I still don’t know if I’m going to bother watching them or not.

Once upon a time, this was an easy decision: of course I was going to watch the Oscars.  Before I had any interest in the Super Bowl or the Stanley Cup, I was huge into the Academy Awards.  Before I even knew what fantasy sports teams were, I was organizing and betting in Oscar pools.  (Yes, even before I was old enough to drive.)  My research was meticulous, my scoring schemes elaborate, and most of all, I always made a party of it.  Once upon a time, Oscar night was one of my favorite nights of the year.

And so it was for many years.  Until, slowly, things began to change.  My interest in movies never waned, but my interest (and faith) in how the Academy dealt with them did.  At the same time, while the Academy started to tweak its show to allegedly make it more palatable to television viewers, I found these tweaks to have the exact opposite effect on me.  Eventually, a threshold was reached, and I’m pretty sure that it’s been a decade or more since I bothered watching – or, really, caring about the results of – the Oscars.

So, what did it?  The following list isn’t exhaustive, but I think it covers enough bases to paint a picture.

One year, I opened up my Oscar pool to a new group of friends and acquaintances.  Most people who joined up were genuine movie enthusiasts either like myself or at least savvy enough to be involved in the artistic and/or technical conversation.  One gent, however, had not seen any theatrical releases that year, nor had he bothered with any but one come home video time.  This did not concern him; he was quite certain that he could predict the outcomes based on a formula that had nothing at all to do with artistic or technical merits.  I will not share this formula with you – I feel no need to fuel hateful fires – but I will say that it was based entirely on population stereotyping.  He won by a landslide; he got all but three categories exactly right and came close on the ones he missed.  And while I just can’t bring myself to believe in his horrid stereotyping (which, if I were so inclined, would have made some shifts by the present year that I still can’t bring myself to believe in), it was enough to shake my perceptions, and make me take more notice of other things that bothered me.

I never liked the concept of “Oscar season.”  I always felt as though movies that came out during the first three quarters of the year should have the same shot at non-technical awards (the summer pop flicks tended to get the token of visual and sound awards and maybe one other surprise) as those that came out toward the end of the year “when they would be fresh in voters’ minds.”  This always struck me as rigging the vote, and while it didn’t always happen – hey, Gladiator – it usually did.

I know you can’t stop it, but damn, I was bothered by the flagrant campaigning.  It’s in bad enough taste in the political arena; in art, it reaches the point of being counter to what the mission of art is supposed to be in the first place.  And then there were/are the movies that seem very much as though they were made only to compete for awards.  (I’m less inclined to see things that way now, in most cases, but then, yeah.)

I hated, hated, hated – and still do – the eligibility rules insofar as release dates are concerned.  A release date is a release date.  Being released in a couple of theatres in New York and Los Angeles a month before general release everywhere else does not count as a real release date, no matter what the Academy says.  General release date or nothing.  (And hey, you don’t have to keep with the calendar – why not do what the NHL and NFL do, and arbitrarily decide when the year starts and ends based on the date of the final contest?)

The awards show is for the honorees first and foremost, and not for the television audience.  Yeah, I know, that doesn’t sound like I know a damn thing about business (you’d be wrong, and I have the parchment to back me up), but you know what?  This is art, first and foremost, and the day that it’s not is the day that it’s meaningless.  What this means is that the band needs to shut the hell up when people want to say their thank yous on stage.  If six people won the award, they shouldn’t have to pick a spokesperson; everyone should have a shot.  And I don’t give a damn how much “over time” the ceremony is running, when Martin Landau wins his award, you damn well let him speak!  (Yes, I’m still pissed about that one.)  Far from making the Oscars more “audience friendly,” the moves made by the Academy to make sure the program ended in time for the evening news are what finally pushed me over the edge into thinking that they joined the idiot brigade that cared less about the art and artists than about the broadcast ratings.

Alas, along with the enforced brevity of the stuff that mattered, the powers that be also seemed to suck the life and sincerity out of everything else.  The presenters looked more and more like interchangeable talking heads uncomfortable with their cue cards.  The numbers seemed sanitized and less innovative.  Everything got crushed.

And so, somewhere between the politics and the play for television’s lowest common denominator, I decided that I’d had enough.

Crickets chirp for a decade or so.

What made me consider watching again this year was the rumor of all six James Bonds showing up on stage at once, but now it sounds like that won’t happen.  And I can’t say I believe in a “Best Short Film” category that doesn’t have Wonder Russell’s Revelation (see it here) as a nominee.  But most of my friends will be watching, and all things considered, one could argue that I have something of an obligation to at least take a peek for a variety of reasons…  And dammit, no matter what crazy business and politics happen around them, I do love the movies, and this is their night… And I’ll be home…  With some wine…

Maybe this is the year that I give the little bald guy another chance.  Besides, I’d like to see Adele’s performance.  Yeah, that’s it.

During the past twelve months, the site has gone places I’d never expected it to go, and has proven to be a success even beyond my best expectations.  I’ve met some amazing new people along the way, many of whom I now consider to be good friends, and I’ve reconnected with a few old friends, too.  I couldn’t have come this far without them, nor without those other people who visit the site regularly (or even occasionally) but whose names I don’t yet know.

I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for a wonderful first year back in the game.

