the impression that this person is pretentious, a snob, generally unlikable, etc. etc. This, in it of itself, doesn’t bother me because the idea of making a living by shitting on people making art is, at minimum, gross… right? What’s the point of an art critic besides being a snooty asshole? (I don’t want to be a snooty asshole…)

When a critic praises a movie, the production company pulls a snippet of their article and slaps it on the poster — “A must see!”, “Devastating and brilliant!”, “My Wife divorced me and somehow got legally married to this movie!” — some dumb shit, I don’t know, bear with me.

When a critic shits on a movie, it’s an attack on low hanging fruit; no one expected that movie to ACTUALLY be good! It’s a kid-friendly-family-fun-general-audience-cash-grab-with-Dwayne-the-Rock-Johnson, I hope that critic feels good writing down what everyone already knew from the moment they saw the trailer!

Do critics change art? I’m not even trying to ask if they change it for the better; I want to know why we even bother writing about, ""Dwayne the Rock Johnson 7: Now with Jack Black or Kevin Hart, it’s a tossup! Volume: 1, Part 3!” directed by Nepotism Jim Jr.” if all we do is shit on it, it makes a billion dollars, and Hollywood pumps out a sequel. Whole lotta good that article did, right?

The movie clearly isn’t “for art” in any stretch of the imagination — but we critique it as if it is? Perhaps they’re just trying to match a quota and their boss’ boss knows it’ll get clicks — that’s probably the most likely answer. BUT DO WE CHANGE ANYTHING? They love us, they hate us, they portray us as pretentious snobs, and Hollywood ignores us as they pump out more cash-grab trash… what’s the point? What are we actually trying to do here?

Here’s the dictionary definition of a “critic” because you knew it was coming at some point: “A person who judges the merits of literary, artistic, or musical works, especially one who does so professionally” — and “merits” was underlined so let’s go look at that as well; “The quality of being particularly good or worthy, especially so as to deserve praise or reward”.

“Good or worthy” is interesting, but we all know why: whose definition of good or worthy? Who decides this? Is there a standard we all follow? Is it intrinsic, is it measurable, is it itself a good or worthy way to judge on whether something is or isn’t good or worthy?

Thanks, I hate it.

Part II

I sat down one day and thought, “Gee whiz, I sure do love judging stuff based on its merit! In fact, I do it so often, I should start sharing those judgements with the world!” and so I started this WordPress and here we fucking are.

It’s not so much that I actually enjoy “judging” stuff — I love thinking critically about art. I enjoy picking something apart with one hand while the other is holding it VERY far away from myself, allowing me to take in the BIG picture. Cross-referencing the two viewpoints simultaneously gives me a personal understanding of how I feel about the piece of art; sharing this understanding with other people makes me feel… connected?

Connected to the art piece, connected to the person who also took in the art, connected to the specific genre of that piece of art as a whole — I feel like I am GIVING merit to the art by talking about it, dissecting it, praising it, judging it, sharing my viewpoint, etc. etc. etc.

There’s a hitch, a catch — not a “problem” per se, because it’s never been a true “road block” for me…but it’s always been there nonetheless:

People don’t tend to see or feel the way about art that I do.

“Oh, he’s so different, not like the other boys!” I know, I know, I’ll take my favorite toaster for a bath after I’m done here.

I have yet to find someone who agrees with me on just about anything even 5% of the time. No, I am not keeping a running tally (which, actually, doesn’t make sense for me: I am 100% the type of person who would keep a tally on stuff like this) but I can tell you that far, far more often than not — whether it’s a TV Show, an Album, or a Board Game — people just don’t seem to see it the way that I do and I can’t help but feel that there’s one of a couple reasons for that.

Part III

1. They aren’t actually looking into it as deeply, as meaningfully, as intricately as I do. This is either because they fundamentally lack the tools necessary to do this or because they actually don’t care nearly as much as I do and won’t dive deep enough and, therefore, see my opinion as snobbish, pretentious, “way overthinking it”, whatever it may be.

