So, the other day, after writing “Dear Netflix,” I forwarded it along to Mike at Hacking Netflix in the interests of mutual back-scratchery. He ran an except from my post — essentially a never-gonna-happen argument that Netflix could use reviews and content to enhance its business — but, reading his excerpt, what got to me were the comments on the piece, which served as just another reminder of why I hate the goddamn internet, and which filled me with a deep and soul-crushing depression that I needed to turn into this brief blast of anger.
Commenting is supposed to be the vital lifeblood of the web, the straw that stirs the drink of conversation, the lively salon of ideas in the public sphere. But, really, it isn’t, any more than prison is an exciting social milieu full of new occasions. One time out of a hundred, a comment is interesting — a civil contribution, a brilliant counter-argument, a salient fact, a pertinent point. The other 99 times?
1. It’s commentary offered by people who didn’t even read the goddamn article in the first place. At hacking Netflix, someone named ‘Me’ noted that my piece was “ummmm … disgruntled former employee ruminations.” Well, if you read the piece, there’ s no rancor or venom in it at all, and it’s coming from a cheerful place of wanting Netflix — ” a company full of people and principles I like,” as the piece says — to succeed; I’m gruntled as hell, “me,” and you didn’t even read a measly thousand words before running your mouth.
2. It’s willfully and grimly anti-intellectual. Now, these examples are specifically about the piece I wrote, but you don’t have to dig too hard to find similar ideas in any comment area. “Things” posted, at Hacking Netflix, his take on the idea of Netflix having content and curation: “No. Movie reviewers, more often than not, try to sound like ultra intelectuals (sic) and are so wordy you can’t tell what they truly thought of movies.” And “Amanda” notes “I don’t pay much attention to professional reviews, anyway. It means much more to me to hear what people like me, people I know, genuinely think about a movie experience than what some guy who is paid for a review wants me to think.”
I hear this a lot. A lot. And you know what? America has always had a strong strain of know-nothing hard-headedness — I don’t need no fancy-lad tellin’ me what to think! — but the fricking internet has turned that cold into a cancer. People who say they don’t read reviews, essentially, are saying “I do not want to risk being exposed to any idea I have not already had, or any fact I did not already know; I don’t want to risk reading a well-crafted sentence, nor do I want to endanger my currently-held ideas and opinions by exposing them to any counter-argument.” And that’s not just on-line, these days. It’s in book shops, in theaters, on radio stations, everywhere. And our culture, as it is organized now (and such as it is) makes it all the more likely that you don’t have to read anything you don’t want to, or that doesn’t conform to your world view or your tastes. (This is why I miss getting The Sunday Times — not because it delivered information, but, even better, because it delivered random, quality information. You don’t get that online, really, and it’s a shame.)
Or, as Harold Ramis said in an interview with The Believer (that fricking fancy-lad Bible):
Harold Ramis: I can’t tell you how many people have told me, “When I go to the movies, I don’t want to think.”
The Believer: Does that offend you as a filmmaker?
Ramis: It offends me as a human being. Why wouldn’t you want to think? What does that mean? Why not just shoot yourself in the fucking head?
3. It’s anonymous. And this is why internet comments are ultimately useless — because, as anyone can tell you, people behave differently when you don’t know who they are. And I know there’s an argument for anonymity on the internet — LGBT youth in isolated and homophobic communities, whistle-blowers, and so on — but really, most commenters on the internet aren’t trying to blow the lid off of The China Syndrome or hide from gay-bashing jerks; they’re just rude, and ignorant, and they’re rude and ignorant because they know they don’t have to say who they are. I think that a site should make its own decision to allow anonymous commenters, sure — but that no site should allow anonymous commenters unless it’s a pure, real necessity. Because most of the time, it isn’t.
And it’s because internet commenters are either lazy, cowardly or stupid that I find myself relying on Twitter more and more. I disagree with lots of people in my Twitter feed — @jenyamato didn’t want to vomit from the Justin Bieber film, @mtgilchrist actually liked Tron: Legacy, @MarkReardonKMOX has a political sensibility so opposite to mine I’m amazed we don’t explode when we shake hands — but they are polite, and articulate and, please note, saying what they do under their real names. I think I’ve given up on internet comments about the things I write — reading them or caring about them — unless they’re from people who use their real names. Otherwise, it’s just opening up your life and brain to too much negativity and stupidity.
Does this sound elitist? I’m sure it does. But, to paraphrase what Tom Tomorrow once said, if ‘elitist’ is how you say ‘not the dumbest melonfarmer in the room,’ then I’ll take that. I’m a grownup. I put my name on what I say. And if you can’t do that, or can’t get why that matters in an age of willful stupidity and inhuman rudeness, then, really, who cares what you bellow from your rotten, wounded, idiot heart?
- James Rocchi
Great piece James. To paraphrase the Simpsons, anonymous commenting is a victimless crime, like punching someone in the dark.
I’m amazed at the random, insulting belligerence the internet brings out of people who are not even anonymous. I’ve had to de-”friend” Facebook acquaintances who would show up on my wall only to tell me that something I’d written was elitist or (gasp!) opinionated. Further inquiry into their ruffled feathers would usually reveal that they’d clearly not even read the piece.
Also, my personal favorite “gotcha” phrase that morons lob at critics: what have you done that’s so great? As if I’m not allowed to send my food back at a restaurant until I’ve prepared a perfect version of the same dish.
You think you got it tough, buddy? “Amanda” is my NIECE.
Okay, I HAVE a niece named Amanda. Might not be the same person.
I have had a very different experience on Twitter than you. I am off it for Lent, but every now and then I go in there and look, and drop a bunch of people I was following, because they’ve said just one really offensive arrogant thing. By the time I come “back” (and when I do come “back” my rule about tweeting will be very simple: before even typing, I ask myself, “Is it informative? Is it amusing?” and if the answer to both is “no,” then no tweet), I’ll be following maybe ten people! And of course you’ll be one of them, dahling.
