Everyone’s A Critic week 6: something!

Monday we spoke about curationism: the role of the curator in popular culture. The weirdest part about reading the articles was that the name “Hans-Ulrich Obrist” stood out to me as if I’d heard its Swiss enunciation before – and as a matter of fact I had. Turns out I follow the bloke on Instagram (@hansulrichobrist), and have for many years, one of those random follows back in the early Insta days that I have come oddly sentimental about unfollowing (through my many unfollowing sprees – hey I’m a curator too!). Every now and then I scroll past one of his photos in my feed and wonder who the hell this guy with the frameless glasses that posts seemingly random works of art is, before scrolling through his profile and accepting once again that whatever he posts is cool, and he can’t be cut this time. Passive curation. I think that curationism is important in contemporary society given the endless blasts of content that we are subject to nowadays. Plugging into the feeds you find important or funny or engaging or interesting (whether you agree or disagree with whatever they’re posting about this time) is really the only way to comprehend the noise that is coming, and never stops coming. Like tuning a radio or something.

 

Wednesday was an engaging change, and while not as confident in my ability as last week, being given an activity and having to report back to the class at large is a sure fire way to get the brain cogs oiled up, even if not enough to throw me straight into writing mode. Master of None + time: a genuinely interesting writing concept if not too on the nose or easy to strain a piece around. I can see myself putting words to paper in the future on something to do with this – in relation to a) Netflix? (binge-watching, notion of time across episodes/seasons), b) relationships central to the show (season 1 and/or season 2), or c) something else (leave ideas in comments ty).

This blog post is technically late (post-episode 16) but the Twin Peaks x class postponement thread is still alive and well. Pls Alexia I crave the unhealthy validation of being first to watch or listen to something……………..

Everyone’s A Critic week 5: zooweemama!

MIFF final week — final results are in and not at all how I thought they’d look. On one hand, I’m glad it’s over (free time!) but on the other, I miss it already (keeping occupied!). It’s the best time of the year, mingling with likeminded people.

The constant moving gave me some weird aura of confidence so sharing work in class on Wednesday didn’t feel nearly as frightening as it previously had — my expanded sentence was a lot more descriptive than others, who focused more on plot progression (just a note! I guess I like meandering on minor things).

Monday was quite the experience — that Yossi spoke for 3 hours and made it feel like half an hour was impressive, and he spoke with such thoughtfulness, almost a rehearsed mode of speech, crafting every point he made into a recollection of one story or another. His interview with Marco Pierre White in Bread Wine & Thou is a great read — I’d like to be able to write with such prowess one day. Another great week. Haven’t missed a class yet, and don’t plan to (given Alexia reschedules week 7’s Monday class to compensate for Twin Peaks‘ double episode finale).

Is David Ehrlich Film Twitter?

Ya boy

David Ehrlich is a technological mystery. Shrouded in tweets covering all the usual bases from film to politics to Twin Peaks memes, a defined biography is hard come by—some say that @davidehrlich is just a persona, a wandering fragment of Twitter aided by a ghost-writing team of twenty who type away at hyperspeed trying to publish as much Indiewire content as possible in a given week. But unravelling this mystery finds his beginnings as a film studies major as tangible a story as any other critic. The details are hazy, surely scrawled across a series of 140-character posts in another timeline, but Ehrlich’s journey to becoming the critic he is now arose from a series of unsuspecting decisions.

Ehrlich’s branching out to a wider audience was foreshadowed in his discontent with the microaudience of academic essays. During his time studying at Columbia University in New York City, he worked on many of these several-thousand-word pieces but felt that for the work he was putting in, he wasn’t getting out as much as he had hoped. The audience was too small—he wanted to share his musings with the world at large. At the time, he held the position of Film Editor for the Columbia University Newspaper and was an annual attendee of Comic-Con (a tradition among his group of friends), and the tipping point for this journey came when one of these friends suggested that a website called Cinematical.com was on the hunt for someone to cover Comic-Con. One thing led to another, and what initially began as a chance encounter eventuated in a rapport between Ehrlich and fellow film writer Erik Davis (of movies.com fame). Davis acted as a kind of guide for Ehrlich, who allowed the creation of Ehrlich’s Criterion Corner column (currently going through secretive renovations) and led his talents to Box Office magazine and beyond. Ehrlich’s resume is nothing short of a film writer’s dream, with credits ranging from Rolling Stone to The AV Club to The Dissolve (which now lives on through a sprawling range of Facebook groups).

Ehrlich writes with palpable energy, a marriage of insight and humour at all possible chances, prose populated with parenthesised comments, self-reflexive reactions to declarative statements that read like tweets expanded into essays. His penchant for clustered, “paragraph-sentence lede[s]” (Ehrlich, 2017) that envelop as much relevant information as possible in an opening burst evokes an essence of authority; authority channelled through his ability to unravel a film’s threads as economically as possible. His control over these tools defines his devotedly passionate approach to film criticism, a need to share his love for the cinema with the world at large. There’s a genuine sense that he loves the things he’s writing about (and even if he doesn’t love them at all, he imbues his writing with enough hyperbole to keep himself—and by extension, his readers—entertained).