2. My perspective is inherently “too niche”. Am I wrong? Absolutely not — It’s just not relevant for the “average person”. It makes no difference: even if they DID care enough and DID intrinsically have the tools to dive deep into the piece of art, they would never, could never, (should never?) come to the conclusion that I did. Revolutionary? Perhaps — but the difference between innovative and useless depends on the masses, public perception, and if I’m not winning anyone over, I must desperately change my approach or how I convey such ideas so that my musings aren’t lost to time, swept under the rug, a misunderstood genius who died alone with his thoughts. Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts, I BEG YOU.

3. I’m broken. My brain doesn’t work the way it should. It’s giving “useless” more than “innovative”, but even more so than “useless”: it’s giving “crazy”. Incoherent ramblings from a brain whose air space is just glitter being stirred up by a tornado; loud, obnoxious, messy, worthless. Perhaps I’m just wrong about everything; I have no good or worthy opinions, I can’t break down stuff in a way that has any value whatsoever — in fact, that’s all I do is BREAK stuff; I’m not diving deep, I’m not picking it apart like an expert watchmaker, I’m just beating the shit out of it with a hammer until it breaks in a way that makes sense to me… and only me.

Option #1 makes a whole lot of sense — really getting into a high-level discussion about art of any kind is very, very obviously not for everyone; there’s a reason there are senior-level courses at universities that have a focus on examining and discussing art. One could argue these are merely pretentious professors in a giant circle-jerk extrapolating meaning from nothing… but the same people who argue for that generally happen to be the same people who would fit just right into #1. Also worth noting here: Having the tools is one thing — caring enough to bother might be a completely separate thing.

Option #2 is not entirely as bleak as I might make it out to be — but any hopeful outlook on the situation would require deep, self-introspection mixed with feedback from reliable sources who actually know what they’re talking about. Perhaps it will just take me finding the right people who dig my niche, perhaps that group of people doesn’t exist yet. There’s a reason why artists are posthumously famous — but there’s little comfort in knowing that any talent I might have will earn me nothing until I’ve left this reality. Once again; bleak.

Option #3 is what every creative person seems to face with a different mask: “I’m not good enough, I’ll never be good enough, I’m lying to myself if I actually believe I can make it”. Imposter syndrome, self-doubt, the like. I think it’s worth mentioning because at some point we have to be honest with ourselves in that we may just be full of shit --- but I know this isn’t the case. I know I’m not shit because I’ve had enough people read my work and appreciate it *WITHOUT KNOWING *that I was the author. Either all those people were shitty critics (which, once again, what the fuck is that criteria?) or I do indeed have a modicum of talent and I just need to continue working at my craft. Option #3 is a pill that is only often swallowed by those who DON’T NEED TO BE SWALLOWING IT and is never swallowed by those who do.

There’s no need for me to OD right now. Or ever… but definitely not right now.

Part IV

So how do I approach critique? If we’re talking about why I even bother, it’s only fair to really flesh out the process — and then pick apart that process, yadda yadda yadda, critique the critique method to find if it’s of merit — you know the drill.

First things first — what do I want out of the project? What do I expect out of the project? Judging a book by its cover has some merit, does it not? If I sit down to watch a horror film, it’s only fair that I go in with some reasonable expectations.

Should I feel scared? Excitement? Disgust? Anger? A sense of impending doom? Anxious? Worried? Should I be on the edge of my seat? Should I be yelling at the characters to NOT FUCKING SPLIT UP?

If the end credits roll and I felt NONE of those things, surely there is *something *that can be extrapolated from that, right? Surely my expectations not being met in any capacity means that — at LEAST — the genre tag was entirely wrong if not grossly misleading… even if it doesn’t make the film bad, it provokes the question;

“Why did the cover downright LIE about the movie?” What are they getting at? For Christ’s sake, they named the movie, “The Murderous Rampage of the Sewer Mutant” and it shows an amalgam figure with blood dripping from it’s claws as the poster — am I going insane?”

We shouldn’t judge the book based on it’s cover unless we read the book. If I’m listening to a Metal album and I can’t read the band’s name because of the distorted text — I’m going to have expectations. I don’t find this to be wrong because I’m going to listen to the album.