So wait a minute, are you saying that @mtgilchrist IS an intellectual? (Sorry, couldn’t help myself.)
That Harold Ramis exchange is golden.
One thing that really annoys me, in addition to what you’ve so eloquently stated, is that differing opinions are often regarded as personal attacks. It’s as if expressing disagreement is akin to insulting a person’s entire family. If a person is so insecure in their opinion that they need to be constantly validated, then there is no point in discussing something with them.
Wait, so someone who makes a living critiquing other people’s work doesn’t want to have his work critiqued? Boo hoo. I bet you have a great justification for those filmmakers, who have taken 6 months to a year to make their film, that would rather not have some critic take two hours to watch it then two more to write a review.
Get over yourself, crybaby. Get a thicker skin or get off the internet.
WHOOOOOOSHHH!
That’s the sound of The Point flying over your head, Sean. (If that is your real name.)
I guess someone spending six months to a year on something means nobody is allowed to tell them it sucks.
Internet comments are the worst, I agree. Suddenly everyone has as many voices as they can invent and there’s a gigantic magnifying glass on human stupidity. And it’s in my face. Somebody should have raised all these people better. Still, I don’t see how you can possibly know whether or not someone is using her real name. Unless maybe you’ve decided you’ll only read comments from people you know. That’s probably a good idea. I’m really sorry it has to be that way, though. I love reading reviews and critical musings from people I’ll never know and sometimes I comment or question or otherwise try to contribute. Anonymously.
Hey, Sean? I put my name on everything I write. And I never say anything in a review I couldn’t say to someone’s face. Again, try reading. it makes life easier.
Regarding your point #2, specifically what Amanda said – I think you may be a little biased. To say that the only reason someone doesn’t read professional reviewers is to avoid new ideas is direly cynical. Certainly it’s incredibly frustrating to have the entire system of movie reviews discounted. I’m dumbstruck when I’m invited to a movie with a 23% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes which they disregard because “Oh, I don’t trust critics.” But I don’t feel it’s terror at having to read and interpret a few paragraphs that shuts them down (‘things’ yes, ‘Amanda’ no.)
The difference is knowing who it’s coming from. I grew up reading Bill Goodykoontz, who writes with (admittedly) less finesse than you, but was a fine reviewer nonetheless. However, after reading his write-up of a movie, I couldn’t guess whether I’d like it or not. I don’t believe this was a fault on either his or my part; we just didn’t have the same taste in movies. In the end, all a critic manages to do is convey their opinion of the movie, and finding one with whom we often align in tastes with is rare. As brilliantly as you write, James, your reviews are only helpful to me after I’ve gotten to know you (For instance, I can trust your review to match my eventual opinion on all movies except those in the superhero genre).
I don’t mean to discount the evident work a critic must put into being unbiased, or watching a movie from the average moviegoer’s viewpoint. Nonetheless, you’re viewing the movie through James-colored glasses. I can read your review of a film and learn that the plot is hackneyed, but I can’t learn from you that said hackneyed plot will invoke a twist from a treasured childhood story. For the average person, a movie reviewer is a stranger telling them an opinion on a movie. A professional, certainly, but a professional in a subjective field.
To be clear, I am only defending their reasoning here – someone being burned by a faceless few paragraphs who dissuaded them from watching what turned out to be their favorite movie, I understand why that person turns to their friends, whose opinions are much more readily quantified. But ignoring the entire institution of movie reviewers is sad overreaction. Even contrary opinions, if they are well written, can be useful. You are free to throw up arms at the people.mock the everliving hell out of these people.
Totally agree and it’s frustrating to be on the comments end of things too… trying to add something insightful to the conversation and being drowned out by cries of first (whatever that means) and people who only read the headline. You want to see the worst of the worst though, check out the comments on YouTube, that’s a real example of the lowest common denominator of internet society.
Good job, James! I’m totally crying now! You really got me with your intellectual response! Thank goodness you put your name on it, because that’s exactly what I was referring to in my comment. Try reading? Exactly!
What I’ve noticed with the rise of my site’s Facebook page is that a real name isn’t even a barrier for some people– I’ve gotten some of the most hateful, ignorant comments on Facebook, from people happily putting their entire names out there. The Internet is so large compared to the real world that even if I know Joe Wilson from Partridge, Minnesota called me a nasty name, there’s really no way that’s ever going to affect him in real life.
Whereas with critics, especially those of us who do interviews and are often likely to meet the filmmaker we’re critiquing, it’s very possible we’ll meet someone who will say “I read your review of my movie, why did you say those things?” There’s an accountability there that I, at least, consider heavily when writing a review.
And Sean, by being an asshole in this particular comments section, you are severely missing the point.
FIRSTIES!
I didn’t bother to read this post because no one cares what you think. I also don’t understand some of the elitist multi-syllable words you use – salient, rancor, paraphrase, who talks like that anyway? – but I’d much rather spend more of my time telling you that I don’t understand these words than look them up on the very internet I’m using. You think you’re so right, but you’re totally not. Besides, it’s just like, your opinion, man. And everyone’s a movie critic these days. Also, repeal Obamacare.
Here’s a link to my blog…
Hear, hear.
For me, it’s more complicated.
For ex., one of the reasons I’ve largely stopped reading movie reviews is because even the leading critics (I just had correspondence with a major daily reviewer about this, re: WIN-WIN) are consistently guilty of minor-major SPOILERS. I don’t know why so many critics feel the need to hang their thoughts on a chrono-spine of the plot. Go bigger, I say, so you don’t ruin even a small surprise.