To mark the occasion, I’ve put together my first “Favorites List” of Eighteen Essential Films.  I hope you’ll all take a look at it and enjoy what’s there, and then tell me what you think.  After all, I wrote the list for you.

It’s now September 15, 2012.  Year Two starts today.  Let’s have some fun.

1.  Bathe before you get there.  Seriously.  If people can smell you from twenty feet away, you shouldn’t be out in public at all, much less in a crowded spot like a movie theatre.  The rule applies equally to B.O., perfume, and cologne.

2. Show up on time.  No, that does not mean that you can assume that you’ll have at least ten minutes’ worth of trailers and commercials and can walk in to a 7:00 movie at 7:10.  It means you buy your ticket no later than 6:50 and get all of your restroom and concession business taken care of and your ass in a seat by 7:00.

3. Be sensible about what movies you’re taking your kids to.  No, I’m not pulling morality crap; I’m talking about using common sense.  Newborns never belong in movie theatres, period.  (That’s just not healthy, never mind the crying.)  If you take a baby with you to see something full of loud explosions like The Expendables, you’re an idiot, and so is the usher who let you into the theatre to begin with.  Toddlers don’t belong in the front row for Hannibal.  The concept you’re failing to grasp here is that of the “babysitter.”

4.  If there’s plenty of space, don’t sit by a stranger.  No, this one can’t be logically applied to a sold out show, but in a mostly or even half-empty theatre, you can and should be cool about this.  Where possible, do not sit in the same row as another person or group.  Do not sit in a row immediately in front of or immediately behind an occupied row if you can help it.  Never sit directly in front of or directly behind anyone else.  (Try for at least a two seat horizontal axis buffer.)  Never sit right next to a stranger unless there’s no other option.  (It’s kind of like Dave Barry’s famous rules for which urinals to use in a men’s room, really.)

5.  If you have the bladder of a nervous Shih-Tzu but ordered the large soda anyway, take an aisle seat.  I think that one’s pretty self explanatory, don’t you?

6.  SHUT UP.  The people around you paid to experience the movie; they did not pay to experience you.  If you absolutely must add your own soundtrack, you have plenty of other options available to you, somewhere else.  Lots of flicks are available on demand before they even hit theatres now; otherwise, it’s gotten to where you’ll see it available to rent inside of three months anyway.  If you want to yap, do it at home!

7.  Silence your phone and don’t answer it until you leave.  If you can’t bring yourself to do this, see the point above.

8.  Don’t kick seats, and don’t put your feet up unless the row in front of you is entirely unoccupied.  Jerk.

9.  Don’t be a slob.  Tossing garbage on the floor, letting your drink cups roll down under the seat in front of you, and especially leaving your soiled condoms behind (yes, I’ve seen this happen) is just not cool.  It annoys everyone else, it’s a safety hazard, and the nice people who work at the theatre are just not paid enough to deal with that crap.  Keep it civilized and use the trash can, huh?

10. I SAID SHUT UP!  That one deserves to be repeated, because too many people fail to listen the first time.  Oh, and don’t have loud discussions about the twist ending as you’re walking out of the theatre and shoving past the people waiting for the next showing, either.  That’s just rude.

Does all of that make sense?  Good.  Now hush; the movie’s starting.

To me, it just signifies a conversation starter.

See, I simply don’t believe that it’s possible to objectively call any film “The Best of All Time.”  A group of films, perhaps; I think it’s possible to come up with a list of a few dozen essentials (ten is simply not enough) that exemplify the art of filmmaking, but an ordered list where each is better than the last and the top spot can only be occupied by one film?  No.

The first problem with this idea is that filmmaking is an art, not a science.  It’s not like (most) math where there’s only one perfect answer and it can be arrived at through objective reasoning; it is, instead, a very subjective thing about which an infinite number of opinions can be correct, for beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.  Yes, there are technical elements that go into making a motion picture that can be judged by a generally agreed upon set of standards, but when it comes to the heart of the thing… again, no.

Humphrey Bogart once dismissed the idea of an Oscar for “Best Actor” because every actor nominated played a different role; the only way to really judge, he said, would be to have every actor read the same scene from “Hamlet” and then make an apples-to-apples comparison based on that.  However, much as I deeply admire Humphrey Bogart, his argument is no less flawed than the original proposition is in the first place.  Different acting “muscles” go into a comedic performance than go into a deeply dramatic one than go into a terrifying one; and so just as it’s an apples-to-oranges comparison to ask whether Bogart’s performance in The African Queen beats Jack Lemmon’s in Some Like It Hot, it’s also an apples-to-oranges comparison to say that Sir Laurence Olivier is a better actor than John Candy or Boris Karloff based on how well he reads “Hamlet.”  Sure, he may be a wonderful Shakespearean dramatist, but I’m pretty certain he’d have stunk playing the lead in Uncle Buck or wearing the makeup in Frankenstein.  Objectivity?  Single sets of standards?  You can try, and maybe you can even build a ballpark or two, but at the end of the day, it’s still going to be apples-to-oranges and/or subjective.

And then there’s the problem I mentioned in my previous post about why I don’t use numeric ratings.  Often times, a movie can do absolutely everything right on a technical level but do absolutely nothing for some people as a piece of entertainment, even if those people are perfectly capable of recognizing that movie’s technical excellence.  For me, one of these films is The Shawshank Redemption.  Wonderfully made; I never want to see it again.  On the other hand, Gymkata is crap by any reasonable person’s definition, and I know it’s crap, but I’d pick Gymkata over The Shawshank Redemption as a movie to watch any day of the week.  Why?  Because I think it’s entertaining, and Shawshank isn’t.