Of course, all of that was more related to when expectations are completely subverted in every aspect; this isn’t usually the case, like, ever. Generally speaking, the expectations are on a spectrum from “not met” to “exceeds expectations”.

The next step is generally one of perceived effort — and I hate doing this, but it’s almost as if I can’t help myself. If I play a board game and feel like it presented itself as a “grand adventure” and the gameplay is, “you have 1 option, go do that thing, hope that it benefits you more than your opponent”, I can’t help but feel like they’re holding back on me. There are SO MANY different mechanisms they could’ve implemented, there are player options that they took away from me, there are interactions with my opponents that feel forced and cheesy — it’s like they didn’t playtest the game. It’s as if they cut every corner possible then shoved it in a box with cover art that was “pretty” so it could sell. I judge the board game by it’s box art because I *know* if I got lied to.

The level of effort put into a project can be tangible — in fact, it should be. I can see it, smell it, taste it, touch it, hear it because all of my senses are on high alert, every part of my psyche that should be engaged feels catered to, I should be engrossed, overwhelmed by how much I give a shit. I give a shit because the creators gave a shit, and it shows. It’s obvious that they didn’t want to settle, they wanted to achieve something special here; they had an agenda or a message or an experience that they wanted to share and convey with us.

But effort alone isn’t enough — I can give my 110% on a project and, like we discussed earlier, all 110% of it was just shit because I’m not ACTUALLY GOOD at what I’m doing. Or perhaps I lost the plot, got lost in the sauce, I pivoted halfway when I really didn’t need to — whatever the case may be, the effort I put in, at first, tasted sweet — but the flavor quickly grew bitter.

Effort will engage me, yes, but it won’t make me come back for more.

Expectations, effort, and Step 3: Quality. For the sake of having it be three “E’s” we could say “Effectiveness”.

So let’s walk it out: I saw/heard about the project and/or I know what the project is about, so I have an expectation. Then, I start engaging with the project and I can tell how much effort was put into it — I can tell whether or not YOU, the creator, WANTED it to be good or not (holy shit that’s pretentious, someone stop me).

(Okay I distracted myself) To be more fair, I can tell whether or not you wanted it to be as good *as it could possibly be*. When I say something like this, I mean that I’m making an assessment of the resources you had on hand, where and how you spent your time, and if you remained focused, driven, and determined. If I’m listening to a song and the guitar sounds OUT OF TUNE, and it’s pretty obvious that this was NOT intentional — even if the song is good by every other metric — how much effort went into quality control? You couldn’t put the effort in to use a tuner? How did the producer and engineer not hear this? This is an obvious, overly-simplistic example, but it serves a simple purpose: sometimes, it doesn’t take MUCH effort and any lack of effort sticks out like a sore thumb. Bands with no money have tuners, there’s no excuse; the lack of attention to detail takes away from the product — you didn’t try hard enough, you didn’t want it enough.

(Okay, we’re back) Then, after I’m done, I can look back and make an assessment on how effective that effort was — is there actual quality to this project and, if I could measure it based on other pieces of art I’ve interacted with, how would I “rate” it, how would I talk about it, how would I feel about it? Did it meet those expectations? Did it subvert them? Did it find a way to break new ground, establish new meaning that flipped my expectation on its head and made me critically think about it?

Quality (Effectiveness) is just as subjective as the rest of them, let’s just get that out of the way. But my formula for quality is heavily dependent on the first two steps (expectation + effort) and a third “x-factor” mixed in… what’s the x-factor? That seriously depends on the project.

Is it original? Is it unique? Is it a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience? Originality is a common x-factor that can cover a multitude of sins; you can put in “less effort” to a piece of art than you should have, but the sheer fact of it being a brand-new experience can easily shroud the lack of effort with a veil of “mystery”, if you will.

