“Where Michael Bay has mastered a kind of sensory-assaulting pop art, Favreau is a born storyteller, who engages the audience’s imaginations rather than crushing them in a tsunami of digital noise.” – Scott Foundas, LA Weekly

Without having seen Iron Man, I can’t agree or disagree with Foundas’s assessment of Favreau’s storytelling abilities (I also haven’t seen Favreau’s previous forays into directing, which he praises), and I’m not highlighting this little bit because he’s taken some kind of oppositional, principled outré stand—reviews thus far have been largely positive.

However, this brief comment—“Favreau is a born storyteller”—somehow got my mind racing about the triangular relationship between critics, audiences, and distributors. If this film were, say, the new work from an acclaimed young Romanian filmmaker, I could imagine Foundas’s quote plastered at the top of ads from coast-to-coast—he’s a legitimate critic, for my money one of the few truly thoughtful writers left amongst the rotating stable his syndicate employs, though whether or not readers are attuned to his specific voice, or just his attribution is an open question.

Does Iron Man need a Scott Foundas quote or review to succeed? Surely not. And given that the big movie machine works as hard as possible to erase the individual effects of non-brand directors (i.e. Spielberg) from their films, surely not if that quote attests to the director’s storytelling abilities instead of the special effects work or thrill-ride escapades. But yet here it is, snuck lightly into the last paragraph of a fine, well-considered piece of writing—it’s pretty much sold me on a ticket, but not that the studio really needs me either. Does the studio need any reviews at all to make this thing succeed? Probably not to cross the threshold into profits via ancillaries, but a gaggle of good reviews for big movies still holds sway, I think, for a certain group of folks who generally worry about leaving these sort of films assaulted and insulted (i.e. Michael Bay). Foundas's writing for them, for me—certainly not for the studio here.

Before Foundas was syndicated locally, the only chance I had to read him was via the internet. There’s been a lot of typing expended on the effects of the www.world on the critical voice and it seems like there’s a general lack of consensus out there, aside from inside the thick skull of Armond White, who seems to view all us blog philistines as the imminent death of film culture. But is it possible that the movement of film criticism away from print might allow readers a more intimate connection with their cultural critics, one that I’d say has been largely severed over the last twenty or so odd years of media consolidation and saturation? Can we now seek out and find those voices like Foundas (or, modestly, Reverse Shot, for that matter) that speak to us? And what do we lose in terms of geographic specificity—that great hometown critic who knows his or her audience because they have been sprung from them? The age of the monolithic critical voice may have already closed—critics can still make and break certain films at the box office, but is that a role they necessarily should have or aspire to? Being able to influence readers is important, but what of dominating them?

We haven’t really taken a detailed plunge into this question at Reverse Shot yet, and this certainly isn’t it—we’re more concerned with diagnosing the changes in the medium at present. But I think we’ll get there. In the meantime, thanks to Scott Foundas for his review.

“While the film’s got many laughs – and, beware, full-frontal male nudity! – the finale’s a letdown.”

This comes to us from Thelma Adams, longtime US Weekly critic, on the latest addition to the Apatow family, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which opens Friday. Am I the only one who finds it a little odd to find a warning about a penis shot occupying any space at all in a capsule review lasting about 80 words (7.5% of the review for those counting)? The cautionary note seems especially strange coming from a publication that self-describes as offering “Celebrity news, gossip, and photos, information on fashion and beauty”—what’s better and more worthy of chitchat than a celeb’s unhinged dong writ large on the big screen? Our MPAA may be puritanical, but I think audiences are generally less afraid, especially when genitalia is played for a laugh (see: Ben Stiller’s contorted balls in There’s Something About Mary, or Malin Akerman’s untamed, pierced bush in The Heartbreak Kid).

Still, a critic looking at a collection of films that, as a whole, is terribly, terribly afraid of all those icky, floppy, weird parts we all carry around in our crotches (the “money” shot of Knocked Up was a horrible reminder of the ills that stem from boy bits touching girl bits) might find a stray dick worthy of some notice. I’m not sure whose wiener Forgetting Sarah Marshall will treat us to, but I’d expect to see Jason Segal hastily exiting an uncomfortable situation in the buff before the movie’s finished. (please not Jonah Hil….please not Jonah Hill….)

Not that the film's insistent ubiquitous marketing campaign is going to leave any potential audience member unsnared anway, but Thelma, even though you’ve phrased it as a warning, I think we all know that your clever insertion of an oh-so-subtly phallic exclamation point suggests you want your readers to be aware (rrr...) rather than beware.

So, we hear there's some other New York-based film festival kicking off shortly but who needs 'em with Reverse Shot Presents at Makor running 4/22-30?

Especially given that we're bringing in this man:

tomorrow night to discuss his work in The Devil's Rejects, Dawn of the Dead, and many other horror classics.

