FAQ: A Free Film?

Or, I guess maybe I just couldn't think up a better name for my theory, but now it's too late to change it. So I'm stuck with it. Shut up and deal.
The Free Film Theory goes like this: a writer's critique of a film is based not merely on the writer's impression of the movie, but on the writer's past critique of the director/writer/actors involved in the film in inverse relation to the general popularity of those films.

Let me explain.

Suppose that one of the summer's big blockbusters is a unexciting messy windbag clunker of a film (if your imaginations are that good). The critic who sees this movie loathes it on sight, and reviews the movie accordingly. But where they place the blame for this failure is based not on whether the direction was awkward, or if the acting choppy and wooden, or the special effects garish and unconvincing. The blame is placed on the person they most feel should bear a little more blame, shielding the people the critics find deserving. How do they decide which is which? Funny you should ask. These decisions are decided mostly by the box-office results of the movies that critics either panned or praised the last time these actors/directors/writers were around. Really.

I'm sure you're doubting me, but keep reading and I'll give you an idea of how all this works.

The Da Vinci Quandry: How being a waifish French actress can get you through anything.

Or, how you know when it's time to stop picking on Academy Award winners.
The Da Vinci Code arrived this summer to absolutely no critical acclaim whatsoever, as critics across the nation grabbed pitchforks and lit torches with a ferocity no one had seen since, well, The Passion of the Christ. But when it came time to point the finger at someone for the troubling lack of excitement in the film, the critics instead spent the last half of their articles lauding director Ron Howard for his "good instincts." They called him a "maestro," applauding the way he "keeps the narrative taut," and mentioning how solid all filmmaking is when it's in his hands. The reviews that ripped Code the hardest didn't even mention Howard's involvement in the film, which seems a fairly large oversight considering he was the one who directed it.

Stars Tom Hanks and Audrey Tatou also faired reasonably well, as reviews generally referred to Hanks as "sympathetic," "funny," and "immensely watchable," and a good half of them reminded everyone that Hanks is our "most likeable actor." Tatou, the world's most marketable French actress, struggles with her English throughout the film and elicts not a scrap of chemistry with Hanks, an actor capable of having fantastic chemistry with virtually all actresses, most actors, and some dogs. Yet most reviews compliment her excellent screen presence in a "difficult role." In the end of it, about four out of five reviewers pan the movie without ever really placing blame anywhere except on the mediocrity of Dan Brown's writing style. Which really, when you think about it, shouldn't have that much effect on a screenplay.

What gives?

Follow me down the rabbit hole. In 2002, Ron Howard won the Best Director Oscar for his work on A Beautiful Mind, defeating Robert Altman, Peter Jackson, Ridley Scott, and David Lynch. Critics went ballistic, calling Howard a hack and poking fun at everything about him, from the fact that he used to be "Opie" to the fact that he's bald. They reminded readers that this was the same director who made How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and EDtv, and that it was an insult to the Academy to make Howard "Best Director." Years later, they would still bring it up in articles when they got the chance.

But then Howard disappeared for a few years, and when he appeared again with The Missing, no one went to see it, even though it got mediocre to decent reviews. And critics started to feel a little bad. That maybe they'd worked so hard to push him off his pedestal that he'd never get up again. A few years later, Cinderella Man came out. Critics lauded it to the heavens, mentioning what heart Howard had as a director, and reminding everyone that this was they guy who made Apollo 13. But still, hardly anyone went to see it.

So when The Da Vinci Code finally came out, critics pulled all their punches and looked for other targets. But they couldn't blame the actors, either, for the same reasons. Hanks was the man that they'd slagged years earlier when he was up for his third "Best Actor" prize at the 2001 Academy Awards. They'd called him "undeserving," and tried to sway the vote the other way, even though it was clear that his work on Cast Away qualified him for the award. The problem wasn't that he didn't deserve it, rather the critics were loathe to award him a third prize, since that make him the only actor ever to have acquired that many, and they "weren't ready to declare him the greatest actor of all time." And so Russell Crowe won instead. And the critics felt guilty. And Hanks has been given a free pass ever since.