His approach to criticism dances a fine line between academic and casual, and with enough personality to satisfy both sides of the equation. His knowledge is extensive and operates comfortably within the framework of each review, whether he’s theorising on the next entry into the MCU or a Cannes obscurity. His charm of course lies at twitter.com/davidehrlich which remains the through line of his career, and what began as an impulsive decision one morning to sign up to the network, ultimately became his claim to fame — “Without twitter I don’t think I would have been able to establish a presence for myself” (Ehrlich, 2013). Ehrlich strives to always be engaging and, in this millennium, appealing to the masses through short and explosive bursts of engagement proves a perfect answer to diminishing attention spans and saturated content. This is strengthened by the look of his tweets, the creation of an “aesthetic disparity” (Ehrlich, 2013) between the capitalised TITLE of a film and the surrounding comments on the film an informed and conscious decision to break through the clusters upon clusters of data and catch the eye of unsuspecting users. He acknowledges that the onus is on the reader — you have to be the one to figure out who to follow, whose opinions you’re going to trust. It’s a great big world out there, one constantly revolving around an endless stream of criticism being concurrently spoken by a million different, diverse voices. Curation is key, and Ehrlich embodies the notion that Twitter is a great analogue to the oscillating waves of film criticism—the constant conversation becomes deafening if you haven’t filtered out the white noise.

In some great irony, as if intended by a higher force, Ehrlich during/before college worked as a personal shopper at an Apple store—someone paid to assist with the decision-making that goes into a purchase. The irony here is clear, but this past job also acts as some abstract base for his later appreciation for Olivier Assayas’ Personal Shopper (2016), a film so interested with how technology shapes how we remember those who’ve died. I don’t mean to sound morbid for the sake of rounding off this piece with a semi-impressive, semi-excusable mostly-hacked conclusion, but if we ever lose David Ehrlich, at least we know that the spirit of him will live on inside the servers at Twitter headquarters.

Everyone’s A Critic week 4: festivale!

MIFF time!!! One of my (new) favourite times of the year, the excitement in the air is palpable. To be honest I feel like I should be writing more, especially given the slew of quality films the festival has been pumping out, but my creativity sure likes to roll itself up into a ball and hide until it’s ready to come out. And when it emerges, it’s good — otherwise it’s a whole lot of staring at blank screens, fumbling over word choice.

I’m still conflicted as to whether I’m rubbish at critiquing others’ work or that everyone else in class is a really good writer (I’m sure this is the case regardless). But I’ll bring my hyper-critical hat next time. Watch out.

Hearing professional critics speak on their methods and beginnings was inspiring — if nothing else this class has given me so much inspiration to get out there and move beyond the academic spaces. Drinks with the critics, what a life. Drinks with your teachers, what a life!!!!!

Everyone’s A Critic week 3: nice!

Week 3 was an inspiring week. Usually following class I get back on the train home and am too self-conscious about the people around me looking at what I’m typing to use my laptop, and too lethargic by the time I get home that the inspiration fuelled by this class has all but faded — so I decided to type away in the Notes on my phone. By some spectacular event my writer’s block lifted, just for an hour, as I typed away a review for City of Gold. Even though I knew that activity had been scrapped I felt that I needed to write something, to not let the creativity stop or be restrained by these 2-hour long trips. And it was good. Note-taking during the movie definitely helps direct my writing when it comes to putting pen to paper as I’m all but useless when trying to tackle something with fizzled memories of the parts that I thought were interesting.

Moreover, the critic analysis helped give me an idea of just how to talk about the language of their writing, their personas and improved my critical thinking. Usually when I read something that’s been published (that has more depth than a plot summary) I don’t think to critique it (or don’t have the skills too) and this exercise broadened my thinking when it comes to ‘professional’ writing — a piece full of references and fancy words can be just as disengaged with the film as a plot summary.

Everyone’s A Critic week 2: yeehaw!

Critique is daunting. Like Alexia, I am terribly insecure about my writing and handing over an unfinished half-drafted write up on Spider-Man to a new classmate was, of course, nerve-racking. Ultimately, this turned out productive (of course!) and despite these bouts of self-consciousness it’s just good to be back at uni. To be engaged with my writing I really need deadlines, objectives, direction. The mid-sem break eventually churned me out lethargic, no brainpower in the tank. This studio is reinvigorating the worker bee in me. It has also pushed my writing and reading beyond my comfort zone: most of my read criticism when not researching for essays comes from other users on Letterboxd, with small segues into professionally published work, mostly when it’s convenient. I’ve kerbed my laziness (to some degree) and given myself more time to read; snoozed the clock in my head that ticks so aggressively away anytime I feel like doing something unproductive; locked up the habitual skim-reader inside, and learned to read in moderation, just a little bit more per day. So far, this studio makes the 5am wake up worth it.