It’s ‘Film Thursday!’, and today’s entry pompously considers what makes a film ‘good’; and particularly how we might appraise it from a linguistic perspective. Is the quality of a film merely a matter of subjective taste, or are there characteristics of cinema which can reliably suggest its merits? I might not actually answer these questions, but read this stuff anyway and I’ll throw in a rude joke for good measure.
Cinema is a young medium, and as such has only relatively recently been regarded for serious scrutiny by specialist academics. At school, we learn about plays and novels, and are taught how to read them and (hopefully) understand them. Yet film remains the bastard child of paintings and novels; a young upstart misunderstood, under-acknowledged and unlearned. For this reason, most people consume cinema in a state of ignorance, and terrible – objectively terrible – features regularly score high box office takings, while some of the finest works conceived struggle to get distributed or even made. For anyone who enjoys cinema, this is a dreadful state of affairs. Yet film-makers, studios and distributors (who put films in your local cinema) can only take so much of the blame. Ultimately, what ends up in the theatre is what people are willing to pay for; and with a population of the cinematically illiterate, one typically gets presented with a lowest common denominator, a third-grade Spot the Dog book, a pants-on-the-head-wearing dribbling retard of a film that is as intellectually and emotionally nutritious as a Turkey Twizzler. The upshot of this is we all get Brain-AIDS and die. And it’s your fault. Do you really want that?
Sure, alright, maybe you like your monthly shot of Penis Deficiency IV and Amusing Potty Accident: The Revenge. The most preposterously snobbish cinephile would be pushed to defend a notion that simple, digestible films don’t have their place. I know intelligent people who enjoy Hollyoaks. Honest. We all like a bit of popcorn; but what happens when we are forced to live off popcorn for the rest of our days; when there are no more roast dinners, no more tiramisus, or spaghetti bolongesies-(er)-es? Brain-AIDS is just the start. We’re on a one-way flight to brain-eating zombie country, and there’s no fuel. And you have Brain-AIDS. And are ugly. Reading Meg and Mog was fine when you were eight; but no one can credibly deny that the Shakespeares, Michelangelos and, for that matter, Kubricks of this world aren’t for-the-love-of-your-fictitious-gods more rewarding, socially constructive and enduringly enjoyable – once you learn -how- to appreciate them.
Really, that’s my point. Cinema is a form of literature; it exists as a medium of communication. It speaks through not only the spoken word, actions and activities, but an entire plethora of conventions, metaphors, symbols and codes. It uses a complicated language, and smart films need literate people to get the most out of them. That’s why if you can read Eyes Wide Shut you will be granted insights into society, sexuality and indeed your own humanity. AND it has tits in. Really. Tits, everywhere. If you can’t, it’s just a long dull movie (with a lot of tits in).
So, honestly. There are good films, and there are bad films; but what makes them truly ‘good’ or ‘bad’ is not particularly a matter of taste. Taste varies; and not everyone (however smart) gets off on Macbeth. (I freaking loathe Macbeth, and his mother. And his mother’s face.) Enjoying a film is not equal to its quality. Films a more rightly judged on their intelligence, their emotiveness, their capacity to observe and comment upon life, their insight, their originality (which at best pioneers human understanding) – and so on – but they all dependant on a sophisticated use of the language of film. And the amount of nakedness in them, obviously.
Therefore to really get the most out of cinema, to appreciate it fully, and to respectably appraise it, one needs to be cinematically literate. To prevent Brain-AIDS you do not need to wear a condom. You don’t even have to ‘study’ cinema. All you have to do is this: Pay to see a diverse range of films. Try stuff that might seem a little obscure or challenging. You’ll get the hang of it. And if you see a movie with Eddie Murphey in it, take it out back and insert a grenade into its bottom. You’ll be well rewarded for your cooperation.
I’m sorry, I lied about the rude joke. My bad.