This, in turn, brings up what to me is a key point: can any movie really be “The Best” if one doesn’t want to watch it over and over again?  Citizen Kane is great, and I love it… but only once or maybe twice in a year love it.  To be honest, it’s been six years, I think, and I feel no urge to rush out and reset the clock.  Doesn’t mean that it’s not great, or even that I don’t find it entertaining, but…

Do I have a list of critical “Bests”?  Sure I do, but nothing’s numbered (or even written down), and honestly, I don’t put a lot of weight on it.  Yes, such a list is useful in an academic sense or as a matter of breaking down the technical aspects of filmmaking, but outside of what I would call an academic or “professional inner circle” environment, I think the primary value of such an exercise is exactly what I suggested above: it’s a conversation starter.

But you know what?  Every critic has that conversation.

More interesting to me is the “Favorites” list; movies that a person goes back to again and again, whether they’re “quality” or “crap.”  The kind of list that starts from the question: if you were placed [in an isolated location; you decide if it’s in a spaceship, on a desert island, etc.] for [a length of time; at least a year, maybe more] and could only watch from a library of X number of movies, what movies would be in that library?

I don’t know a single honest person whose list would conform to the AFI “Best”; that’s for damn sure.

At the end of the day, yes, there is a place for “Best” lists, and no, it isn’t the trash.  They’ve got legitimate value to them.  But even there, once you get to the top… it’s a game of microns, people.  Which is better: Citizen Kane or Vertigo?  Personally, I say Vertigo, but I recognize my subjective point of view.  Speaking on a technical level, each is realistically just as good as the other, and when the “Sight & Sound” people put it to a vote… don’t tell anyone, but slide rules and mathematical algorithms weren’t involved: the voters just picked their favorites.

Just sayin’.

PS – I just posted my own Favorites List.

However, after seeing so many others report so much sensationalistic, blithering nonsense about the same subject, I feel as though I have to say something sane.

As everyone with any kind of media feed knows, a murderous cretin opened fire on a crowd gathered to watch a midnight showing of The Dark Knight Rises at a theatre in Aurora, Colorado on July 20th.  The act was heinous, and deserves condemnation; that, I do not question.  The deaths and injuries were and remain a tragedy; these things, I do not question.  Heroism was displayed by selfless individuals who gave their lives for others; this, I do not question.

The murderous cretin – whom I shall not name – was taken alive, clearly contrary to his own plans.  That those plans were spoiled so that he may face justice, I applaud.

For all of the victims and their families, and all others whom this horrible crime has touched, I extend my sincere sympathy.

However, to all of those cheap whores (am I supposed to say reporters and pundits instead?) who have jumped upon this tragedy and sensationalized the hell out of it for the sake of ratings – which, let’s be honest, is a synonym for profits – to them, I extend my disgust, and an invitation to drink several gallons of shut the fuck up.

Reporting the occurrence of this horrible crime is one thing; indeed, it is a responsible thing.  But sensationalizing it is quite another.

The killer has become a media darling.  He’s been given fame, and he’s been given a measure of immortality, neither of which the bastard deserves, but both of which he very much wanted.  That is, after all, why he chose the target he did, and came up with the moniker he did.  I understand that an open justice system requires his name to be entered into the public record, but the media is not obligated to repeat it every five seconds, or even once.  I really wish they wouldn’t.  Every time they do, it’s another victory for him.

Just as every time that some pundit tries to make political and/or ratings points by harping endlessly about the fact that he chose to commit his crime at a midnight movie showing where people celebrated by wearing costumes, the killer once again gains a victory.

Yes, the crime was terrible, but let’s remember these very important points:

1) The movie theatre did not kill or harm anyone.

2) The movie that was playing did not kill or harm anyone.

3) The movie that was playing did not suddenly inspire an otherwise peaceful individual to go crazy and kill.

4) The costumes that people were wearing did not kill or harm anyone.

5) Peaceful, law abiding audience members who brought their families and friends to a fun cultural event did not kill or harm anyone.

6) The time of day did not kill or harm anyone.

7) One murderous cretin with a gun did kill and harm a lot of people.  His target was one of convenience, designed to bring about exactly the kind of sensationalism that the media at large is giving him.

If there’d been no costumes allowed, he’d have still done it.  If the film hadn’t played at midnight, he’d have come to a different packed show at another time of day.  And so on and so on and so on.  And yet, despite what should be glitteringly obvious, the media at large has chosen to put far less focus on the fact that some shithead shot a bunch of people than they do one the fact that it was done at a midnight showing of a Batman movie.

This is bloody insane.

And yet, people are questioning whether costumes should be allowed at movies anymore.

And yet, people are questioning whether movies should be shown at midnight anymore.

And yet, some people are even questioning whether The Dark Knight Rises should still be shown at all, ever.

It is sad and horrible – as all murders are – but let’s be honest: there have been more mass shootings at McDonald’s restaurants in my lifetime than there have been at movie theatres.  I don’t recall anyone ever stopping all Golden Arches advertising for a weekend or demanding that Big Macs be banned.  Or school books, when such tragedies have happened in schools.  Or the mail, back when so many awful things happened that society gained the phrase “going postal.”

