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| Photo By Charlie Foster image courtesy of unsplash.com |
The four easiest questions to answer in a review:
1. If the creators used your time watching the movie well or not, and if so why.
2. If they wasted any of your time, and if so how.
3. Whether you could tell what they were trying to do, and what their intention was.
4. Whether you think they succeeded in making that intention a reality, and if so why.
For me, keeping these four questions in mind makes critical thinking of creative works way more simple and straightforward.
Write about what you like and what you don't
When you watch the movie, make quick notes of whatever jumps out at you as a good thing, whether it's clever/amusing, intriguing or captivating, or pretty, or sad (in the good way), or original, or anything else that makes you smile, or jump (in the good way), or pay attention in general.
It will likely be easier to make note of the things you don't like, or at least that's how it usually seems to me (I may have an overly judgmental personality). Any time you're knocked out of the moment, made suddenly aware that you're not living a set of experiences but sitting in a room watching footage of people on a screen, jot it down in case you need it.
Movies, in the end, are the result of a series of decisions made by the writers who developed the ideas and dialogue, to the producers who planned the sets and schedules (and everything else), the actors who personified the characters, the directors who kept everything going one specific way, and editors who piece the moving images together, (and many other people) and what you're evaluating are whether these decisions were good ones, whether they made the final product better or worse.
You're going to have the easiest time commenting on things that personally spoke to you, one way or another.
The things you remember about a movie easily afterward are probably the important parts
As with any creative work, memorability is sort of the ultimate test: whether or not something stays in the mind, for good or bad reasons, is in many ways the first step towards its being successful.
You're more likely to talk about it with friends, to bring up its jokes or dialogue later, to want to watch it again later, the more likely it is to have a wider impact on pop culture in general and to therefore age well or poorly.
After the movie's done, I look back over my notes, try to amend or expand on anything notes that seem incomplete (if I can recall what I was getting at), and to jot down the things which stand out most clearly in my mind. Then I do it again the next day, if I have the time, and see if there's anything that makes the cut (read: hasn't been deleted by my brain already) that I didn't write down before or deserves an underline.
Most likely if you remember it, there's a reason, you just have to consider it until you figure that reason out.
If it's unimpressive, don't be afraid to say so
So far I've been lucky in that all the reviews I've written have been for movies I particularly enjoyed or thought I had something worthwhile to say about. The people I work with are generous enough to let me pick and choose the films I review as a hobby, rather than a profession, so I'm able to limit my efforts to the kind of work with which I can do my best.
In other words, I haven't had to write a review yet about the much, much, much more frequent occurrence of a movie failing to impress me when I expected it to, or failing to rise to the standards it sets for itself in its unfolding.
In other words, movies often start out with more promise than they deliver on: if this happens, make sure to mention it. The unfortunate truth is that there are a lot of films in the world, and most of them are mediocre. More often than not the only meaningful thing to describe are the things they could have done but didn't.
If all else fails, watch some special features
I'm not a movie maker; I've never worked in hollywood, or anywhere else in cinema, and I don't know first-hand what a big production is like.
But having a layman's knowledge of how films are made and come together can be extremely helpful in answering the four questions listed above, particularly in terms of understanding the technical craft of the media. That is, if you know what kind of work basically goes into making the thing, you'll generally be better equipped to talk about what got your attention, what seemed to go wrong, and what you think they were trying to do but either did or didn't pull off effectively.
So when I'm stumped, I go back to what I know about how movies are made based on the documentaries on filmmaking I've seen.
Some good examples are:
-Snowball Effect: the Story of Clerks (2004)
-The Lord of the Rings Special Extended Edition Appendices (2002-2004)
-Spotlight on Location: The Making of Jaws (2000)
-Any episode of Inside the Actors Studio
Writing. Production, casting, performances, direction. Editing, visual effects, music, sound design.
Getting to know the general terminology of the industry I find is pretty helpful towards thinking of a movie as a means of telling a story which is built out of a large series of small decisions that can be considered and evaluated both one at a time and collectively.
Three Acts?
One thing I've had to just accept that I can write about whether I understand it or not is the three-act format of most hollywood screenplays.
Generally speaking, many if not most films seen in theaters before massive audiences will have a story that fits more or less the same pattern every time. Think of it like a revision on those handy plot diagrams they made us draw in 9th grade English, which as I recall looked something like this:
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| image courtesy of the wikipedia |
The first act is the set-up of the rest of the work: it ends when the characters are all known, the problem of the story is set up, and usually when a large challenge has been conquered or at least survived. When things seemed to have calmed down for a moment and the story has turned a corner, that's the start of act two, and the tension starts rising again.
Consider second act to be the hollywood equivalent of Joseph Campbell's Road of Challenges in his famous Monomyth; it comes to a head after the characters have overcome a series of lesser problems following the first climax, and usually ends on a down note, when things seem to be as bad as they could possibly be for the heroes.
