One Critic’s Trash May Be Another’s Treasure

Arguing good taste is difficult, agendas less so. In his column deriding the New York and Boston film critics for naming “Mulholland Dr.” the best picture of the year (“One Man’s TV Reject Is Another’s Top Film,” Dec. 19), Brian Lowry shows his hand in several places:

“The same impulse [to name “Mulholland Dr.” best film] tends to yield year-end ’10 best’ lists consisting of films that aggregately took in less at the box office than ‘Pearl Harbor’ did on its opening night” ....

“Just as television critics are often drawn to shows that don’t thrive commercially”....

“‘Mulholland Dr.’ has grossed just $5.4 million at the box office thus far.”

None of this is in any way relevant, of course, to the recognition of movies by the above-named critics, but it shows how difficult it is to produce good criticism--to say nothing of good movies--when those doing the work can’t, or can’t be bothered, to differentiate between art and commerce.

Putting aside for a moment the many fine, and occasionally infuriating, qualities of David Lynch’s movie, let’s look at who votes on awards and why. Critics amalgamations may be a kind of oxymoron, consisting as they do of people whose individuality and independence are supposed to be their stock in trade, but their purpose is not to reward profitability. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, made up of people whose livelihood depends on movies making money, consistently rewards work each year that doesn’t even make the critics’ runner-up lists. Sometimes the two factions interact; oftentimes, enough awards from critics will push an otherwise unlikely film into the Oscar pool, as happened last year with “You Can Count on Me.”

But why are the critics’ and Hollywood prizes so often polarized? Because their criteria are almost entirely different.

Lowry, betraying a company-town mentality, would have you believe that critics vote for problematic movies such as “Mulholland Dr.” simply because they experience a positive knee-jerk when they see something new. It’s refreshing to see a film that hasn’t been punched out of the usual cookie-cutter of producers’ meetings, writers’ conferences and test screenings. But Lowry shows a profound cluelessness about American criticism, maybe even journalism: If they wanted to be popular, the members of the New York Film Critics Circle would operate like a Little League team and give trophies to everybody. Naming “Mulholland Dr.” as your best film, or one of your top 10, isn’t a career move. Naming “Pearl Harbor” might be--both for perversity’s sake and for meeting Lowry’s standard of excellence.

And what about “Mulholland Dr.”? The fact is that what David Lynch has consistently demonstrated is that he isn’t a narrative filmmaker. He often uses the conventions of narrative against themselves, creating atmosphere, tension, dread and a sense of a strange new world as does nobody else. Storytelling, however, isn’t his forte. Pure filmmaking is, either when he’s unsuccessful (as in, for instance, “Fire Walk With Me”) or turning out a provocative piece of work such as “Mulholland Dr.”

The critics’ choice of Lynch’s film, Lowry writes, “reflects the ultimate example of intellectual hubris--the assumption if you don’t understand it, it must be brilliant.” At the risk of using a meat mallet on an oyster, Lowry should understand that not all film art fits the content requirements of a prime-time television show. Or that, just because he doesn’t understand it, a movie isn’t necessarily bad.

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John Anderson is the chairman of the New York Film Critics Circle and chief film critic for Newsday, a Tribune company.