The Steven St. Croix/Harold Hecuba syndrome

I might as well just come right out with it, people: I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Dunno if it's the heat, or the fact that I'm getting behind in my work because my plasma display's still broken, or because I cannot count among my readership any authorized Hitachi parts and services providers who are fans to the extent that they would offer to repair my plasma display for free, or some combination of all of the above. (And by the way, many thanks to the readers who have taken such sympathy to my plight that they've hit the tip jar—it definitely helps.)

Who am I kidding? It's all of that, but it's not only all of that. 

The other day, some online exploration—which I'm beginning to think is just never, ever a good idea—directed me to something that I would have otherwise avoided, that is, Armond White's review, in the every-issue-thinner-than-the-last New York Press, of Todd Solondz's Life During Wartime, a film I admire substantially. Now I understand that, around the time of Transformers 2 if not well before, Armond traded a more-or-less conventionally "contrarian" stance for an extremely aggressive Bizarro World ("Us do opposite of all earthly things!") approach to film criticism; it was no longer enough to condemn that which was largely embraced by the critical community, such as it was; White now took up as his duty the slathering of thoroughly irrational praise on certifiable dogshit. None of this would matter if people just stopped paying attention to White entirely, but one peculiar bit of blowback from the situation is that White's praise for a particular film can now be used as a cudgel against that picture by those who aren't as enthused about it. Hence, someone such as myself can be put into a position of defending Solondz's film not only from attacks against it, but from White's praise of it. An odd, interesting situation, to be sure. 

White's review, of course, is worthless from word one, with which he begins to evoke a film he didn't like, Todd Haynes' I'm Not There. Solondz decorates the dorm room of one of Wartime's characters with a poster for that film; White reads this as Solondz forgiving "the thief who purloined then degraded his [Solondz's] highly original concept." Welcome to Armond's world, where if he likes what you do, it means you must think exactly like him. Christ, what a dingus. And on it goes, with one of the most thoroughly simplistic readings of the film's explorations of the themes of forgiving and forgetting, and a lot of meaningless sentences along the lines of "The gravity of Solondz's satirical bent—a modern version of what Bellows' generation joked about as Jewish guilt—adds universality to his observation of the contemporary condition." That phrase "Bellow's generation"—it still makes my head spin. White means Saul Bellow, although he might as well be talking about Dr. Alfred Bellows, the I Dream Of Jeanie character, for all the fucking sense he's making. He wraps up the review by saying of the film "as an expression of modern compassion, it's genius." And then Mr. Modern Compassion begins his Salt notice by sneering at Angelina Jolie's "Benetton brood" of adopted children. (He must be a trifle worried about the fate of his current, diminishing semi-legit berth, because the rest of the review reads for an audition for Big Hollywood, with its excoriation of "Hollywood liberals" who "exploit their privilege, defaming America, undermining national confidence and carelessly trifling in politics," blah, blah, fucking blah. Again: what a dingus. Also, I can't wait until he finds out what Big Hollywood pays its contributors.)

So there was that, and I thought that maybe I could cobble a relatively amusing post out of it. Or not. And shortly thereafter, as I began to, with some slight but distinct rue, mull over the general futility of the reviewing-the-review idea, I began to come across various bits of online reaction to a negative New York Times review of the film Audrey the Trainwreck, which had its New York premiere on Friday at Brooklyn's ReRun Gastropub Cinema. "NYT review of Audrey The Trainwreck gives voice to acid reflux in written form," sniffed Ray "Charley" Pride on his Twitter feed. (For the record, my general feeling about Mr. Pride finds its precise articulation in Miles Davis' description of Symphony Sid.) The more intellectually congenial and estimable Richard Brody, after a description of the film that is typically deft but skates pretty close to the special pleading area while trying to build a straw man out of what most people would call craft or professionalism, also notes the Times review, and calls it "shameful;" noting that its reviewer, Mike Hale, describes the film's perspective as "condescension masquerading as observation," Brody counters "an apt description of his review." Aha, the old "I know you are, but what am I?" trick! And finally, there was the inevitable, and inevitably re-tweeted,"Can I have Mike Hale's job? Because he sucks." Ha ha ha ha ha, wishing for somebody's unemployment is fun! (And one once again contemplates money. And wonders whether these not-at-all self-satisfied snark maestros know what the New York Times pays its lower-level staffers and freelancers. I recall, twenty or so years ago, doing the requisite number of mother-impressing Arts & Leisure pieces for the Old Gray Lady and then defecting with nary a second thought to the New York Daily News, not just because Elizabeth Pochoda was a difficult person to say no to, but because the pay was substantively better.)