So why this?  Why now?  Not because the pundits and talking heads give a shit about anyone’s safety.  It’s because they want ratings, or because they’re seizing the opportunity (as they will any opportunity) to condemn “deviant” people who aren’t Just Like Them and who dare to wear anything other than business or golf attire out in public, or who Should Have Been In Church.

And, of course, the whole “violent movies did this” crap has also reared its ugly head again, thanks to Mr. Weinstein, of all people.  I reiterate a point above: the movie did not pull a trigger and shoot, nor did it cause the man who actually did shoot to do it.  No movie ever has – not even a recruiting film.  Beyond a certain age, all people are responsible for their own actions.  (It’s not the baby’s fault if he spits up.)  When an adult is not responsible, then that person is ill, and needs and deserves mental health care in a safe environment – be that in patient or outpatient – and, oh yeah, that person shouldn’t have any access to guns.  (Guess which is easier to get between good mental health care and firearms, by the way?)

Humans were violent before they had movies; in fact, they were more violent before they had movies.  Or video games.  Or horror comics.  Like it or not, it is part of our legacy as a species.  (Or do you think that all of the centuries prior to the Twentieth were full of nothing but peace love and understanding?)  However, most people – especially in modern times, and especially in developed societies – have moved past these violent tendencies and channeled them elsewhere.  For most, violent movies are a release, not a trigger.

Am I saying that no one has ever been sparked in any way by a movie or a book or a television show?  Of course not, though I will also say that these sparks are usually of a positive nature.  But whether they are positive or negative, these sparks are the result of something that’s already part of a person’s psyche.  I once knew someone who started a fist fight because he heard a bird singing.  Does that mean we should get rid of birds?  Ridiculous.

Instead of blaming art or blaming birds or bats or anything of the sort, how about we start by being responsible parents?  How about we act like good friends?  How about we take responsibility for ourselves, and look out for those around us, and help them when we see something’s wrong?  How about, instead of letting insurance companies and politicians decide who needs how much mental health care (or health care period) and when, we let the professionals handle it, and make sure that the patients who need it can get it and get it adequately, and unarmed?  (And that the professionals entrusted to giving this care are up to the task?)

And when someone does something horrible, how about we stop sensationalizing their actions and giving them more time and attention than we do to real heroes?  How about we stop giving the cretins of the world the fame and immortality they crave, and just let them fade into anonymity where they belong?  Mourn the victims, yes; celebrate the heroes, yes; but don’t rip the wounds right back open again every five minutes by glorifying the murderers.

Instead of blaming art or bats or birds or anything of the sort, how about we blame the jerk who did it, and then let the artists, filmmakers, cosplayers, and movie theatre patrons who did nothing wrong go about their lives unhindered… and blameless.

Stars: Either a 4, 5, or 10 star system.

Numeric Ratings: 0 or 1 to 5 or 10.

Letter Grades:  A to F.  Sometimes with + or – suffixes available.

There is no qualitative difference at all between these systems.  They’re all thermometer scales with the same (or very nearly the same, depending on the critic) number of stops along the way, and they’re “one size fits all” systems.  There’s also an implied breakdown in each system into just three categories: Good, Okay, Bad.  Which brings us to the fourth system:

Binary:  Yes/no.  Thumbs up/down.  Smile/frown.  You get the picture.

This is about as basic as it gets, and the critics who use this kind of system don’t even allow for a middle ground.

If you’ve visited my site at DoomCheez.com, you’ll notice that I don’t use any of these systems.  Instead, I pair the stuff I review with cheese and alcohol, and even then, the pairings don’t always carry the same symbolism from review to review.  However, I do think that they’re a much better representation of the actual experience provided by a given show.

I used to use a numeric scale on my older sites, but it always bothered me.  For one thing, I think that people put too much stock in the quickest thing they see: often, people will see that a critic gave a movie four stars or a thumbs down or whatever and not bother reading the review.  This is something that I wanted to avoid.  After all, I spend hours writing these things, and I’d really appreciate it if that effort was rewarded with a read.  But more importantly, when I write a review, I make sure to explain why I feel a certain way about whatever it is I’m reviewing, which is something that absolutely cannot be conveyed by a number or a thumb or line of stars.  Not all movies that rate a critical 1/10 are wastes of time, just as there are some 10/10 movies that I never, ever want to see again.  No matter how I went about coming up with the numbers, the numbers would rarely tell the whole truth.

Here are two standout examples.

On the high number side we have The Shawshank Redemption, which sits near or at the top of roughly a zillion internet critics’ lists.  On a critical level, I have to agree that it’s an excellent film.  It is very well acted, the screenplay is excellent and very well adapted from its source material, and the direction is powerful.  Giving a movie like this anything less than a 9/10 would be an injustice, and anything other than a 10/10, realistically, would be nitpicking.  When I reviewed it for my old site, it got the high number that almost any film professor would say it deserves, and which the effort of the people involved certainly warrants.  Nothing else would have been appropriate.

Except that I don’t like that movie and never want to see it again.  Despite all of its artistic merit and the truly outstanding work done by the cast and crew, I don’t find it entertaining in the least.  And so the number lied.