If it is new, if it has never been done before, I cannot fathom or perceive how much effort this thing USUALLY would need — as a song I love says:

“There is nothing to lack when there is nothing to measure”

(Victorian Machinery, Red Hot Chili Peppers)

Aside from originality, the x-factor could be as simple as, “this just speaks to me” or “this one scene / mechanism / bridge before the last chorus just MAKES the movie / game / song” or “I’ve seen this before, but the way they implemented it actually works BETTER than others” — and I think these all speak to “quality” in one way or another.

Originality is a type of quality; there are millions of products, but mine is distinct.

I relate to this on a personal level, not just “anything” does that — this implies quality.

It’s more of the same, until that bridge hits and everything changes, everything snaps into view, it all ties together and is connected, no longer fragmented…

Yes, other board games use this mechanic, but the way this one does it ties in better with the *theme, *the pacing is better, the interactions are more meaningful…

I described effort as something you can touch, taste, smell, see, and/or hear, something that ENGAGES you while it’s happening. Quality is the same thing, but it keeps you engaged AFTERWARDS and makes you come back for more. You need it, you crave it.

Part V

So when the end credits roll, I can look back at the product as a whole — and call it what you want; art, project, product… we’re so intertied and dependent on things being marketable, things needing to sell, things needing to take up market share and increase shareholder value — however you want to slice it, eat your piece of capitalism pie (AND LIKE IT, PEASANT) and try your best to not let it interfere with the things that actually matter…

So when the end credits roll, I can look back at the product as a whole and judge it on my expectations going in, the effort (or lack thereof) that I felt, and the effectiveness of it all when it reaches its conclusion… and then I start the conversation.

My impulsive, knee-jerk reaction formulates into words and I look at my buddy who watched it with me and say, “Wait — so the main character is just an asshole, right? All of that — everything we walked through — was the entire point of it all that they weren’t supposed to learn anything?”

“Well, no -” they reply, adjusting themselves into a more “human” position after being slumped on the couch for the past 2 hours, “they definitely learned from “x”; they did “y” because of what they had learned.”

“But they literally just walked away from “z”… even after that all happened…”

“Well… sure, but — hmm. I think the point of the movie isn’t necessarily about them learning, or them not being an asshole — isn’t it, isn’t it… how do I word this?”

“About the nature of relationships and how people have to make hard decisions?”

“Yeah! I feel like it’s saying you can judge them, sure, but like — you’ve definitely been in situations like that, and sometimes walking away is all you CAN do, right?”

“Sure — but why have the character arc?”

“…whaddaya mean?”

“Why bother walking us through all that just to be like, in conclusion: yeah, life is so hard… like, that’s it?”

“Well, life *is *hard?”

“That’s not very original.”

“Does it need to be?”

“No… it doesn’t need to be, I just felt like it would’ve been more interesting if they would’ve had them actually have to face “z” and see how they chose to hurdle it because of “x” and “y” -”

”- but they hurdled it by walking away.”

“That sounds like the author copped-out and didn’t feel like facing the challenge! That sounds like they ran out of budget!”

“Sure, maybe, but — is it wrong that walking away was a legitimate option and that’s what they chose?”

“Wrong? No — but they ran into so many obstacles in the movie because they just KEPT avoiding them, now we’re suppose to believe that they now understand when they SHOULD be avoiding stuff? I have a hard time believing that.”

“Hmm. Fair enough. I just thought that this other character deserved way more screen time -”

“Oh absolutely, they were hilarious!”

“Best part of the film!”

“Oh yeah, it would’ve been way too dry without them.”

“Totally agree. You know what — yeah, I think you’re right.”

“About?”

“Because — if that other character didn’t exist, the movie would’ve been way less enjoyable and that ending probably would sit worse with me.”

“But because of the comic relief it’s fine?”

“Well, I enjoyed watching it. So, since the ending was at least realistic, or somewhat valid, it’s just fine.”

“I don’t know, feels like I spent 2 hours watching someone walk away from their problems until they all were blowing up in their face and once they actually felt and — seemingly — learned from their consequences… they just do it again, but better?”

“Yeah. I mean?”

“Well, what if walking away from “z” actually turns out to be bad as well? We don’t know ‘cuz it ended, but like — we’re suppose to feel like it was the right choice, but that doesn’t mean it was?”