Understand, incidentally, that this isn't about Audrey the Trainwreck, which I haven't seen, and which, if I do see it, I will likely be happy to form and perhaps even articulate an opinion on. It's about my being put off by the insular and cliqueish wagon-circling in response to a negative review of the thing, and to the adolescent mix of resentment and triumphalism in that response: "Aww, the big bad New York Times didn't like our raw, honest, no-budget, maybe-mumblecore movie. Well it figures, because they SUCK anyway." Whereas had Mike Hale loved Audrey, it'd be all "Yay! We got a rave review in the Times!" and no mention, of course, of the inescapable fact that Hale is to Times movie reviewers as, by the lights of Guy Woodhouse, Dr. C.C. Hill is to OB/GYNs. It's just as intellectually deformed as any Roger L. Simon rant about the "lame stream media," when you come right down to it. I stopped reading Simon, Ann Althouse, and Glenn Reynolds, some time back, and it did wonders for my sanity. To stop reading this sort of thing is a bit more of a challenge, as I am, so to speak, in the same room with these people.

And so, yesterday afternoon, I despaired somewhat, taking off from "What's the fucking point?" and spiralling down from there; and my thoughts turned, as they frequently do, to David Foster Wallace, and to this passage from his essay "Big Red Son," describing the first pieces of "random spatter" he experiences on entering the "Adult CES expo" in January of 1998:

A second-tier Arrow Video starlet in a G-string poses for a photo, forked dorsally over the knee of a morbidly obese cellphone retailer from suburban Philadelphia. The guy taking the picture, whose CES nametag says Hi and that his name is Sherm, addresses the starlet as "babe" and asks her to readjust so as to 'give us a little more bush down there.' An Elegant Angel starlet with polyresin wings attached to her back is eating a Milky Way bar while she signs video boxes. Actor Steven St. Croix is standing near the Caballero Home Video booth, saying to no one in particular "Let me out of here, I can't wait to get out of here."

The real person who appears in Wallace's essay under the pseudonym "Harold Hecuba" was/is my friend Evan Wright, who gives a brief account of how he came to meet Wallace in the introduction to his latest collection of journalism, Hella Nation. (Also for the record, I, who appear in Wright's account as well, have an entirely different recollection of certain events described therein, which is something I have to take up with Evan some time, and is of no import here.) Wright, who at the time of this meeting was on the staff of Hustler magazine, and trying rather desperately to get leave the staff of Hustler magazine, also discusses his initial befuddlement at some of Wallace's references (the two in fact became pretty fast friends not too long after first meeting, though), as here:

I spent several days trying unsuccessfully to decipher the meaning of his reference to Hecuba, torturing myself over my inability to decode the meaning of the great author's reference. Finally I called Wallace. He was stunned that I didn't get who Harold Hecuba was. "He's, you know, the Phil Silvers character who guest stars on Gilligan's Island," Wallace explained. "I thought you would get it. You don't feel bad about it?"

"Why should I?"

"You shouldn't," Wallace said. "Hecuba's on stuck on the island like everybody else. He gets off of it. Makes it back to the mainland, I think, that is, if I have my Gilligan's Island references right."

And you see where this is going. I thought of a friend of mine, who's written quite a bit of terrifically acute criticism, who's soon leaving the country for pretty much good, and of a conversation he recounted to me, one that he had with an ostensible Bright Young Critical thing who's a big booster for "youth" and also something of a presumptuous highbrow wannabe, at least by my friend's lights (the fellow has some champions; I'm not one). And when the question came up as to why my friend was moving from New York, he said to the Bright Young Thing, "You." And he wasn't entirely kidding. Sounds a little extreme, I know. But I got where my friend was coming from. 