Pair it with a high quality but aromatic cheese and bitter alcohol, and that’s more like the truth, whether or not one actually finds the film entertaining… and it also presents the reader with much more incentive to read the whole review and find out why.

On the low side, we have something like Gymkata, which is generally regarded as the worst martial arts flick ever made.  By any objective critical standard, it stinks.  Kurt Thomas has no business pretending to be an action hero, and the story is the very definition of absurdity.  No self-respecting critic could look at this train wreck and call it at higher than a 2/10; really, without a mulligan, it deserves a 1/10.

Except that for people who love the genre, this movie is so horrible that it comes out the other side as a must-see classic of truly epic proportions.  I want everyone to see this movie.  Again, a number tells a lie.

But pair it with Cheez Whiz and cheap beer, and whether or not one is the type of person who recognizes crap as art, that pairing tells a very definitive truth.  And yes, and it also presents the reader with much more incentive to read the whole review.

And that, my friends, is why I stopped doing numeric ratings.  Numbers, stars, and thumbs just don’t tell a true story.  Not one worth putting stock in, anyway.

Having my own gimmick is nice, too, of course.  Care for some Cheddar and an Anchor Steam?

If you’re like most people, your gut reaction was to say “It sucked.”  If that’s the case, you’re wrong.

Perhaps you took it a step further and went with something on the order of “That’s the worst crap I’ve ever seen.”  If that’s the case, not only are you wrong, but you’re even more wrong than the first guy was.

I’ve been doing this for over a decade now, and I’ve picked up on a few secrets of audience psychology, though really, there’s nothing secret about them; it’s just a matter of remembering how to think like everyone else, which is a skill that many people – both critics and creators – lose the moment that they enter into their chosen arena.  So what, then, is the single worst thing that I or any other critic can say about your project?

“It’s okay.”

Even the actual words “disaster” and “doom” don’t convey the reality of disaster and doom to a project as swiftly as the phrase “it’s okay.”  There’s just no creative death sentence as sure as being chucked into the pile of dispassionate mediocrity.

Here’s the full equation:

Best Ever > Excellent|Great|Good = Worst Ever > Bad > Okay

Here it is broken down:

Best Ever.  Whether we’re writers or actors or directors or plumbers, it’s the accolade we all strive for, and why not?  It’s really kind of a no-brainer, isn’t it?  The best is the best.  As long as an audience has respect for – or, perhaps even more to the point, no active disrespect for – the critic making the determination, then an accolade like “Best Ever” or even “Among the Best” will grab attention, and it will have an impact.

Excellent|Great|Good.  While these words represent a sliding scale by definition and in the minds of most critics, as well, most audiences when looking at a review tend to lump these and similar words into the same judgmental pile.  An actor, of course, is likely to and should catch the difference in degrees when seeing his or her own performance described, but being honest, the audience at large is far less likely to make that distinction.  It’s a curse of overuse, but on the plus side, all of those words still translate into “go see my movie or watch my show,” so if the audience misses the nuance, it’s still a positive result.

Worst Ever.  You’re either nodding and smiling with understanding or you’re very confused.  Yes, folks, I’m telling you that “Worst Ever” or “Among the Worst” is just as good as and sometimes even better than “Good.”  Why?  There are a few bits of psychology at work here.

First, there is a massive contingent of people out there who are magnetically drawn to crap.  They take phrases like “the worst ever” and “steaming pile of animal waste” as personal challenges.  I know these people well, for I am one of them, and we are legion.  Gaining a reputation as an ultimate stinker in a genre (especially one that doesn’t get a lot of popular respect to begin with) can actually lead to greater success for a film than being called “decent.”  For example, does anyone really think that the Dino version of Flash Gordon is beloved by fans even thirty years later because it’s good?  Hell, no!  People love it because it’s so horrible that it’s come out the other side!  That is the power of “the worst ever.”

Hell, I’ve even had a filmmaker or three thank me for laying that kind of label on their project.  One said “it proves you’re honest” (and hey, that proves that the guy was real about his own stuff), and another said that if a few more people said the same thing, it could easily triple the rentals.

This is also where an audience’s disrespect for a critic can come into play.  I knew a guy in university who always wanted to know what Leonard Maltin thought of any given movie.  It’s not because he liked Maltin, though; it’s because he couldn’t stand him, and so he was automatically suspicious of anything Maltin liked, and almost certain to go see anything Maltin called out as garbage.

Bad.  All of the above applies to a lesser degree to this category.  Much like “Best” is to “Good,” the superlative value of “Worst” has got steroid-ridden muscle.

Again, though, “bad” is far from being a death sentence.  Just ask Kristen Stewart and everyone else associated with Twilight, or the Wayans brothers.

Okay.  Now that you’ve had time to give it some thought, it should be obvious that there’s nothing in the critical universe worse than “okay.”

It often means “your project was so uninteresting that I couldn’t even get pissed off about it.”  At least when a critic hates something, you know that your project was able to stir some kind of emotion in someone.  But when a critic – who is more likely as a matter of course to be trying to find the emotion in something that he or she is watching – can’t be stirred at all, even to complain?  Uh-oh.  After all, isn’t that what we’re supposed to love to do?