In the same way, no critic was ready to ridicule Tatou since they'd already spent so much of their time trying to get people to go see her other movies (over 75% of reviews written mentioned that Tatou was excellent in Amélie). So every reviewer was left with the hating the collective whole while praising the sum of its parts. An unusual review, to be sure.

So let's break this down: Ron Howard won the Best Director Oscar, which put him in the doghouse with critics because that meant that the general public had a better opinion of him than the critics thought they should. But when he started releasing movies to no public acclaim, critics began to raise their voices in support of him, thinking he'd sunk too far (which is why Cinderella Man got much better reviews on DVD than in theatres - not that the film was any better, but rather that not enough people had gone to see it). And so when he released a movie that the critics hated, he got a free pass. The Da Vinci Code was his Free Film.

Where Howard goes from here is tricky, though. If he makes an excellent film as his next film, critics will swoon and mention how "revitalized" he is after the mess of Da Vinci. But if he makes another clunker - or, worse, a Da Vinci sequel - he'll be in trouble. Because he's already used his free film.

Next up: the flip side.

Getting Technical: Why do funny when you could be intense?

Or, Robin Williams plays a most dangerous game.
Robin Williams will likely never again be a critic's favorite, and here's why: they've never really forgiven him for Patch Adams. It's true. You can actually see critic's opinion of Williams tail off since Adams was released in 1998, though in some cases it wasn't that high to begin with. But Adams is the real dividing line. And as a result, he rarely gets a Free Film. Why? Because it was his Free Film.
Let's review the critical commentary on William's work since 1998. Pay attention to its gradual pattern:

• Patch Adams: The movie is so generally disdained by critics that it received a 25% rating at rottentomatoes.com (which lumps all movie reviews together in one place, and calculates the positive versus the negative. Anything over 60% is considered good), and they could only find a few good reviews to put up there. Of the first two, one is from Compuserve, and the other is in Spanish. Not a good sign. But Williams is rarely blamed for it. Instead, they blame whoever else is available (especially director Tom Shadyac, which is why he never gets credit for the success of Bruce Almighty). Most reviews read like this: "Instead of drama, Patch Adams gives us mere iconography, and wastes Williams's iconoclastic dedicated doc." Williams is mostly still on good terms.
• Jakob the Liar: A 28% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, and even less happy reviews. However, the tone of these have changed. While one had to hunt for bad reviews of Williams before, this time they were much easier to find: "Williams' self-conscious and rather bland performance never comes close to bringing his character to life." And things continue to decend:
  
• Bicentennial Man: Slightly better reviews and a 38% rating, but times get tougher for Williams. "Robin Williams is a talented man in danger of becoming a habitual hack," notes one of the reviews. Most of the other reviewers seem to think he's already there.
• One Hour Photo: This one is key. Pay attention. An 81% rating, and general love from all the critics. But listen to the tone of the reviews. Nothing is mentioned without reference to another Williams movie. "Robin Williams has thankfully ditched the saccharine sentimentality of Bicentennial Man in favour of an altogether darker side," notes one. That's not a glowing expression of approval. The pattern's starting to emerge, but we'll need some more sources.
  
• Death to Smoochy: Once again, a low opinion of the movie from critics: a 39% rating. But Williams is spared, because . But even while spared, there's a snarky factor to it: "It is so refreshing to see Robin Williams turn 180 degrees from the string of insultingly innocuous and sappy fiascoes he's been making for the last several years," notes a reviewer. So even when they like Williams in a particular film, they don't like him in general. But he's been playing their game for a couple years now, doing edgier, more serious fare. So if he makes a good film, they might welcome him in with open arms. Right?
• Insomnia: 91% rating. Bingo. Reviews for Williams go something like this: "Standing toe-to-toe with Pacino, Williams reminds us of the humanity that he has brought to his finest roles in films like The Fisher King or Good Will Hunting." What's that? No mention of Bicentennial Man? So it seems Williams has finally been welcomed back in with open arms. As long as he keeps on this trail, they'll stick by him. But the pattern becomes clearer at this point, because of course he doesn't.
  