And so it was in this particular state of mind late yesterday afternoon that I got myself ready to attend a party...hosted by a couple of film writers. And to be populated by dozens more. Some of whom have Twitter accounts. What incredible irony, right? And both My Lovely Wife and I had a lovely time. The people were great, the food terrific, the cinematic ambient video amusing (The Big Cube and Mahogany both got play). Yes, my ego was fed—I heard "I'm a big fan!" and "You look great!" more than once. But even without that, I would have concluded that for at least a few hours, the island, at least this particular corner of it, wasn't really at all a bad place to be. And that the no-doubt ultimately Sisyphean efforts engaging against its more questionable traditions was worth waging for such moments of illumination, respite, and pleasure. 

So what can a poor individual do? Lighten up, probably. Fight fire with fire, maybe. Try to have some fun with the whole thing, why not? Get his ass in gear to make the two p.m. press screening of Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore, absolutely. 

There's no guarantee I'll be basking in any such an afterglow at this time next week, though...

Comments

[otherbill]

That SALT review is just astounding. The best part is that he loads it with howlers like "an onscreen career based on frivolous or fatuous treachery" and then dwarfs them all by proposing that we're all gonna recall two lines of dialogue from the second TOMB RAIDER flick.

[LexG]

Steven St. Croix used to be a dead ringer for Dane Cook.

[Evelyn Roak]

There does seem to be a real mob mentality going on these days. Yes, it has always been that way to a degree. Perhaps it is just twitter and the immediacy and casualness of certain corners of the internet world that accentuates these once more dormant elements but it is highlighted none the less. Frankly, it is off putting. Not in a I am not at the party way, but in a lowering of esteem sense. Too many empty proclamations that come across as making sure one is heard regardless of substance or the interest of ideas asserted. The ease of being heard has only heightened its consequence. Of course this has long been the desire of many a writer; nevertheless, acknowledgment seems to be emerging as an end itself.

[The Jake Leg Kid]

Armond White is a contrarian in the same sense that an old man who pisses himself in public because he just doesn't give a shit anymore is a contrarian. While some might regard White as a mere douchebag, albeit a spectacularly flaming example of the species, I'm completely convinced that the man is authentically mentally ill. As such, White's weekly NY PRESS-hosted battles with the voices in his head have become far too depressing to read. Some day I fully expect an outre publisher - Feral House, perhaps? - to collect White's reviews in book form and market them as an outsider art-style chronicle of a lunatic's losing battle with schizophrenia to White's much-hated hipsters.

[John M]

Glenn, I think Hale kinda deserves any and all shit he gets for that review--and it seems to me, you fly off the rails pretty fast when a critic, especially a youngish critic, blasts a movie you love, no? To each his own and all that, but Hale really seems to miss the tone of the movie entirely, almost willfully.

I'm in the tank, happily. I saw it as SXSW, surrounded my films that got much bigger hype (Cold Weather zzzzzz), and was happy to finally see a movie by an actual adult. It is a ragged-looking movie--it's under control visually, but rarely does it pull its own visual ideas off. But the script, performances, and attention to detail are anything but ragged--it's a remarkably, uncannily layered portrait of simmering people. From Hale: "aggressively inconsequential"? Sounds like Truffaut's entire filmography, if you want to see it that way. Calling the film "mumblecore" is, as usual, useless and lazy. Hale's review just reads like a crabby little fart.

And if a bad notice in the Times strikes some as more offensive, it's because it is more offensive. More people read it. More damage is done. Doesn't matter how respected or known Mike Hale is...it's the New York Times, so attention is paid. Meaning: if you write for the Times, at least show up for work.

Anyway, I do hope you check it out. Very worthwhile.

[EOTW]

I'M NOT THERE was my favorite film in the year it was released. Of course, I am a lifelong Dylan fan, so all of the "winks" wer clear to me and it felt like such a vision. Few films have felt like they were speaking directly to me.

[Glenn Kenny]

@ John M.: I will check it out at the first viable opportunity (I tend to avoid pubs these days, gastro or no). Your account of it is one of the more engaging descriptions/defenses of it I've read. As for Hale deserving "any and all shit," I disagree. He may deserve some shit—and your arguments are of a higher caliber than the non-arguments that I cited. But I insist that "Can I have Mike Hale's job? Because he sucks" is utterly lame. And for ostensible professional Karina Longworth to "join in" on the "fun" by re-tweeting it or whatever it's called is just...well, typical of Karina Longworth.

