My good friend The Reeler (how’s that for hyperbole? I believe we’ve met thrice, but isn’t that how one’s supposed to mention such a blogleague?) has posted the first half of his inaugural entry in a year-end Top 10 list of Top 10 lists, and so far it’s the best criticism of criticism I’ve read this year. (How many levels of meta can I sink?) Even as I fall into my own version of self-absorbed criticism, compiling my own list which surely he will have an easy enough time picking apart should he still care (probably not) by the time I actually post it, I can’t help but revel in the astute comment he has for the lists that range from “frustrating (10)” to just short of “useless (5).”
I took particular joy in his critique of the NY Times writes (grouped together at #6), especially this comment about A.O. Scott: “Scott is Scott, actually writing things like ‘The Squid and the Whale hit me where I live, and not only because it was filmed a few blocks from where I really do live” (a little bourgeoisie hand lotion never hurt an intellectual masturbator, I guess).” And then while praising Manhola Dargis in the same post by comparing her genuine pursuit of cricitism as movie-love rather than pursuit of intellectual superiority, he writes, “As usual Dargis tends to reward her readers for their time, but is rewarded herself by getting sandwiched between two writers [Scott and Stephen Holden] whose inconsistencies–at their worst–lapse into insufferable autoerotic impulse.”
Go to it Stu. Can’t wait for tomorrow. I’m just sorry I wasn’t finished in enough time to be lovingly ripped to shreds.
Out of Focus 