Hulk realizes that there is nothing more misleading than calling something “an art film,” but that’s just because we have a lot of different ideas about what that actually means. To some it means the kind of films that are pure abstraction. To others, it means any movie that isn’t commercial. And as much as Hulk likes to yap on about the so-called “basics” of blockbusters, what with their maximizing of tension and manufacturing of drama, there is the equally critical arena of filmmaking that is designed to thoroughly engage our minds and maybe even bind them to our hearts. That’s the “art” part of it. And critics can either be at their best and worst with these kinds of films. They can thumb their nose. They can call it pretentious. They can adore what they see, but still render it impenetrable to others by leaving the description of said film awash in a sea of vague superlatives. Or we can transcend that and somehow zero in to express the crystal clear ethos of a work’s probable intention. Or we can adopt a sense of poetics and somehow describe the indescribable. To parse all that out is often difficult. Maybe impossible. And it’s why no criticism will ever be as pure as the work itself.

FilmCritHulk (x)