The longer I write criticism the less use I have for making judgments. I don’t mean I’m against declaring something good or bad. And I’m certainly not endorsing the idea that a critic has to consider all the work that’s gone into making a movie or writing a book ,et al. They don’t. Audiences don’t experience an artist’s hard work, they experience what an artist has produced, and I don’t think they’re obliged to consider any more than that.
What I‘m against is the idea that deciding what’s good or bad is the most important thing a critic does. Or classifying what category a work fits into. I’m approaching forty years as a critic. If I had only gotten more polished at making the kind of judgments I did when I started out—when I was more impertinent than I was smart—then I hope I would have had the good sense to hang it up long ago.
A good critic shouldn’t ignore the flaws in something that moves them or overwhelms them or gets under their skin. But in the face of a sincere emotional reaction there’s something deeply wearisome about the “Well, the third act is a letdown” or “The book never quite comes together” approach. Even if the third act is a letdown, even if the book never does come together. That manner of fussy little reservation isn’t a way of analyzing experience or effect but a means of rationalizing them away. In essence, it’s taking inventory. Judgment takes you so far, and a lot of the time it can be made from a safe distance.
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