Looking at it from another angle, imagine some other aspect of your life, like lunch.  When a friend asks how your boring, unexciting meal is, what are you likely to say?  “It’s okay.”  But you don’t mean it.  Two days later you’re probably not even going to remember what it was.  Now flash forward again and replace that lunch with the project you’ve worked so hard on as a creative professional.  Do you really want someone to find it so uninteresting that they call it “okay,” the kiss of “I’ll forget it before next week”?  I suspect you’d rather they were pissed enough to remember it instead.  At least then you know you reached the person.

At least then, too, you’d have a shot of appealing to the “bad” instincts noted above, whereas “meh/mediocre” is a pretty universal “I’ll pass, thanks.”

So the next time you read a review that says “this movie sucks” or “that was the worst performance ever,” remember: it could be worse.  The critic could have spoken in vague generalities and then said “it’s okay,” thereby telling everyone that he or she actually couldn’t give a shit less one way or another.

“I lost a lot of my desire to review movies when the rental stores started to die out.   [Now] I’m pretty much limited to whatever Netflix or the Redbox has.  This, for me, sucks, because I always was a martial arts fan, and there are a lot of Grade Zilch karate epics that I can no longer get my hands on… I mean there was nothing for me more fun than going to the local video hut [and] renting something obscure or B-grade…  You just don’t have that anymore… A good amount of crap hasn’t surfaced on DVD yet,  and the new crap [that is] on DVD isn’t as fun.”

The man’s got a point.  Several, in fact, and I think that many people who jumped into The World According To YouTube and never looked back just don’t understand.

The “Digital Revolution” was supposed to make everything accessible to everyone all the time, on demand, but that’s not what really happened.  In fact, in a very real sense, it’s helped to hasten the disappearance of a lot of stuff from the pre-digital age that doesn’t fit into the standard definition of “current market” or “classic.”  If it’s not part of a rights package picked up by Netflix or Apple or Amazon, odds are that it’s going to be gone for everyone but the Library of Congress, the pirate community, and the descendants of Ted Turner in very short order.  If it’s one of those that never made it past the analog world of VHS, it may be gone already.

And if the Canadian government ever decides to relax its “Canadian content” rules for its television stations, ninety percent of the 1990s action genre could be wiped out in one stroke, because that’s just about the only place where those movies seem to live anymore.

Like Kenner, I remember many a late night safari into a video store, looking for anything that caught my eye.  It didn’t have to resemble anything else I’d watched in the past few weeks (probably best if it didn’t), and I wasn’t in the mood to go through a bunch of survey options about what stars I wanted or what genre I wanted.  What about the first few letters of a title?  I didn’t know, and that was the point of the whole exercise.  I just wanted to look, and if I saw something interesting, I’d pick up the box and look some more.  It was an adventure in controlled randomness that you just don’t get by going through drop down menus.

I discovered a lot of great – and wonderfully bad – stuff that way.

And if I didn’t find something interesting at one video store, I could always go down the street – because once upon a time, video stores were like coffee shops are now – and go to another one, and they’d have an appreciably different selection.  It was like magic.  Store A might not have had much in the way of action, but they did have stuff like Nasty Rabbit and Capricorn One.  Store B, meanwhile, had the entire Cynthia Rothrock library, and a pretty decent selection of Bolo Yeung.  Score either way.

Whereas now that the video stores have closed up and gone (there’s exactly one left that’s anywhere near me; it’s smaller than an average apartment), you fire up your Netflix account, and either they have Capricorn One, or they don’t.  Anywhere.  There’s no “checking another store.”  Go to another Netflix-capable device and the answer will be the same whether you’re in Baton Rouge or Seattle.  And you’ll have to either know exactly what you’re looking for or go through a bunch of menus to find out.  Adventure?  Fun?  I don’t think so.

As for Redbox… please.  That’s like a Top 40 radio station.  Useless.

Sure, you could hop on Amazon and see what’s there, but the stuff that made video stores fun is disappearing fast.  Basically, Amazon is now the clearing house for the stores that went under at this point, and once that stock is gone…  There’s a reason that some of these movies can sell used on VHS for $80 and up.  It’s because they’re endangered.  Entire classes of movies are on the brink of availability extinction.

And again, forget browsing on Amazon.  No matter how many suggestion algorithms the tech and marketing guys throw in, that’s one experience that cannot be digitally replicated.  Suggestions are based on what you’ve done before or on what’s being pushed.  If anything, the experience is designed to prevent you from “stumbling across” something different and exciting on “the shelf.”

Of course, times change.  I know that.  Music stores went first, then video stores, and now they’re working on bookstores, with big box electronic specialty retail on deck.  But in the race to close down the brick and mortar world, something magical is being lost.  There really is nothing like that adventure safari of browsing to find something different; the invitation to Chance to come along for the ride and help you pick out a movie.

So, do I understand where Kenner’s coming from?  You bet I do.  I feel it, too.  My response is different from his, but I do understand.

Sure, you can write those safaris off as nostalgia if you want, but there’s also something more pressing and perhaps even more sinister that goes along with them.