The third act is when the real fireworks come in: it begins where the second act ends, in the figurative belly of the whale: the difference is what happens to the characters when they're in the pit. Usually it involves some transformation of character: either they recognize the shortcoming that's been holding them back, or decide to take ownership of an asset they've previously failed to recognize or wanted to downplay, or they finally come to a compromise of some kind with the force that's holding them back. Often there's either a conversation between two characters who haven't talked much so far, or an introspective moment. Something that indicates soul searching is going down.
Whatever the change is, they emerge from the most depressing part of the story ready to kick butt, and the rest of the movie is the final race to the solving of the story's main problem. After the problem is solved, the "falling action" and "denoument" of modern film is extremely brief, usually just a ten to fifteen minute wrap-up or 'the adventure continues' wink to the audience, then the credits roll.
The nice thing about this structure is that, like the Monomyth I mentioned above, it can be nested inside itself; there can be multiple levels of three-act problem solving going on in the same film or even in the same act, if the writers are skilled enough at keeping different plates spinning and keeping the lines of communication to the audience clear and comprehendible.
Not all movies conform to this structure, in fact the good ones usually either ignore it or stand it on its head.
But some good examples to help you get the general idea are:
-Independence Day (divided even into separate days, with title cards, for convenience)
-The Matrix (classic Monomyth)
-The Avengers
-Groundhog Day
-The Princess Bride (complete with pit of despair)
-Finding Nemo
-The Dark Knight (acts within acts within acts within acts)
-Star Wars (IV) (Lucas expressed outright his gratitude to Joseph Campbell)
-Raiders of the Lost Ark
-V for Vendetta
-Jurassic Park
-Guardians of the Galaxy
(Some good or great movies that play with the structure or turn it on its head include Pulp Fiction, the Shawshank Redemption, the Godfather, Sin City, the Departed, and Se7en)
To what works is the film in question similar? How does it compare? Differ?
The history of cinema is a long and rich one, and I am hardly an expert. A professor at my university referred to black-and-white movies as existing, to paraphrase, in an era before visual effects were a substitute for quality.
I've seen many black and white movies, mostly filmed with color wasn't an option or practical, and most of those I've seen have been around long enough because they are excellent, usually for their writing and acting.
But I haven't seen every movie that exists.
And one very strange thing about an aging art form like cinema is, the people making the most famous works nowadays are influenced by three or four distinct generations of filmmakers that came before them, whether they know it or not.
So when I'm watching a movie for the first time, I know in advance that I will not pick up on the reasons why many decisions are made, and will not notice when this character or that paraphrased line of dialogue or a certain technical trick have been used before.
But there are always things which remind me of other movies, and things which I know I've never seen before and which remind me of nothing. Both of these are worth taking note of, together with the reason why they catch my attention in the first place.
I find that these are most noteworthy when:
-They play against the expectations of the genre I'm watching;
-They enrich character in an unexpected way
-They transcend, or momentarily matter more than, the plot line/source of dramatic tension
Practice reviewing movies you especially like or especially dislike
Pop in the DVD, and when the parts that make you laugh or cry or say Hell Yeah come on, jot down what they were and why you did that.
Try to focus on the way that the movie does these things that other movies don't do them, you may have more to say than you'd expect (this usually as to do with either the writing or the acting, but other production aspects like soundtrack or maybe visual effects). Avoid the word "perfect," instead give specific reasons why things complement each other, or are beneficially contrasted.
See if you can find ways they could have made the movie better, or at least differently, and whether the way they did things were the best. If they couldn't be improved, say why that is.
The same goes for movies you might hate; it may not be necessary to re-watch these depending on the strength of your memory (I can remember things that turned me off or outraged me in movies years later, despite its not being useful information, again this may be some form of personality disorder or untapped superpower I'm not sure which), but if you can give clear and concise reasons as to why the movie sucked, take a stab at writing them out.
Read reviews from movies you especially like or especially dislike
Pay a visit to rottentomatoes.com or any other critical aggregate site (metacritic isn't bad, imdb varies by entry) and look up a movie you've always enjoyed. See what the critics had to say about it. Try to think of one from the last year, the last five years, the last ten years, and a few from your childhood/adolescence.
Most aggregate sites feature blurbs from the critics which then link to the full article on the critic's own website. Read through the blurbs and see which ones jump out at you because you agree with what they say or disagree completely. Then read those reviews, and pay attention to whether the writer comments on the things you liked or disliked about the film.
Do the same for films you hated.
Thoughts on form
I've noticed that many movie reviews, and most of the ones I've put together, follow a general pattern:
Introduction
Tricky or trickiest part to get right; I try to explain either why I wanted to see the movie or what I think the movie was trying to be about, and a strong hint as to whether it's worth seeing.
Introduce main character, approximate setting, and chief problem. Try and find an original way of putting the movie's conceptual hook where applicable.
Highlight Reel
The strongest or overall strengths in a praising review, the worse or overall weakest points in a condemning one.
Other key Pros or Cons
Anything that was either strong or better than just acceptable (without necessarily being exemplary, in case of a mediocre film, if extra comments are needed). Anything that called other works to mind or can be favorably/unfavorably compared to other works.