• Robots: Williams didn't do too much for a couple years, and then reappeared with Robots, which garnered a solid 62% rating for it's excellent visual appeal, and pretty much nothing else. Hidden in these reviews are little hints and jabs at Williams, a signal that he should be careful: " Mr. Williams provokes a few chortles... but with Mr. Williams, less is so often more." This is not a problem yet. But this is a warning flag. So logically, if his next film is more serious and intense, he'll be forgiven. But if he goes the the other way...
• RV: 22% rating on what is an arguably fun but definitely stupid family comedy. And Williams is burned at the stake. "Williams' appearance in this film is the biggest casting faux pas since Julia Roberts as Tinkerbell, Tommy Lee Jones as Two-Face and Kevin Costner in almost anything he does," reads one review. Williams is back in the doghouse, and the critics, twice burned, hit him a little harder. Probably not what Williams was hoping for.

So, here's the pattern - Williams makes a movie that the critics despise. This is a strike against him. But then he doesn't learn his lesson. The first movie's successful, and then he does another movie like it, and another movie like that again. The critics are enflamed, each time ridiculing him harder and harder for having the audacity to make family-friendly cheesy comedy-dramas. Why won't he learn?

But he comes around. He switches gears again, goes back to the sort of movies that critics really love, and they gradually welcome him back into the fold. Because he's playing on their turf again. But when he switches again - well... it doesn't take much for them to turn on him.

Now, to make this example a little clearer, let me show you the other pattern working around through these films: their box-office numbers.

Patch Adams: $135 million (budget: $90 million)
Jakob the Liar: $5 million ($45 million)
Bicentennial Man: $58 million ($100 million)
One Hour Photo: $31 million ($12 million)
Death to Smoochy: $8 million ($50 million)
Insomnia: $67 million ($46 million)
Robots: $128 million ($75 million)
RV: 71 million ($50 million)

5 of those 8 films made money, which is not a bad average in Hollywood: Patch Adams, One Hour Photo, Insomnia, Robots, and RV. Of those, lets take out the three movies out that the critics actually liked - people going to see movies that critics liked doesn't faze them, they naturally assume that if they say a movie is good, people will go see it. So solid returns on a film with solid reviews is unsurprising to them - it's just as they thought it should be.

But when a movie that a reviewer has lambasted ends up making money, it ends up causing a stir. A critic takes it personally when a movie he or she has considered unworthy ends up winning over a large portion of the American viewing public. Clearly, the public needs to be taught a lesson or two.

Bring in Patch Adams and RV. The trouble with those films is not that critics hated them. It's that they made money even though critics hated them. That's a pretty cardinal rule for getting in on their bad side. And so their bitterness for this makes them dig deeper into Williams in Jakob the Liar and Bicentennial Man than they normally would've. Which bodes not well for Williams.

Next year Williams will voice a penguin in Happy Feet, try on being a Jon Stewart-type on Man of the Year, and play Teddy Roosevelt in Night at the Museum. And he has no idea how much trouble he's in.

Here's what the critics will say: On Happy Feet, they'll talk about how Williams hyperactivity makes them long for the solemness of March of the Penguins. When Man of the Year comes out, they'll talk about his less-than-slick comic stylings make them long for the slyness of Stewart and Colbert. And they'll snicker that his pure gonzo manic energy drains all enjoyment from Night at the Museum. They'll call him "tiresome," "aggravating," maybe even "washed-up" if they're feeling particularly vicious.

I guess that'll teach him. The lesson: never make something the whole family can enjoy.

Summing Up: Ryan Gosling's Startling Turn of Affairs

Or, how the exception proves the rule.
Now, I'd previously pointed out how being successful with a movie that critics loathe is a bad idea if you want to get good reviews in the future. Here's the exception to that: the critic's re-think.