The tighter we channel our outlets, the fewer choices we have, not just individually, but societally.  Your Netflix is my Netflix.  Same exact selection.  Same exact limits on that selection.  Still a lot; sure.  But as the clusters that had been centered around local stores now converge centrally in the world of Netflix, et.al., many niches start to disappear.  It takes a much larger customer segment for the sales and marketing guys to justify getting the rights to something.  It may not quite be the Top 40 pointlessness of Redbox, but Top 1000 isn’t out of the question.  As above, it’s a betrayal of the promise of the Digital Revolution: instead of making content more available, it’s setting the old stuff on fire so that only the popular stuff and the stuff that has the best sales representation at the time get to keep playing.

One result is that people like Kenner and people like me are watching not just some of our favorite movies but even entire genres of old die.  That’s depressing enough, but it also means that no one else will have a chance to discover them, either.

And let’s have another look at those suggestion algorithms used by Netflix, Amazon, Apple, and the other digital players.  Again, they’re not designed with chance – or diversity – in mind.  You’ll get what they’re sure they can sell you.  You’ll be directed to your established patterns and maybe some trends based on your demographic profile.  If you’ve been into comic book hero movies, that’s what you’ll get.  Not a shot in hell you’ll discover Juliette Binoche in Chocolat under that system, or even find out that Billy Blanks used to do something in front of a camera other than Tae Bo.  No chance to broaden your horizons.

And to cap it all off, anything you find on Netflix, et.al. is as temporary as the studios want it to be.  It has to keep getting renegotiated, so the movie you can always get today, you might not ever see again starting tomorrow.  Even downloaded material can be controlled with the right code attached to it.  And since it’s just digital, it’s not like there’s stock left to sell after the delete or disable key gets pressed, which is just how the studio wants it.  Secondary markets don’t make them any money.

So come to think of it, better enjoy the solid copy stuff you can get from Amazon while you’re still able to, as well.

I suspect that the Video Store Lament is just starting.

Since the 1950s, the term “3D” has been colloquially used to describe what effects artists call “stereoscopy” – the technique for creating the optical illusion of depth for a flat image.  Commonly, a flat image is considered “two dimensional,” depicting only the dimensions generally referred to as “width” and “height” (or if you prefer, “width” and “length,” which is saying the same thing).  The addition of depth is therefore said to add a “third dimension” in the form of depth; ergo, 3D.

If this was still the 1950s, that might get a pass, even though it was just as wrong then as it is now.  But here in the 21^st Century, people really should know better.

Even a flat, still image – i.e. a photograph – is three dimensional, as is a standard motion picture.  It’s just that the third dimension being portrayed happens to be the one we all take for granted because we all perceive it in only one direction and generally at the same rate.  We call this dimension “time.”

A flat, still image not only shows a scene with perceptible dimensions of length and width, but it also captures a particular moment in time.  Three dimensions.  A standard motion picture is a series of still images progressing through time.  Again, three dimensions.  Ergo, flat photographs and traditional motion pictures are, in fact, 3D presentations.

Thus it follows that when one adds depth to the picture, a viewer is now experiencing something in four dimensions: 4D.

It’s basic science.  Time is a dimension.  Catch up, Hollywood.

[If you’re into M Theory, there are also seven more dimensions to be considered, but since we can’t actively perceive those, I think we can stop at calling it 4D.  For now.]

To be fair, I know that you’re all busy people, and that most of you would rather just focus on filmmaking.  Even Orson Welles couldn’t stand what he called the “98% hustling” component of the movie business.  But without big budget agencies to do the hustling for you, you’ve got to do the hustling yourself.  (And even if you’ve got the agency, it’s still worth doing an audit every now and again.)  While I know a thing or two about business, I’m not going to try and paint myself as a marketing guru or anything like that, and I’m not going to give out any financial advice.  However, I am going to point out some things that I look for when I do research that I often just don’t see, and I think you’ll find that many of these things have a direct bearing on your ability to promote and market – or to not promote and not market – yourselves and your projects.

None of this is meant to be an indictment on anyone, and I’m certainly not going to name any names, even if pressed, though I think most of you will find something to recognize about yourselves in at least some of the items below.  Rather, this is truly friendly observation and advice from someone who wants you all to succeed.

Yes, I’m a critic, but that doesn’t change the fact that I do want you to succeed.  (Don’t tell anyone, but I’m really a nice person.)  With that in mind, here are three major items that I’ve seen many of you missing.

I. You need a headshot, and so does your production.

Every acting professional out there knows that he or she needs a headshot.  But it’s not just for handing around; it also belongs on every site you use to network and promote yourself.  I mean all of them.  Your official site, IMDB, LinkedIn, everything.  And they’re not just for the actors, either.  Directors, producers, grips; get ‘em up there.  Having a blank space where the site thoughtfully has a spot reserved for your picture is just like putting up an invitation to be ignored.

Speaking of which… you know that your film or webseries needs a headshot, too, right?

Why yes, there is such a thing.  It’s called a poster, and an amazing number of independent productions don’t bother to make one.  That’s just like saying “my project isn’t important enough,” and if it’s not important enough to you, why should it be important to me, either as a fan or as a critic… or as a potential backer?  And even among those production teams that do make posters, many don’t put them online.  (The photo of you at the fan convention with a beautiful one sheet tacked up behind you doesn’t count.)  Your poster is your headshot and your business card rolled into one.  Respect your project, make one, and get it out there for people to see, in a size where the writing is at least theoretically legible and in a format that’s readily distributed.  (PDF does not count; in fact, that’s negative points if it’s the only way you’ve got it.  Besides, you want this to show up in a Google image search.  If someone else grabs it and puts it up on another site, that’s called free publicity for you.)  Every website, every promo kit, everywhere you’re going to market yourself.  As with headshots, having a blank space where someone thoughtfully has a spot reserved for your poster is just like putting up an invitation to be ignored.