I "fly off the rails pretty fast when a critic, especially a youngish critic" blasts a movie I love? Um, I think I resemble that remark. Not the flying off the rails part—although I do believe I've been holding myself in check in that respect better than I have previously—but the "especially a youngish critic." I don't have anything against youngish critics. I have a problem with stupid, presumptuous, unctuous, know-something-ish pseud critics, is all. If they happen to by "youngish," well, that's just the way the cookie crumbles. (Hell, Armond White is, I believe, at least a few years my senior.) The assertion "If Werner Herzog directed 'American Beauty,' the resulting product might look something like any given Todd Solondz movie" would be just as meaningless and unsupportable had it been written by the 94-year-old Stanley Kauffmann as it is coming from its actual author, the young-and-let-him-tell-you-all-about -the-future-of-film-criticism-and-his-place-in-it Eric Kohn. But then, you see, Stanley Kauffmann did not, and most likely would not, make the assertion. Like I said, that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

[Stephen Whitty]

It's easy (and convenient) for others to paint these as generational clashes, Glenn, but I can't say yours have ever struck me as such.

And for what it's worth -- I haven't seen the film, or the review -- Mike, whom I used to work with (and is actually a good fellow, although that's besides the point of this discussion) is probably in his late 40s these days.

[Stephen Whitty]

@John M

And by "others," I realized as I posted that, I should hasten to add I don't mean YOU.

I mean other writers at other sites who often seem to cast critical feuds as young-vs-old, web-vs-print, unpaid-vs-professional, kids-on-the-lawn-vs-old-man-with-kids-on-his-lawn.

As opposed to this blog, which tends to see the fights as simply people-who-make-their-case-vs.-people-who-don't-make-their-case.

[Tom Russell]

Let me echo Mr. Whitty's sentiments: it does, in the end, come down to case-making, and-- maintaining as I do a rather active presence on twitter-- I've made the acquaintance of a few critics, mostly youngish, who bristle quite a bit when their ability to make their cases are challenged, or when you ask them to support their arguments with, well, arguments. If they do try to make their case, and they're of the Brilliant Contrarian bent, they inevitably obfuscate the matter with the sort of dense impenetrable nonsense babble that you'll find in Armond White's reviews. When that happens, I generally don't further it any farther, as my grandmother is fond of saying.

Sometimes, I think the babble is because there's simply no there there, that they aren't nearly as smart as they think they are, and in those cases our acquaintanceship doesn't last particularly long or go particularly deep, as they really think they are some brilliant new voice, et cetera, and those prone to a certain unpleasant smarminess.

But in other cases, I think they're bluffing: pulling as much impressive-sounding bullpuckey out of their hat and piling it up as high and haphazard as they can in a desperate, teetering bid to sound intelligent. They know-- or at least fear-- that they're not as smart as they seem on the surface. Such folk are desperately afraid of being found out, their intellectual jenga blocks crashing about their heads for all to see. The sad part is, underneath this desperation, there's often a real intelligence at work-- one that might flourish if they weren't trying too hard and if their internal bullshit detector was more finely-calibrated. I know that there are times when I've caught myself trying too hard to sound smart or clever-- being someone who barely graduated from High School, it's safe to say I have a complex about that-- and I've stopped myself before I let my mouth overload my ass; I know there are times when I haven't caught myself, and if that happens in these parts, I hope the good folks here will call me on it.

The people in that second group I feel a certain and not-surprising empathy for, but there's also some hope there, because I think it is actually something that's age-specific, or, at the very least, it's something that's more common in youth and that can be outgrown as one matures-- unlike that first group. The only great thing about that kind of almost crippling self-doubt is that you're never not looking inward, never not questioning or rethinking; that first group, on the other hand, never stops looking at themselves long enough to question their conception of their own brilliance, let alone to stop spewing the vapid bullshit that comes with it-- and yes, looking inside oneself and looking at oneself really are two very different things.

[Russ H]

I also groaned at the arm's length engagement of Hale's review and, like John, found Audrey to be if not an out-and-out great movie, a good movie worthy of specific critique. I found Ross' writing and editing (a reverbing chorus of routine: the sound of a razor, a roommate, an internet date, a volleyball spike) to be sharp and deliberately organized. Outside of a beautifully written and preformed couplet of scenes to end the movie, the individual moments can be slippery and off-putting, though as the film begins to tumble upon itself--revisiting places, characters, and later memories-- you begin to feel the film invading a main character who Hale correctly describes as "dull and closed off," though it's hardly the indictment he intends. It's a sturdy, careful examination.