Other technical commentary
If the soundtrack, visual effects, camera work, or anything other than writing, acting, and directing were worth mentioning.
Cons among the Pros, or Pros among the Cons
In a praising review, what they did wrong or could have done better. In a condemnation, anything redeeming. In a mediocre review, anything noteworthy for being baffling, out of place, or otherwise memorable.
Recommendation
Whether or not it's worth seeing, maybe mention in what way (go see it in theaters, wait for DVD, etc.)
By no means is this the only way to write a review, and they don't each need their own paragraph or need to be limited to just one paragraph apiece. I just generally try to hit all these points in order to make it seem comprehensive and well-rounded.
Other Points
Three other things to keep in mind while writing a review:
-How much the movie cost
-Who it's likely made for, the target audience
-Whether it's making money, especially with an international audience
None of these things need to be commented on in every or even any review, but they are worth keeping in mind because the motion picture industry is seen more and more each year as a financial heavyweight; bigger and bigger budgets, bigger and bigger expected returns.
When King Kong was made in 2005 by Peter Jackson, it was a world-record level of news because it cost more than $207 million, and was the most expensive movie ever made. It grossed about $550 million worldwide, and was seen as a box-office disappointment if not a failure. This record has since been surpassed by Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End (2007) at $300 million (note: this is NOT the figure for Pirates 2 & 3; that's #3 alone), and in general films cost more and more every year.
Since this time last year for example, there have been four movies released that cost $200 or more (The Hobbit: the Desolation of Smaug, Transformers 4, X-men Days of Future Past, and The Amazing Spider-Man 2) and nearly all the top-grossing films have cost $150 million or more, usually closer to the $170-190 million mark (notable exceptions from the top 10 grossing lists are the animated Rio 2 at about $96 million, and 99% animated Gravity at $100 million).
None of this, most of the time, is important for most of the reasons that movies are good or bad movies.
But they are worth keeping in mind for the kinds of movies you're likely to see in the future.
Production companies and the people who bankroll them have the most confidence in the things they've seen succeed in the past, and the things which are popular now.
So keep in mind:
Did they make this movie for:
boys, or
for girls, (or both);
is it for kids,
or grown-ups, (or both).
It seems silly and stupid to pigeonhole good creative work in this way, but a surprising number of the people who decide which movies being made next year and the year after that are looking at the movies coming out this year with just this sort of categorizing in mind, and paying attention to whether movies with a certain audience succeed or fail, again more often than not by their lofty, blockbuster-or-get-out-standards.
More and more often as movies cost more to make and big returns are expected, you'll see movies tailored to hit as many of these four "compass points," and to hit them not only in the U.S., but in China, and Japan, and Europe, and in Russia. This means more universally acceptable content, not necessarily dumbed down, but certainly less culture-specific (notice all those superhero movies lately?).
If they're going to spend $200 on a movie, they're going to want it to be a hit in more countries than just here. And do it in 3D.
The reason I say to pay attention to this is it will, or may, help shed light on the reasons behind the decisions the movie makers have made.
In the end,
you're writing about whether you'd recommend this movie to your friend, and if so why.
Try to imagine your friend as someone who knows their stuff about movies, and make the best use of your time reading up and preparing your thoughts before you have that conversation.
Then have that conversation, but in print, and make it as short, colorful, and direct as you can.
Everyone has their own voice to find in writing. The only way to find yours when it comes to film reviews is to read as many as you can and to write your thoughts about movies down as much as you can. If you want a good place to start, I recommend some of the following.
In the spring of 2013, Roger Ebert passed away, and I was suddenly more interested in his writing than I had been before (sad but true). In general he was one of the critics who either agreed with my thoughts on a movie (along with James Berardinelli) or who disagreed in such a way that I could understand what he was talking about.
I got hold of some of his books out of curiosity, specifically his The Great Films volumes 1 and 2, and reading his essays in those books was what really started my brain firing in terms of essays being something a person would want to write, even when a teacher wasn't forcing them to. I recommend finding one or both of these at the library, and reading the essays for the films you've seen that he lists at least once (I read each twice, but not consecutively), and maybe watching some of the ones he lists that you haven't seen.
With an eye to which movie is making how much money, and how it compares to others of its kind, bookmark boxofficemojo.com for day-by-day analysis of the ticket receipts for thousands of films, as well as breakdowns of US and foreign markets.
The quality has fallen off somewhat of late, but I also keep a regular eye on the Weekly Ketchup article on Rotten Tomatoes, just to have in mind what's brewing in the movie world and what may be coming out in a year or two.
Finally, a recommendation made with a grain of salt: there is a wiki you can look up called tv tropes and idioms, which is basically a mixture of overzealous fanboy analysis and key storytelling insights on crack, in wiki form, so endless linking and clicking is a real peril. I recommend visiting any given article for a film 1. after you've seen it, obviously, but also 2. after you've written about it, to see if there are any obvious insights you may have missed to keep in mind for next time.
I just noticed the title of this article makes use of the word "brief," so that's it for now. Thanks for reading, please ask any questions or voice any disagreements in the comments below!
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