On Judging Movies, Part 2:
Putting First Things First
In Part 1 we looked at the reasons why excitement is not an indispensable ingredient of good movies. I do not argue the opposite, of course; excitement isn’t always unnecessary. Admittedly, it is crucial to some stories. Still, excitement, or lack thereof, is not what keeps us coming back to our favorite films again and again.
In my examination of movie criticism, I have used the 1979 film, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, as a kind of case study. Some people consider ST:TMP a relatively bad movie. A common argument is that TMP lacks excitement: people feel that its scenes are too monotonous and slow-paced. But excitement must not take priority. In fact, stories have several elements — characterization, setting, dialogue, and so on — and none of them should be considered first things.
Compare Moviemaking to Cooking
Movies, like soup, have several ingredients. A good cook should not give any one ingredient priority over the dish itself. If a chef loses focus and mistakenly considers the consumption of salt the main purpose of his cooking, he will end up with soup that is too salty. In other words, salt must accommodate the soup; soup does not exist to give people a reason to eat salt.
Suspense, like salt, is essential as long as it is in its proper place — it should serve a story, not use it. We have to have better rationale than “it’s slow and lacks action” to explain why a film is bad. Such criticisms beg the question: Why, exactly, does a lack of excitement make a particular film bad? (If your answer is, “because all movies, as a rule, require exciting movement to be good”, re-read Part 1.) Criticizing movies for not having roller-coaster thrills is like saying that nobody would prefer saltless dishes. The addition of more excitement for the sake of excitement is one way in which we worsen a movie (whether or not the movie is already good to begin with).
Story is the First Thing
If the main purpose of films is to tell stories,[1] then every element in a film must be there for the sake of the story, not vice versa. Excitement, in fact, isn’t the only cinematic ingredient that people inappropriately put on a pedestal. For example, sometimes they ruinously demand that a story be there for the sake of the characters, which the late Leonard Nimoy unfortunately did when criticizing TMP.[2]
Nimoy, a veteran actor of Star Trek who is widely known for his famous character, Spock, decided to change some of his lines with a Spock-esque joke in order to capture “the right ‘feel’ of the characters and relationships from the [original television] series”.[3] Director, Robert Wise, gently rejected his suggestion and asked him to stick to the script. Wise was correct to think that the change, for the character’s sake, would have been “inappropriate in light of what’s gone before” [4] in the story: the character ought to be there for the story’s sake, not vice versa, otherwise the whole story is tarnished, like a bowl of soup with too much salt.
There are consequences when we put elements of a story before the story itself: focus on characters or suspense (Second Things), at the expense of the story (the First Thing), risks turning a movie into a medium for something other than a story. It would be like cooks of an Italian restaurant adding a large amount of kimchi to pizza so that it would appeal to Korean guests — but the pizza would no longer be Italian. Koreans intending to experience an authentic Mediterranean taste would be out of luck. Moviegoers intending to see the world through different eyes would be shortchanged if out-of-place action and obtrusive characters buried a storyteller’s narrative.
Actors of TMP, William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy, have said that the studios demanded a “special-effects extravaganza”.[5] That is, they suggest that its story took a back seat to the effects shots. Their criticism supports my argument about putting first things first: they agree that stories ought to organize, and not be organized by, the cinematic ingredients. If they are right about ST:TMP’s special effects eclipsing the story, they have a good reason for criticizing the film.
But their objection to Star Trek’s special effects still misses the point.
It is evident that their criticism comes from a desire for more excitement. They are merely valuing one Second Thing (fast-paced action) over another Second Thing (special effects), and they are not keeping the First Thing (the story itself) in mind. The special effects support the story. Cutting them from the film would change the story, as kimchi would change Italian food. The director, Robert Wise, even admits that “there was no way to tell this particular story without”[6] the effects. It is this particular story, which would not exist without the effects, that appeals to so many people.
Questions to Ask Before Judging a Movie
1. Identify the Story (Determine The Cuisine)
What is a filmmaker saying? What is he or she suggesting?
2. Be Aware of the Subordinate Elements (Examine The Ingredients)
How is a filmmaker expressing the Story?
3. Be Mindful of the Ideal Ratio of Components (Know The Recipe)
Do the cinematic elements support the story?
Receive Films, Don’t Use Them
Movies with disproportionately elevated Second Things might appeal to us for a short time, but once they’re used — like a pack of cigarettes — they get tossed. In order for a film to continually appeal on a deeper level, (1) its story must be the First Thing, and (2) people must receive it rather than use it. A good filmmaker allows a story itself to be desirable. He or she doesn’t use a story only as a vehicle to provide goodies — for instance, psychological or physical stimulation, the demand for beloved characters, or information that quenches curiosity.
The ancient Greek philosopher, Aristotle, had pointed out that good things must be good in themselves, or at least be once removed from final goodness.[7] For example, happiness is good in itself — we want It, happiness itself, not some product of happiness. When, for instance, we watch a movie just to excite our libidos, it is not the film, itself, we want but the pleasure that it provides. If a work is valued merely for its results, it is a frying pan for the food, not the food itself.
For a carpenter and a geometer investigate the right angle in different ways; the former does so in so far as the right angle is useful for his work, while the latter inquires what it is or what sort of thing it is; for he is a spectator of the truth. We must act in the same way.[8]
Aristotle is right. We should watch movies as spectators, not users. Works that put Second Things first belong to the class of phone books, crossword puzzles, and paper cups. Such movies give us very little reason to re-watch them: used things are usually disposable.
We have tracked cinematic goodness to its hideout: it lives within a film’s story. But we have not yet found the root to good movies. Making a story the First Thing will not always guarantee a win. Not all stories, even in their proper places, are good; there are many well-executed films that have unattractive stories.
Now that we have an idea about how good movies are made possible, please check out Part 3 to learn the essential qualities of a good story.
© 2016, Daniel Asperheim
[1] Merriam-Webster, “movie” (accessed Feb. 2016), http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/movie
[2] Leonard Nimoy, I Am Spock (New York: Hyperion, 1995), 170–1.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Nimoy, I Am Spock, 172, 245. Also see Shatner, Star Trek Movie Memories, 63.
[6] William Shatner, Star Trek Memories, with Chris Kreski (New York: HarperCollins, 2009), 95.
[7] Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics, tr. David Ross (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), pages 10–11, book 1, section 7.
[8] Ibid., 12, 1.7.