And, for what it's worth, Brody has just responded via his blog. An interesting sample:

"Mike Hale brings to “Audrey the Trainwreck” a set of prejudices regarding the director Frank V. Ross’s supposed sympathies or lack thereof and, in general, regarding the notion of sympathetic and unsympathetic characters, that has little to do with the artistic merit of a film, but that may be useful to commercial producers; I’d say it reflects a peculiarly Hollywood-centric view of the cinema, except that the best of Hollywood’s filmmakers manage to work their way around such prejudices as well."

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/movies/2010/07/de-gustibus.html#entry-more#ixzz0upWSYgAP

[Glenn Kenny]

@ Russ: One of the many things I like about Richard is that he's ever ready, willing, and absolutely able to rise to critical challenges; to get into the ring, so to speak. His response is interesting and worthwhile; I am a little troubled/confused by his term "prosperous insiders." But I suppose I ought to address these issues in response to Richard himself...

[SJ]

I see Glenn is a fan of Steve Brule.

[Hauser Tann]

"I don't have anything against youngish critics."

So there isn't the slightest tinge of ageism when you use an expression such as Twitterific Kidcrits...?

[brad]

I have also come to believe that Armond White is legitimately mentally ill, at the very least a severe case of borderline personality disorder with associated delusions of grandeur and paranoid tendencies. Saying things like:

"Salt will probably be taken seriously—unlike the credible and poetic historical satire Jonah Hex."

could never possible emanate from a sane mind. It's pure, unadulterated insanity. There is no possible way he can really believe that, and if he thinks he does, he needs medication. It's no longer funny...it is sad and pathetic watching him spiral ever deeper into the depths of narcissistic insanity.

[brad]

oh, and I challenge White to write a review, good or bad, without taking a shot at something he doesn't like. He can't do it. it's all he has. he doesn't review...he trolls. every single review he writes now doesn't tell us a thing about the movie he's supposedly discussing, it's just an excuse to pigeonhole random shots at things other people like that he thinks is stupid and proves every other critic that isn't him is a "shill." what a buffoon.

[Glenn Kenny]

@ Hauser Tann: I believe you mean "Twitterific Kidcritz™."

I also believe that the operative phrase here is "Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."

"Ageism?" Really? You're kidding, right? If not, I wanna get the number of the wambulance you're calling...

[John M]

Glenn, thanks for the reply. I know you don't have it out for young critics, specifically, but the young-vs-old issue does seem to rear its head here from time to time. Understandably, in this climate. Seeing a movie you really respected get passed on with a wave of a hand always feels like a violation, and there's a line between different strokes and hey-asshole-watch-a-little-more-carefully-next-time. The violation feels even sharper when the movie is low-budget and relatively hard to market.

Regarding Twitter, seriously, does anything good come out of that fucking hot mess of cross-currents? I hate reading it--don't want to join in, but can't follow the threads, and most of it's just echoing. I'm sure it's fun and all, but I've yet to see how it enhances the world of film criticism or pop criticism or discussion or morals or....

Since I'm getting all Andy Rooney, I'll say I'm also skeptical of this movie-pub concept, but if it gets people interested--which is a real damn chore these days--I say, fine. But the place sounds a little gimmicky--car seats? I'd still love to see an Alamo Draft House style house in NYC.

And yeah, I overstated the shit-taking that Hale deserves. After all, he appears to have been working under some pretty major space limitations. There just seemed to be so much shorthand there--no attempt to engage with the film whatsoever. As I said, I'm bunching the bedsheets up to my chest, cuz I feel violated.

[Glenn Kenny]

@ John M.: Well, as you see, there can tend to be some misunderstanding, with respect to this issue, as to whether I'm being jocular or not. Obviously (or at least I thought), "Twitterific Kidcritz™" was a joke. But also obviously it had something to do with the real world, the way that younger critics (or film reviewers) were quicker to embrace the cited format. Of course Ebert's made them all look like pikers since then. If I seem sensitive to the idea that I dislike younger film critics, it's because I feel that when I could, back in the day, I did a lot to encourage them, that is, I gave more than a couple some paying work. I think Christopher Kelly, Peter Debruge would tell you that. Even Aaron Hillis, with whom I do not currently enjoy the rosiest of relations, might allow that that was the case.

