Reel Talk: Paul or Pauline

Perhaps my favourite moment in all of cinema is the one in Annie Hall where Woody Allen’s Alvy Singer takes on a pretentious blow-hard who’s loudly pontificating about the merits of Fellini, Beckett and, most memorably, Marshall McLuhan, while waiting in line for a movie. Breaking the fourth wall, Alvy takes him aside and introduces him to the real-life McLuhan who’s been listening offscreen. The deadpan Canadian philosopher proceeds to put the tweed jacket-wearing prick in his place: “You know nothing of my work. You mean, my whole fallacy is wrong”. Since taking the reins of The Skinny film section, this seminal scene has become my nightmare.

The line between cutting critic and hyperbolic hack is a fine one. It’s pretty easy to do an entertaining hatchet job on the latest Katherine Heigl rom-com or Michael Bay mechanophilia, but it’s much harder to write a thoughtful, robust review of such one-star cannon fodder. Even harder is to see past the hoopla and hype surrounding the latest festival favourite or Oscar contender, or write a review of a Michael Haneke film that is both forensic and funny.

So, how do I avoid becoming the print equivalent of Annie Hall’s arsehole critic? Perhaps a less naval gazing opinion piece as my opening article would have been a start? I guess all I can do is be honest and fair. Will I be more Paul Ross than Pauline Kael? Let the internet pedants decide.