Editor's Note.

By Mark Peranson

The periodic debate as to whether critics can make a difference has unfortunately surfaced yet again in the US, this time in an atmosphere where certain older critics are being replaced, alternative weekly film sections are being gutted, and movie-going seems to be headed the way of vaudeville. (In Canada, this debate has passed us by, as we are clearly realists on this account: Canadian film critics have no influence whatsoever on anything.) This debate of course is about whether or not reviews influence box office, either in terms of big blockbusters, or smaller art house releases, and while the latter seems more plausible to me than the former—especially, say, if a major daily decides to actually give as extensive coverage to the latest Hou Hsiao-hsien film as they do to Mission Impossible 3. As they won’t, I’d like to set that aside for a second and, instead, talk about mind control.

Critics exert power, for sure, but mainly in terms of perception. The critic/reader relationship is psychological: you read a review, glimpse a headline, overhear a conversation in a bar, and you’re prejudiced. It really didn’t bother me that the two films I happened to find the most interesting at Cannes—Colossal Youth and Southland Tales—were the lowest in the polls in respected places like Screen Daily and Le Film Français; today, this fact can be considered a validation of views that are uncompromised. But what does bug me is that while at Cannes I received emails from dutiful citizens on the homefront telling me they’ve “heard awful things” about such and such a film, meaning they read a blog entry from some guy who they’ve never met, or happened upon a dunderheaded, “objectively written” Variety review… either way, the prejudice has already started to operate.

Don’t think this view only applies to readers, either. Critics are just as biased: coming into a film blind may not be impossible, but it’s kind of pointless if you’re trying to do your job properly, that is, provide guidance that will help future viewers understand the work in question. Consequently, I have no problem with critics going into screenings with “past knowledge,” i.e., having heard something from someone else about how pointless and boring a director’s work is, then walking out after 30 minutes. As I’ll detail later, I often didn’t even bother with the 30 minutes: if you’re not with the program, get off the bus. But just admit your biases, please. Critics and readers have a few things in common, and this is probably the most significant: we’re all wading in a kiddie pool of prejudice. The only difference is some are wearing flippers. I sometimes feel that the best that I can do is to provide a different kind of prejudice, whether it’s for Pedro Costa, Richard Linklater, or whomever merits it on any given Friday. So I hope you’ll join me in casting off those flippers for another 80 pages.

P.S. For American readers, I should note that as of this issue you can find Cinema Scope at most Barnes and Noble locations across your fair country, so it should be easier for you to find. I do hope that you’ll seek it out and consider subscribing: consider it a vote for Pedro.

—Mark Peranson

Southland Tales