What does get up my nose, and was the source of more than one verbal scuffle with Nathan Lee, is the notion that youth is a positive value in and of itself for a critic, and the implication that older critics need to get out of the way to make room for younger ones. "And do what?" is one obvious question this brings up. I should like to stick around long enough to see some of those who've agitated in that direction reach a Certain Age themselves, and poll them about their feelings at that point. I wonder if they'll have the courage of their feisty, righteous convictions.

And of course there are, I admit, quite a few folks I'd like to see JUST LEAVE. But that's another story, and one that is probably no use to tell...

[John M]

"...the notion that youth is a positive value in and of itself for a critic, and the implication that older critics need to get out of the way to make room for younger ones..."

A young critic's way of rationalizing his/her own careerist impulses, is what that sounds like. Age, and the wisdom that comes along with it--what could be more crucial to a rounded discussion of the arts? Unfortunately, only some critics--Hoberman, Ebert (mostly), Brody, yourself, a few others--remember or even care to sharpen their tools with any kind of regularity. So "old critic" comes to equal "Rex Reed."

Who really needs to be euthanized, professionally. Really, that guy's an angry, horrible fuckhead, who still, at the age of 126, has no idea how to read a film.

[Evelyn Roak]

It is unfortunate that in defending the intimation of veering towards building a straw man Richard Brody decides the best defense is to jump in whole-hog in said straw man construction . He goes back to the well of his Cyrus defense, the broadly painted caricatures of those who appreciate classical Hollywood and the opposing critics capable of breaking from these oppressive strictures to see the “simplicity, vulnerability, directness, and immediacy” of films like Cyrus (the odd implication that a Hollywood film can‘t do such a thing. Does he not see these qualities in his praise of Funny People? An assessment I agree with, by the way). Simply, if either of these critics exist, and that is a large if, they are hardly worth ones time. He has constructed two broad characterizations and set up a 12 round main event, between two imaginary fighters, where there need not be one. It comes across as projecting upon the disagreeing critic an ideology that they don’t subscribe to for the sake of having a larger target. Frankly, it seems disingenuous and Ray Carney-esque. There is always the off chance that they may in good faith dislike a movie you liked. Crime of all crimes.

(I have posted this comment, slightly adjusted at Richard Brody's New Yorker blog)

[haice]

Who would have thought the day would come when amusing crap like HANNIE CAULDER would be referred to be a "lost treasure"in a DVD review in a major entertainment magazine?

[Glenn Kenny]

Well, you know, they really don't make 'em like they used to...

[Andrew Wyatt]

Glenn:

Don't despair. Your voice is needed more than ever in Times Like These. We here in the hinterlands of Flyover Country need your erudition and your low tolerance for bullshit. Hell, if I was King of the World, I'd pay you a generous stipend (plus a new plasma screen!) just to bang out two to three posts a day on whatever the hell tickles your fancy. You know, after I cured cancer and all that.

[jim emerson]

Glenn, you settled the issue definitively long ago when you wrote:

"Here's a challenge. Tell me what this sentence, from White's review of the new version of "The Taking of Pelham 123," means: "Audiences who enjoyed the original 1974 'Pelham 123' took its grungy dangerousness as a realistic confirmation of their own citizens' distrust." Now here's the rub: I don't want to know what you think it means, what you infer it means when you put it through your own personal White decoder ring, no; I want to know what the words in the sentence as they are actually written actually mean. As, you know, an actual copy editor would understand them. Because an actual copy editor would tell you that the sentence is gibberish...."

That's it. AW ceases to exist. There's nothing more to say. That paragraph still gives me great joy, because it does to what's-his-name what Martin Short's portrayal of Howie Mandel in SCTV's "Maudlin of the Night" did to HM. It makes him irrelevant. That AW could continue to perform in public makes him all the more pathetic. You have said what needed to be said -- and all that needed to be said -- about AW.

[LexG]

Maybe we'd get some COOL NEW CRITICS if someone would hire ME.

I don't know what the fuck it takes. I got Poland and Wells in my corner, both HUGE fans and promoters of my writing, Poland tried giving me a column, Wells offered to help me, I got like 60-80 film critics at any time following me on Twitter... How the fuck do you guys get PAID for this shit ever though?

