In recent years, it’s become increasingly apparent that the opinions of everyday audiences and established film and television critics are growing increasingly further apart. Cursory glances at review sites like Rotten Tomatoes list several films in which the audience score and the critics’ score have a gap of over 20% between them. Divisive responses to films like The Last Jedi, for example, drew almost a 50% divide between the audience score and the critics’ score, with critics lauding the film with a 91% fresh review, and audiences bemoaning their experience with a dismal 42%. Who’s right? Is one opinion more valid than the other?
But, what’s going on under the surface of this phenomenon? Why have audiences’ tastes and critics’ tastes grown so far apart when it comes to film and television? In exploring this cultural phenomenon, there are a few key elements worth exploring as it pertains to the growing rift between established cultural critique and amateur film and television review. Divergence between ratings are often the difference between the objective assessment of the artistic merits and subjective tastes.
“HOT” TAKES
Due to the rise and easy access of social media, it’s extremely simple for anyone to share their thoughts or opinions on a piece of media. When the audience’s responses are positive, these “shares” can even prove valuable to media conglomerates, streamers, studios, and networks looking to build their support base.
As these entities are (more often than not) governed by executives who are primarily fixated on monetary concerns, so too has social media engagement proven itself just as valuable as a high Nielsen rating. Thus, studios and networks tend to encourage their audience to take to social media to share their thoughts, reactions, or even full-fledged reviews in the hopes of amplifying their opinions and increase viewership.
Photo by Brian Jiz
That said, encouraging this type of engagement also drives viewers to share negative reviews, long-form critiques, or even video essays decrying a piece of media they find ill-conceived or even offensive. And, unlike positive reviews, which serve as advertising for the film or series, negative criticism works the opposite way. Negative criticism, particularly when framed in either a comedic or an intentionally hyperbolic manner, is not only (of course) bad for the media being critiqued, but in turn, directs traffic and attention to the writer of the criticism, not just the media.
There are, of course, many essayists, vloggers, and other critics present on social media who do excellent work when it comes to reviews. However, more often than not, social media’s engine prefers to reward snappy, negative, and more hyperbolic criticism with clout. This, in turn, encourages any audience member, or perhaps even an aspiring filmmaker seeking a platform, to take to social media platforms with their negative critique as a method of self-promotion. The more hyperbolic (or, as some would say, “hot”) their take is, the better.
The Established Veteran
Conversely, consider a veteran critic like the late Roger Ebert. Ebert’s career began in 1967 as a writer for the Chicago Sun-Times, wherein he slowly earned dedicated followers and respected peer admiration from other critics like Pauline Kael. By the time Ebert won the Pulitzer Prize for criticism in 1975, his specific voice and mantra as a film critic had earned him a level of respectability that made his opinion not only valuable, but unmired by trends. Most importantly, Ebert was also known for being generally more favorable in his reviews than his peers, often critiquing a movie through the lens of its intended audience, not just his opinion.
Comparing the career of Ebert, who earned his reputation through a base level of objectivity and long-garnered ethos, to the work of self-platformed reviewers reveals a very specific rift in approach between established cultural critics and audience reviewers: namely, how each earns attention and respect. Whereas a critic like Ebert earned attention and recognition through a long and consistent career, self-published reviewers earn those same things through snappiness, cynicism, negativity, and most of all, trendiness. What separates reviews posted to social media or other platforms even more from established criticism like Ebert’s is its reliance on trends, being “of the moment,” and landing a well-timed “hot” take that’s sure to garner attention, either for being undeniably correct or delightfully contrarian?
What’s unfortunate is that, perhaps unwittingly, many self-published or self-platformed critics suffer under this rule as well. Because their platform necessitates driving their own engagement, any analysis or critique of a film has to be run through the filtering question, “How will this draw eyeballs?” Answering this question typically leads to generating clickbait or the aforementioned “hot take,” and can even encourage a poster or reviewer to share a purposefully contrarian take designed purely for the purpose of driving engagement. Agreeing with their own contrarian take isn’t even a requirement for the reviewer in many cases, so long as the engagement is high. Social media algorithms don’t have opinions. They measure traffic.
Between the ease of social media, the benefits of using a personal review platform for the purpose of self-promotion, and the power of trendiness, it’s easy to see why audience reviewers’ opinions have grown farther apart from those of established critics. These two different types of criticism benefit from entirely different methodologies. Established critics benefit from developing a long-standing, ethos-driven perspective, whereas audience reviews and other self-platformed critics benefit from driving engagement, good or bad, and thus rely on hyperbole and trendiness.
Unfortunately, this methodology has also led to a decrease not just in overall media literacy, but a misunderstanding regarding the art of critique. While many reviewers prevalent on social media spend dedicated time developing a thoughtful, albeit “hot” take, many other reviewers skip over this step, and instead rely on a path of least resistance in conceiving their negative, trendy review. This has led to a spike in what many call “bad faith criticism.”
Bad Faith Criticism
To use the broadest possible definition, bad faith criticism is a critique or review that seeks to purposefully poke holes in or tear down a creative work, or otherwise highlight flaws in a piece of media for sport. For clarity, the YouTube channel CinemaSins (though meant purely for comedic purposes) is a great example of bad faith criticism. Its goal is to address flaws, inconsistencies, continuity errors, or logistical concerns in a film’s plot regardless of any other artistic merits.
In many ways, this type of criticism is entirely antithetical to a critic like Ebert’s methodology, who chose to critique movies based on their intention and desired audience. Thus, in turn, bad faith criticism is perfect for reviewers who exist outside of traditional media outlets. Bad faith criticism is not only the easiest way to create hyperbole but also the fastest way to generate easily digestible negative criticism that is both fun to read and drives engagement. And yet, it is not real criticism and not real cultural commentary. Instead, it is self-promotion that masquerades as critique.
The greatest example of bad faith criticism, as well as the greatest example of how powerful and influential this type of criticism can be, has to do with the movie Titanic. Over the years, countless critics, reviewers, and fans alike have dissected, experimented, and torn apart the logistics of the movie’s climax. The climax, in which Jack (Leonardo DiCaprio) realizes he cannot fit on the floating door with Rose (Kate Winslet), and thus cannot save himself from the threat of hypothermia after the ship’s sinking has long been the subject of ire and ridicule. Fans and critics alike decry this scene over and over again, insisting that there must have been some logistical way for Jack to also fit on the door (thus saving his life in the process), despite the fact that the film has clear dialogue and action that says otherwise.
This is bad faith criticism at its core – a willful misinterpretation of a scene based on a logistical concern that not only is addressed directly in the film, but is also irrelevant to the overall themes and ideas explored in the story. Why does it matter if Jack perhaps could have fit on the door? The film has told us he can’t, and in doing so, explores complex themes regarding the nature of sacrifice and the desire to honor that sacrifice by living a full life. And yet, this criticism of the climax of Titanic has remained so influential, that it is still regurgitated by self-platformed critics and reviewers today.
If this gap between audience reviews and established critics is ever to be bridged, it has to start with the dissolution of bad faith criticism. At its core, bad faith criticism is not real critique, but rather, a form of entertainment all its own. The issue that drives this rift between audience opinion and established critical opinion has less to do with platform, background, and education, and more to do with the art of critique, and its transformation into more of a form of self-promotion and entertainment all its own, and not just a journalistic endeavor. And, what’s worse is that, as long as bad faith criticism like the critique of Titanic’s climax remains prevalent and powerful, we’ll lose out on not only the art form of critique, but a shared media literacy we can all agree on.