Also, Phil Morrison of Junebug (RS Top Ten 2005) fame stops in on Tuesday 4/25 to chat about his feature debut and Kent Jones will grace us with his presence on 4/27 to provide introductory notes to Claire Denis's awesome L'Intrus (also RS Top Ten 2005). 4/30 sees the first New York screening of the acclaimed epic documentary A Lion in the House, and we're showing Hou Hsiao-hsien, Rodrigo Garcia, Neil Jordan--what more does one need?

For the full schedule and tickets click here.

There's big, exciting stuff afoot at Reverse Shot, and this series is just the tip of the iceberg, so please stay tuned...

In typical fashion, White skewers von Trier's latest (which I haven't seen yet) culminating in this lance straight to the heart:

"Malick’s distorted American history also contrasts Terrence Malick’s beneficent The New World, perverting Malick’s artsiness and grace."

You may think there's a typo in there, but keep reading until it makes sense.

From my favorite working critic, NY1's Neil Rosen.

"...But the pacing is at times slow, it's a bit predictable, there is a lot of preaching going on here, and director Fernando Meirelles, who also made the acclaimed "City of God," seems more concerned at times with imparting a moral message than he is in making an entertaining thriller."

Neil Rosen's Big Apple Rating: Three apples

Thank you, Neil. Thank you for reminding us that an entertaining thriller need not bog itself down with moral message. Ok, people? Are you listening? Let's keep politics in the senate and good clean mindless frivolity in theaters. Giving Gardener three apples, to boot!?!? That only shows what a fine and generous soul you are when faced with sub-par filmmakers who are obviously just trying too hard (why not throw in a mercy half-apple here and there?). I mean, you only gave D.E.B.S. two and a half apples:

"...the movie has clever moments and overall it does manage to be funny and endearing. Now some people may find the film idiotic. But that's basically the whole point here. It's campy, silly fun and if you look at it on that level there is a good time to be had.

It's also real easy on the eyes to have four sexy school girls, who in reality are in their twenties, running around in plaid mini skirts fighting crime. And I do think, among other things, that was one of the clear intentions of the filmmakers. "

Re-reading your insightful comments here is both galvanizing (as an aspiring critic) and tough to swallow; I mean, Neil, when you can watch four sexy school girls fighting crime, why on earth would you sit through something like The Constant Gardener? There's not even that much gardening! I'm going to have to reverse-criticize your criticism on this one: I'd take that half-apple from Gardener and feed it to those hot little mama's from D.E.B.S.

But that's why I love your work, Mr. Rosen, you get me thinking. And sometimes, you get me thinking in terms of apples. And at the end of the day, this New Yorker wants it laid out straight: just tell me how many apples, and I'll go bobbing.

Just a little friendly mono e mono between critics, buddy. You'll always have four big apples in my mind.

p.s. Your pronunciation of Meirelles? Priceless. Fernando Mary-Ellis himself would appreciate that.

From his rave review of Pretty Persuasion, a turn of phrase that could come from no one but the NY Times' own SH:

"Watching Pretty Persuasion is like passing through a sudden, violent thunderstorm; behind it, the air is fragrant, and the visibility extends to the horizon. Think of the movie as a clearing shower."

Uh...right. And people complain that Reverse Shotters are obtuse.

This is a real gem from Manohla Dargis's Cannes diary:

"I'm leery of writing more because I don't think the film has distribution and I don't feel comfortable bringing the weight of this paper into the mix at this point."

She's talking about Atom Egoyan's new film Where the Truth Lies (notes from the press conference can be found here) with Kevin Bacon, Colin Firth, and Alison Lohman.

Manohla, please stop. If you're worried about distribution deals and throwing the NY Times' influence around, then I guess you guys will have to start steadfastly refusing to review those films in the New York Film Festival and New Directors/New Films that arrive without a theatrical release plan. And you should probably end the stupid Cannes diary and pack it up, because I hear that lots of films come to the croisette unsold every year.

Or, you could try being a film critic, show that you give a fuck about the medium that supports you and tell people what you really think instead of pulling punches. As much as I believe the "review digest" sites like Rottentomatoes and Metacritic are starting to dilute the 10-tons of influence you're worried about tossing in the ring, you do still, sadly, write for the most important source for opinion on art films in the country. Use that power for good, not evil. You already called the film "interesting" and praised one of the lead performers two sentences earlier so the cat's pretty much out of the bag anyway.

"Bujalski's debut invites easy comparisons to Slacker, Metropolitan, Kicking and Screaming and other movies about white, middle-class, self-aware-yet-clueless twentysomethings. But the humor cuts deeper than those movies�and accumulates more emotional force" - Matt Zoller Seitz, NY Press