I want to GET PAID TO WATCH MOVIES, but it's got to be more than I'm making at my day job, so I can't do it full time for UNDER 70K, but it's important to me to become a writer for a brief period of time so I don't have to go to a DAY JOB anymore.

My day job is TRANSCRIBING MOVIES, which SUCKS DICK because stupid studios send their movies out for DVD prep like the week they come out or BEFORE, so every weekend I wanna see 4 movies but it's a mad dash to see them before I have to WORK ON THEM, piecemeal and out of order and in black and white, at my shitty post job.

If I could just be a full time critic, I'd see the movies for free, wouldn't work a dumb day job, and would have ALL DAY to focus on my acting career, because I WANT TO BE FAMOUS and writing is BORING AS FUCK and don't you guys all kinda just secretly wish you were Leo or Joseph Gordon-Levitt instead of just WRITING ABOUT THEM?

Either that or I need to sell a book of my rants, but I need a WINDFALL of like 75-100k so I can quit my transcription job and audition for REALITY SHOWS.

FAME IS GOD.

[LexG]

And I'm-a keep going, because it's on topic and I DON'T CARE:

You will NEVER convince me that a whole lot of you dudes are possessed of some writing genius that I can't muster. I got dudes on HE begging me to write a book, I got POLAND, I got WELLS, sterling endorsements from DOZENS of other guys... Yet I'm saddling subtitling porn and transcribing the 2014 TNT cut of Next Month's Blockbuster like THIS WEEK, because you gotta do that shit NOW and destroy the fuck out of the movie for the posthouse sadsacks who MIGHT have wanted to see it. Yeah, tell me why a December release has to have the DVD completed in FUCKING AUGUST, and I'll be eternally grateful.

But: I like ALL these dudes, so I'm only talking harmless smack, but you really gonna tell me Devin Faraci is some Hemingway-esque genius that he shouldn't be closed-captioning soap operas? Or Gilchrist, or JEN YAMATO, who seems like a sweetheart but is just some TWOP-y Twi-Hard, not exactly Sarris-level, or Kris Tapley, again, nice guy, but I REFUSE to believe any of them OR Poland, or, fuck, even Glenn is some EXALTED WARRIOR-POET, but there's no room for my GENIUS Gonzo film critic style and distinctive, well-liked prose.

And yet any time I try to parlay it, nobody really gives a shit and I get like 6 views so it's easier just to post on someone else's blog. HOW CAN I GET A LEGIT, 75K CRITIC GIG? I deserve it more than ANYONE IN AMERICA, I am a better writer than Ken Turan, better writer than Armond, better writer than AO Scott, better writer than Dargis.

I am a FUCKING GENIUS, and it is a NATIONAL DISGRACE that I'm stuck TAKING DICTATION for a living, when all you dicks get to go to JUNKETS and meet Dakota Fanning, when I'm funnier than ANYONE ON THE PLANET.

GET ME A JOB.

[Glenn Kenny]

@ LexG: Wow. Looks like you picked the wrong week/month/year/decade to aspire to be a paid film critic.

Relative quality of your prose aside, have you not noticed how things are working nowadays? Even the folks in relatively secure positions aren't feeling all that secure. And THEY aren't going to give up those positions until you pry them from their cold, dead hands. And once their hands are cold/dead, you think the corporate masters are going to be in a hurry to hire replacements at the same pay scale? No, I think not, baby puppy.

Seriously—La Longworth hasn't even been at her print job for a year, and already I see the chronic (albeit selective) over-sharer is whinging about how she'll never be able to pay back her student loans, boo-fricking hoo. And the LA Weekly position was considered a CHERRY GIG. Think about it.

[DUH]

@ LexG: I know you want to sound GONZO, but instead you sound like a character from _Miss Lonelyhearts_ if it was by Diablo Cody and ran serialized in Entertainment Weekly. I do not mean that as a compliment.

[bgn]

@ LexG: if you really really want to be a paid film critic for a major media source, my advice for you would be to get off the film criticism kick and become a political pundit. Once you become famous as a political pundit, you can write about anything you want on a regular basis--even film. Hey, it worked for John Podhoretz, Ross Douthat & Steve Sailer; why shouldn't it work for you?