Now, I know how that sounds, but stay with me; I’m going somewhere with this. I have nothing against originality. I love it. There’s nothing quite like a new idea or story to truly set the senses afire and get the synapses firing. But in the critical set, especially in this day and age, the expectation of originality is such that the critics seem to be willfully forgetting history, tearing apart or dismissing outright films with stories that seem to lack much originality. Now this isn’t another rant on remakes – this is about something a bit more subtle, something that has really come to the surface with the release of two high-profile and very good films in recent weeks.
The first is Shutter Island, Martin Scorsese’s noir/thriller throwback starring Leonardo DiCaprio. The film scored big last weekend and was a critical darling, being mentioned as an Oscar possibility for next year with many adding that it has a strong shot at their year-end top 10 lists. Of course, that’s only about 66% of the critics out there. The other third had something completely different to say about the film. A quick look at the Rotten page for it on Rotten Tomatoes will tell you everything you need to know. Those critics found it very ‘been there, done that.’ They predicted the ending, they saw it coming; they felt as if they’d been down this road before. Many found it a wasted opportunity to tell something more original.
To them it doesn’t matter that despite this story having been told in various ways before, it had never been told this way – or this well. This was the best version of this story ever told. But many critics yawned, scratched their heads and wondered why Scorsese didn’t bother to surprise them. As something of a cineaste myself, I too was able to predict the ending (for which we were all awarded medals and a trophy after the screening of the film, not to mention a cash prize for our brilliant deductions) but instead found myself wrapped up in the double meanings Scorsese ascribed to each scene and the subtle flourishes he used to ape the film styles of yesteryear while providing clues to the universe through which we were viewing the events of the film.
This is exactly what happens when a genius like Scorsese takes an idea you’ve seen before and sets out to do it better than anyone else. But that’s not what some people wanted. They wanted surprise. You see, these folks watch so many films (many of them as many as four or five a day) that what they want out of someone like Marty is something new and different. These people have literally watched thousands of films and their fluency in its language has grown in such a manner that it is now their native tongue. And they demand something new – fresh words to add to their cinema vocabulary.
A similar series of reviews are coming out of Roman Polanski’s new film The Ghost Writer (remember when the reviewers focused more on the film itself rather than Polanski’s status as a fugitive and sex offender?). Polanski didn’t reinvent the wheel with this film. Instead he told a very by-the-numbers political thriller – but did so in his classic, paranoid, brilliant manner, turning in one of his very best films ever. Again, bored critics were bothered that they were able to predict the film’s big twist.
Forget the fact that both of these films exhibit incredibly daring (and original) final moments that add an extra layer of pathos to already wonderful films – these come after the twist, and some critics were already too disappointed to appreciate them. What many critics are asking for time and again is originality in storytelling – not originality in filmmaking. And the entire concept seems counterintuitive. I’m not arguing that critics have to like these films regardless, but in the case of movies like these, calling them predicable or bragging about guessing the ending misses the point of the films entirely. Me? When I sit down to watch a movie, I don’t need it to be the first time I’ve ever heard this story. I just want it to be the best that I’ve heard this story told. If you’re going to tell a story we’ve all heard before, that’s fine. Just tell it better.
In Scorsese and Polanski’s case, I believe they do, and I believe many critics are missing the point.
Check out last week’s Counterpoint with Cargill