The Notebook premiered in 2004 to middling reviews. While a few critics said they liked it despite the schmaltz, most dismissed it as a mediocre piece of craftsmanship. Tellingly, they dismissed the two romantic leads, Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams, in an offhand fashion. "They make a nice couple," said one reviewer, who couldn't seem to be bothered to mention any more about it. Most reviews spent their time focusing their time on how much they hated Nick Cassavetes' direction.

But then The Notebook hit, huge. It made $81 million over the waning months of the summer (it's budget was a mere $29 million, which is tiny for a studio picture), and it quickly reached cult status before it even reached DVD release.

According to the Free Film theory, this should have been a bad sign for both McAdams and Gosling. But fortunately for them, the success of the movie didn't harden the critics against them, but instead made them feel like they might have missed the boat.

When each of the actors made smart choices on their next films, the critics welcomed them in with open arms. McAdams saddled herself with the right sex comedy, Wedding Crashers, which went well out of its way to make sure that audiences noticed the caliber of actress they had in the lead. She followed with the unremarkable thriller Red Eye, but by that time, the critics had already welcomed her in. "She's got that indefinable something extra," cooed one.
"Most of the credit goes to her," announced another. Even Roger Ebert got into the act. "She brings more presence and credibility to her role than is really expected;" he says, swooning.
"She acts without betraying the slightest awareness that she’s inside a genre." He goes on to theorize that the reason for this may be because she's Canadian. So that's why we missed her!

Gosling's rise is even headier. If you watch the excellent trailer for the Next Great Indie Hope, Half Nelson, you may be a little surprised. "A tour de force by the brilliant Gosling, surely one of our greatest young actors?" "Ryan Gosling gives an astonishing performance," "Gosling is one of the most exciting actors of his generation?" Who said that? What? The New York Times? I'm sorry, but I'd completely missed what happened here. Isn't this just a mid-twenties B-list celeb with a penchant for doing indie flicks?

Exactly.

Gosling was the hidden star of the Notebook, but he didn't use that pull to push himself out of the world of intense indie dramas. For that, the critics love him. Adore him. Gosling would have to take a couple pretty big steps out of that world for those critics to leave him now. He played the hand dealt him perfectly - he didn't jump from the notebook to the next big blockbuster that came along. He instead went for the next big indie vehicle that fit his style. He'll never need a Free Film. His movies will always get good reviews (when was the last time you saw a Stand and Deliver-type movie get an 87% rating? Granted it is, quite literally, Stand and Deliver on crack). These guys are always going to be rooting for him.

And that, sports fans, is how you keep those pesky critics on your side.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2005)

A Three-Dollar Review

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is one of those movies with so many levels of irony built into it that you can't even begin to really fathom where the edge of believability ends and deliberate cynicism begins. The trick is this: Harry Lockhart (Robert Downey Jr.) is narrating this story about himself and his partner, Perry, the gay detective (Val Kilmer). But he's not narrating it in the traditional sense, his character is well aware of the fact that he's narrating a movie, and responds accordingly. Early parts of the film jump around a bit, there's a sardonic edge to every bit of information that Harry releases, and there's the constant sense that what you're watching is a movie, and thus shouldn't be taken too seriously.

To add further layers of irony, the movie is good - so good, in fact, that one falls helplessly into its trap, as each twist and turn brings you further in, and you keep believing, even as things get less and less believable, because the movie is actually much better than the movies it's parodying.

The reason for that is that the writer/director of the film, Shane Black, actually wrote those movies that he's parodying. He's the guy who wrote all the Lethal Weapon movies, and Last Kiss Goodnight. But he's so self-effacing that he's capable of brilliantly lampooning all the action movie cliches that he himself created. Though we shouldn't be suprised, he also wrote Last Action Hero - you know, the one where the kid goes into the Schwartzenegger movie - so he's already entrenched in the knowledge of what makes a successful parody.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang is thrillingly fast-paced, uniquely funny, and capable of so indiscernably not taking itself to seriously that sometimes you barely notice it's a farce. Bravo.

Three-Dollar Value: $2.58