“That’s true — we spent the entire movie questioning why they made the same decision over and over again because it was a mistake…”

“And now we just gotta trust that they figured it out because they learned from it one time? Like — I doubt it! I think there was a better way for them to handle “z” — I think walking away will blow up in their face, but we’ll never know — and we just gotta live with that?”

“Nah, That’s what the sequel is for!”

“Oh of COURSE, there HAS to be a sequel for it!”

“You know the rule: Never make a movie unless you can make a cash-grab sequel!”

“Watch, the funny guy doesn’t come back because of contract stuff -”

“Don’t worry, they’ll throw Kevin Hart in there instead!”

“OH THANK GOD, PRAISE JESUS!”

When I write my review of the movie, I’m going to heavily emphasize how it did nothing for me; my worldview wasn’t challenged, my morals weren’t put into question, I watched a character face challenges that everyone does and, in the end, their decision was neither right nor wrong, but lackluster and anticlimactic. However, instead of this being seen as an analogy for “life” — and it could’ve very easily been — I’m rather going to critique it instead for not challenging the viewer and leaving them unsatisfied because, at the end of the day, we would have to force ourselves to believe that one decision (how the character handled “y”) changed them fundamentally and we can TRUST them that walking away from “z” is not just “fine” but “the right decision” or, at the very least, “demonstrates growth”…

Because of my expectations going into it, because of the effort I saw, and the complete lack of x-factor involved (anticlimactic ending does not equal “x-factor”, in case you were wondering — it’s REALLY hard to pull off), I can only conclude that this movie lacked quality because the conclusion was either a “that’s life!” analogy or it was unbelievable. Either way, the ending was anticlimactic — I don’t care which you pair it with, neither are winning combinations.

Discussing this further cemented my analysis: people will like this movie because the main character was relatable and a different character was funny and — at the end of the day — don’t we all just WANT to believe that we know when to walk away from shit we don’t want to deal with? Surely this is a VERY happy ending for a certain demographic of people (they aren’t running from their problems, trust me, trust me), and SURELY the people expecting the “Sequel ft. Kevin Hart” are just bursting at the seems with joy…

Conclusion

The last step is always discussion — and that can be the fun part: it never has to stop. Perhaps that’s why I even bother… for pieces of art, projects, or products I find “merit” in, I value the conversation just as much as the piece itself.

I will shit on things — of course. However, me shitting on it is giving it value, right?

“I, Don’t, Care what you think — as long as it’s about me”

(I Don’t Care, Fall Out Boy)

At the end of the day, we want things to get better. We want art to evolve, improve, adapt, and overcome because — well, we NEED it to. If talking poorly about something starts a discussion (a civil one, please and thank you), then surely we have succeeded. The art itself has succeeded — although, perhaps not how it originally intended to… but there’s no such thing as bad press?

I think it boils down to intentions. As pretentious as critique may seem, if your intentions are to spark conversation and inspire positive change, speak your truth. You had an experience with this art, it spoke to you (or it didn’t), it moved you (or it didn’t), it made you feel joy (or… yeah we get it) — you shouldn’t have to lie or beat around the bush to sound less pompous. Be as scathing as you find appropriate.

Just understand that opinions are a dime a dozen. “They’re like assholes, everyone’s got one, they all stink” you know the phrase. Yours could be more well thought-out, deeper, more intricate… but it doesn’t make your opinion the right one. We know this, I’m not breaking new ground here — but I am standing on business: I want my critique to be a place to further discussion — especially when I harshly criticize something! My word is not law, my word is begging for a response.

I can find joy in the most *shitty* art through a meaningful, good-intentioned, conversation, regardless of how we disagree. This is why I bother.

I call out in critique because if I can’t be understood, then I want to be challenged. If I can’t understand, I want to be taught. If we have no common ground, we’re journeying alongside each other in search of some. I want to make art, and I want to change art, and I want to talk about art, and, through these methods, perhaps I can find purpose.

Isn’t that why we bother doing anything?

Ton-Ton