I know I’ve ignored a few blank spots.

II. You didn’t grab a domain, or you’re not taking advantage of it.

For many of you – I daresay even the majority at this point – the web is at least part of your distribution plan, and even if it’s not, it’s definitely part of your marketing plan.

Facebook isn’t going to cut it, folks.  It’s a fine tool and a good way to stay in touch with your audience, but it’s no substitute for an honest-to-goodness official website with a real domain name, as in www dot my-movie-or-series dot com.  (I’ll let some of you slide with my-production-company dot com, but 99.99% of the time, doesn’t each project deserve its own spot in the sun?)  It looks way more professional (you can read that as “looks more impressive to potential financial backers” if you want), it plays to modern net user psychology (the first thing many people do when they hear about something is try to type www dot that-thing-I-heard-about dot com), it’s searchable, and it allows you all of the creative flexibility you could hope for.  It won’t even cost you twenty bucks, and that can include hosting.  The free tools out there mean even the least savvy people can make a decent looking site, and if you want to go the pro route, it’s still a solid and relatively small investment.  Once you’ve got your site, it’s one stop marketing heaven.  Production notes.  Promo pics.  Release schedules.  For many of you, your content itself.  It also happens to be a great place to attract investors from.

Speaking of…

Since you’ve got the domain already, you should really take advantage of the email options that go with it.  People are much more likely to treat someone professionally when the contact address is my-name at my- production dot com rather than my-name at yahoo dot com.  Those free addresses are great, but I know many people who wouldn’t even think of giving money (or even professional courtesy) to someone making the request via hotmail.  Having your domain gives you an air of legitimacy; make the most of it.

Of course, that email option only works if you put an address somewhere that people can see it.  Canned forms that sign someone up for an announcement list don’t cut it.  And even if you use a form that sends a regular message to a regular person, many people would rather send from their email client of choice (especially if the content contains certain types of information, like, say, something financial), and that means showing your address.  Remember, you’re promoting yourself and/or your production.  Is this really time to be squeamish about contact info?

III. You don’t make use of the IMDB.

I honestly can’t believe that I even have to say this, but as I’ve tried to research some of the stuff I’ve reviewed, I keep running into projects that

1) aren’t listed on the Internet Movie Database at all, or…

2) don’t have listings that are complete and up-to date.

This is the single most popular source of entertainment industry information on the entire planet, people!  Everyone, both people “in the business” and people who make up that lovely group called “the audience” (aka “your paycheck”), looks at this site.  Not taking full advantage of it is just like saying that you really didn’t want to be noticed by anyone outside of your immediate circle of friends, family, and colleagues anyway.  Come on!  You and your projects deserve better!

And yet…

1) Despite the fact that it is produced by one of the savviest, most on-the-ball indie people I know of, there’s a webseries I looked up that is a) listed as a short film, and b) still listed as “completed,” even though it went into release some time ago.  On the plus side, at least there’s a poster and a full cast and crew listing.

2) This certainly beats another webseries that is in production, but doesn’t have a page at all.  Some of the primary people involved have cast and crew listings for other projects on IMDB, but no headshots and no additional information.  Others have nothing at all on IMDB, period.

3) But even that beats yet another webseries that was released some time ago, and which also has absolutely nothing up.  They don’t even have the lame excuse of “I was waiting for the release date” to fall back on.

I could go on, but I think you get the point.

If you’re an actor or any kind of crew member, you need to make sure that you have an IMDB page and that you max it out.  Make sure your credit list is complete.  Make sure you’ve got a headshot posted.  Make sure there’s a bio you’re comfortable with.  Put something in the quote section.  Make sure there’s a link to your official website.  (And I mean the real one!)  If you’ve done interviews or other press that’s online, make sure there are links from your IMDB page, even if they’re already linked from your official one.  You can never give yourself too many outlets.

If you’re a producer of anything that’s ever going to be seen outside of your own home or classroom, you need to get your project listed.  It doesn’t matter if it’s only a minute long; it counts.  As long as it’s reached the stage of being a “go” in a way that goes beyond “wishful thinking,” it counts.  Get it up there.  Get your poster up there.  Write a synopsis that you like.  Put up a few stills.  Put up a trailer when you make one.  Put up your links.  Credit your whole cast and crew; people might stumble onto your project by looking up other stuff they’ve been in.  (I’ve found a few things that way myself.)  And keep your page updated as production progresses; don’t leave it in “pre-production” status a year after your actual release date!  This is a marketing tool that can reach literally over a billion people; don’t waste the chance to use it!

Hopefully, everything above made sense.  I can say with certainty that all of it is stuff that I look for, and I know that I’m not the only one who does by a longshot.  Like I said before, none of the above is meant as an indictment on anyone.  It’s just a wake-up call, and one that I hope you find helpful and useful.  I also hope that you’ll act on it.  Almost everything up there is free to do, and the stuff that isn’t is still pretty cheap.  Whether your investment is in time or money, I think you’ll find that the returns will be more than worth it.

If you have any comments, I’d love to hear them.