The end of the dream job

08 May 2023

Around a month ago, The New York Times chief film critic quit. After 23 years and over 6000 screenings, A.O. Scott walked away from what many would consider to be the dream job. ‘Who gives up the job of being chief film critic?’ commented Michael Barbaro, host of the NYT podcast The Daily. ‘I mean, it’s like abdicating the papacy of culture.’

I’ve been thinking about this. Reading a film review is like having a conversation with an old friend. And the critic, as part of that endless conversation, becomes particularly endearing. Consider the giants towering over film criticism: Roger Ebert. Margaret Pomeranz. David Stratton. Richard Brody. Peter Bradshaw. A.O. Scott. You get to know these people, you care what they think.

When A.O. Scott discussed his decision with Barbaro, he pointed out that it wasn’t about him, it was about the state of cinema. The critic listed some of the more influential years of film: 1999. 1939. 1962. 1974. No one is making work like that anymore.

In the past decade, it has become increasingly common for film reviewers to bemoan the state of the film industry, decrying the domination of large conglomerates producing endless franchises and sequels. Scott cited the saturation of franchise films as part of the push factor leading to his exit, the main offenders being producers of homogenised superhero fare, like DC and Warner Brothers alongside Marvel, Pixar, and their Disney overlords.

In the last few years, the correlation between commercial ascendancy and imaginative decline has been particularly striking. But what does it mean for us culturally, when arbiters of taste like film critics find that the business of film is so dominated by conglomerates pumping out a rolling sludge of tepid, shrug-inspiring franchise films that the medium itself is worth walking away from?

Maybe it’s got to do with movies not having the same kind of cultural cachet they used to. ‘The cultural space for movies I care about seems to be shrinking,’ says Scott. ‘The audience necessary to sustain original work is narcotised by algorithms or distracted by doomscrolling.’ A burning indictment, but countered in part by the rise in independent cinematic gems over the last few years like Roma, Belfast and The Irishman funded by relatively new players like Netflix. There’s no shortage in films that are surprising, moving, challenging. Maybe the problem is no one is watching them anymore. That certainly tracks against the plummeting annual viewership figures of the Academy awards.

'What does it mean for an art form

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The end of the dream job

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