Do movies reviews still matter?
Am I just some rando with an opinion and a keyboard? Or is there more to writing a movie review than that? An honest stab at questioning my job’s raison d’être.
«Who gave Luca Fontana the authority to tell us whether a movie is worth watching or not?» The above comment appeared a while back under my Predator: Badlands review, and I’ve spent more time ruminating on it than I’d care to admit.
How does a film critic like me justify their existence? Why should people listen to a handful of us when the larger audience sometimes thinks the complete opposite? At the end of the day, isn’t a movie review just one person’s opinion, worth exactly as much – or as little – as anyone else’s?
I’m going to try to answer these questions honestly. Fair warning: the answers aren’t pretty. Not for you – and not for me, either.
Who actually listens to film critics anyway?
Here’s an example that takes this question to the extreme: Michael, the biopic about Michael Jackson. On Rotten Tomatoes – a platform that aggregates critic and audience scores and distils each into a percentage – the movie scores 39 per cent with the pros and 97 per cent with audiences.
In other words, nearly ten out of ten people rating the movie liked it. In contrast, just over six out of ten critics thought it was bad. And yet – with over USD 930 million at the global box office – Michael wasn’t just one of the most successful films of the year but the highest-grossing biopic in cinema history.
How do you square that? Actually, the answer is quite simple: the audience rated a concert, while the critics rated a film. Fans hit the cinema to celebrate Michael Jackson – his moonwalk, Thriller, Billie Jean and a nephew who looks, moves and sounds like his uncle. That’s an experience that gives you goosebumps. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Cinema isn’t just about art – it’s about emotion, memory and shared experience.
It has to be.
The critics, on the other hand, spent that same evening asking a different question: is this good cinema? And on that front, Michael falls short. The screenplay, for instance, sidesteps the abuse allegations against Jackson entirely. That’s no accident – it’s a calculated decision that reportedly cost the Jackson estate an estimated $50 million, because the allegations were removed from the film after the fact.
What’s left is a glossy portrait that’s less biography and more expensive PR. That didn’t stop me from watching it three times (!) at the cinema, because I’m a massive Michael Jackson fan. But the critic in me – the one comparing Michael to biopics like Ray, Better Man or Rocketman – can’t ignore what it is. And I shouldn’t.
So, that’s what led to critics and audiences not being on the same page in this case. It wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. No wonder everyone ends up at each other’s throats!
What it actually means to write movie reviews
I write movie reviews myself – I’ve been on both sides of the divide. Under my Mandalorian review, I was accused of being on Disney’s payroll. With Scary Movie 6, I was apparently too woke, too square and too old to see straight. And more than once I’ve been told my taste is so reliably bad that I’m a reverse compass of sorts – just assume the opposite of whatever I write, and you’re guaranteed to be in for a good time.
Source: From the comments section of the Scary Movie 6 review
At the end of the day, a review is nothing more than one person’s opinion – shaped by their background, their frame of reference and the questions they’re asking. Not a one-size-fits-all verdict. It’s more of a recommendation – one you can follow or ignore.
For example: I watch far more films and series on average than someone who goes to the cinema two or three times a year. That means I have a different benchmark for what a screenplay can achieve, how a scene might be directed and what makes a performance genuinely exceptional rather than merely competent. That doesn’t make my opinion more correct. But it does make it differently informed. Like a sommelier who compares every wine against a hundred others: their opinion isn’t more sacred than mine – but it does carry a different kind of weight.
At the same time, it would be hypocritical to pretend critics are infallible. Press screenings often happen at nine in the morning, surrounded by silent colleagues keeping a poker face while scribbling notes, coffee cups rattling in hand – not exactly the atmosphere a horror movie or a comedy was made for.
Source: Luca Fontana
Then there’s the time pressure. A review has to go live the moment the embargo lifts. But there are usually only a few hours between the press screening and the international deadline. Even that’s generous. There’s no time to sleep on a film, let alone let it sink in.
I know what I’m talking about. I’m still embarrassed by my review of Dune: Part One, because I genuinely questioned Denis Villeneuve’s genius at the time. The problem wasn’t the movie. The problem was me: the press screening was first thing in the morning. And after a bad night’s sleep, I was sat at my desk exactly 30 minutes after the credits rolled, heavy-eyed, trying to make sense of an epic in two hours – trying to make sense of a film that needs days to sink in.
How can that possibly go well?
Here’s the truth: I had a bad day and wrote a review I’m not proud of. And it’s not the only one. Time and again I stumble across old reviews I’ve written, shake my head and wonder what on earth got into me that day.
«Why don’t you just wait a day or two before writing and publishing your review then?» you ask.
Because I’d get penalised by the internet algorithm. If my piece isn’t part of the first wave of reviews that goes live when the worldwide embargo drops, it loses reach – noticeably and measurably. And reach is everything if my fellow critics and I want to make a living from reviewing movies and series.
The real culprit
Reach. Algorithms. The disagreement between critics and audiences is as old as cinema itself – and fundamentally healthy. What’s changed is the system in which that disagreement plays out.
Platforms like YouTube, TikTok and Instagram don’t reward nuance. They reward extremes. A video titled «Star Wars is Dead!!» gets more clicks than «Our balanced take on the new Star Wars movie». And a review that shouts holds your attention longer than one that discusses in a measured voice. The algorithm isn’t blind to this – and promotes the content accordingly, because it monetises better. And this is how content creators – whether they like it or not – are pushed towards extremism.
Strong opinions, harsh verdicts and clear-cut enemies. A potent cocktail.
Audiences respond in kind. When you’re used to consuming extreme opinions, you hit back just as hard. People wind each other up in the comments, the tone grows rougher, and before long a register that should be anything but normal starts to feel normal. The anonymity of the internet does the rest. The most hateful comments go unpunished – and anyone who dares delete them is immediately accused of «censorship».
The result is that critics and audiences – who actually want the same things, that is, good films, genuine opinions and lively debate – end up facing each other like rival factions.
The system profits when disagreement turns into outrage.
I fall onto this hamster wheel sometimes too. I genuinely try not to write clickbait – let alone ragebait. But if I’m honest, there are headlines where I’ve realised after the fact that I phrased things more sharply than necessary. The internet exerts a quiet, constant pressure that feels so normal I barely notice it anymore. In the end, I’m caught in the very system I’m criticising.
What now?
I’ll keep writing film reviews. I’ll keep holding opinions that not everyone agrees with. And I’ll keep getting comments telling me I’ve been bought and paid for, that I’m too woke or only useful as a reverse compass.
I can live with that. What concerns me more is that there’s increasingly little room for nuanced opinions. For verdicts that say «good, but with some weak points». Or «I get why fans love this, even if it’s technically weak». For reviews that don’t shout – but explain.
In my film and series reviews, I don’t want to tell you what to like. I want to give you context so you can make your own informed decision about whether to watch the movie or series. And the best case? You come back to my review and share your thoughts – whether you agree with me or not.
And we can have an interesting discussion.
I write about technology as if it were cinema, and about films as if they were real life. Between bits and blockbusters, I’m after stories that move people, not just generate clicks. And yes – sometimes I listen to film scores louder than I probably should.
This is a subjective opinion of the editorial team. It doesn't necessarily reflect the position of the company.
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