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The Good, The Bad and The Multiplex: What's Wrong With Modern Movies?
In It's Only a Movie, the incomparable Mark Kermode showed us the weird world of a film critic's life lived in widescreen. Now, in The Good, The Bad and The Multiplex, he takes us into the belly of the beast to ask: 'What's wrong with modern movies?'
If blockbusters make money no matter how bad they are, then why not make a good one for a change? How can 3-D be the future of cinema when it's been giving audiences a headache for over a hundred years? Why pay to watch films in cinemas that don't have a projectionist but do have a fast-food stand? And, in a world in which Sex and the City 2 was a hit, what the hell are film critics for?
Outspoken, opinionated and hilariously funny, The Good, The Bad and The Multiplex is a must for anyone who has ever sat in an undermanned, overpriced cinema and asked themselves: 'How the hell did things get to be this terrible?'
If blockbusters make money no matter how bad they are, then why not make a good one for a change? How can 3-D be the future of cinema when it's been giving audiences a headache for over a hundred years? Why pay to watch films in cinemas that don't have a projectionist but do have a fast-food stand? And, in a world in which Sex and the City 2 was a hit, what the hell are film critics for?
Outspoken, opinionated and hilariously funny, The Good, The Bad and The Multiplex is a must for anyone who has ever sat in an undermanned, overpriced cinema and asked themselves: 'How the hell did things get to be this terrible?'
328 pages, Paperback
First published August 31, 2011
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646 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 191 reviews
October 26, 2023
Mark Kermode's quite funny, cutting and yet wonderfully informative and entertaining look at the digital age of cinema, film making, awards etc. I really liked this book, but I am a 'fan' of Mark Kermode, so possibly biased? 8 out of 12, funny Four Stars
2013 read
2013 read
January 26, 2020
Mark Kermode, when he is explaining how even bad blockbuster movies rarely lose money, says that the movie companies tend to pull quotes out of context from even the worst reviews and put them on posters – no, do they really?
E.g. Trevor Johnson's Time Out review of The Color of Night began:
Hypnotic. Compelling. Stunning. Bruce Willis' latest crime against celluloid is a special kind of bad.
This was turned into – you guessed it -
"Hypnotic. Compelling. Stunning."- Time Out.
So, I wondered if the same thing could be done to my one-star reviews. And it could!
Frisk by Dennis Cooper
Might even be a classic
context:
This book serves no purpose, except maybe, you know, if people like to read about torturing boys to death. I mean, some people might. So to them, it's good. Might even be a classic, I guess.
Earthy Powers by Anthony Burgess
wordsmithery and large braininess
context:
But really, wordsmithery and large braininess will not save a book from the wall-hurl.
Possession by A S Byatt
you can feel the throb of the author's perfervid intelligence
context:
you can feel the throb of the author's perfervid intelligence like a lawnmower hacking away at the tough grass at the edge of the lawn but after all of that you have to come clean and say that Possession isn't worth the thinnest novelette written by Raymond Chandler or the most offhand poem by e e cummings or the most obscure B side by the Beach Boys either.
The Sea Came in at Midnight by Steve Erickson
blazingly honest
context
By contrast with all this Blue Velvet, Last Tango in Paris, Secretary-style art, porn is blazingly honest.
The Mad Man by Samuel R Delany
legitimate cultural exploration
context:
All this stuff is legitimate cultural exploration. I'm broadening my entrenched working class sensibilities. I'm......Well, sometimes it's true. But sometimes it's just a grossfest. As in the present instance
Extinction by Thomas Bernhard
you know you are in the presence of a master and that this is great literature
context:
When you are having such an entirely miserable, entirely lonely, entirely teeth-grinding time reading a novel, when groans and hisses and yelps issue involuntarily from you as you turn the page, you know you are in the presence of a master and that this is great literature.
****
Mark Kermode is a man with a big quiff like Eddie Cochran in 1957 & is probably Britain's foremost film critic and he's not so bad, certainly quite a motormouth, and he's all over youtube should you want to check him out. But this book presents us with the the grumpy old man side of Mark Kermode, which turns out to be just as boring as any other grumpy old man. And he's not that old.
A great amount of this present volume is spent bleating and moaning about how terrible everything to do with movies is now from the ratios to the way tickets are sold to the decline and fall of the projectionist, the junk food concessions, the ghastly films they make nowadays and how much better everything was in 1955 which is where I hoped, when I was reading this, someone would be able to take Mark Kermode and leave him, immediately.
But there are a couple of interesting points.
BLOCKBUSTERS
Mark says they're all dreadful and aimed at 13 year old boys, and the major problem is, they can't lose money. Even famous tankers like Waterworld, Ishtar and Hudson Hawk eventually made a profit, from dvd sales. Why? Because of something peculiar in the dvd audience – they don't care whether a movie is good or bad, when they buy it they probably can't remember, they just know that they've heard of it. So they give it a whirl. And terrible movies thereby make money.
Mark says blockbusters can be good though and gives one example : Inception.
PIRACY
Mark says that when the studio bosses say that piracy is going to wreck movies, they're lying through their fat coke-sodden mouths. They're all floating in a Dead Sea of cash making movies which however bad don't lose money.
WHAT ARE FILM CRITICS FOR ANYWAY?
Or, you might say, book critics. Or Goodreads reviewers.
Mark's honest opinion of actor Danny Dyer in Pimp earned him a rant from Mr Dyer (on Youtube) including "Mark Kermode? If I come across you I'll put something right across your fucking canister" and MK then explains that film critics do get invited to film bashes and free screenings and the meet the talent & so do run the risk of physical violence from some annoyed director or another.
(If this happened in the world of Goodreads at the next Grand Reviewers Ball there would be a nasty scene in an alleyway round the back where Italo Calvino and Paul Auster would be holding my arms while Brett Easton Ellis ran to his car to get his blowtorch.)
END TITLES
MK has some reasonably worthwhile points to make, he loves his movies, and he's not the worst person in the world, but about 90% of this book is unfunny blather blather blather. I know that probably means that when he sees me next he'll put something across my fucking canister but that's the risks you take when you're a goodreads reviewer.
POSTER QUOTE
you can feel the throb of the author's perfervid intelligence
– Goodreads
E.g. Trevor Johnson's Time Out review of The Color of Night began:
Hypnotic. Compelling. Stunning. Bruce Willis' latest crime against celluloid is a special kind of bad.
This was turned into – you guessed it -
"Hypnotic. Compelling. Stunning."- Time Out.
So, I wondered if the same thing could be done to my one-star reviews. And it could!
Frisk by Dennis Cooper
Might even be a classic
context:
This book serves no purpose, except maybe, you know, if people like to read about torturing boys to death. I mean, some people might. So to them, it's good. Might even be a classic, I guess.
Earthy Powers by Anthony Burgess
wordsmithery and large braininess
context:
But really, wordsmithery and large braininess will not save a book from the wall-hurl.
Possession by A S Byatt
you can feel the throb of the author's perfervid intelligence
context:
you can feel the throb of the author's perfervid intelligence like a lawnmower hacking away at the tough grass at the edge of the lawn but after all of that you have to come clean and say that Possession isn't worth the thinnest novelette written by Raymond Chandler or the most offhand poem by e e cummings or the most obscure B side by the Beach Boys either.
The Sea Came in at Midnight by Steve Erickson
blazingly honest
context
By contrast with all this Blue Velvet, Last Tango in Paris, Secretary-style art, porn is blazingly honest.
The Mad Man by Samuel R Delany
legitimate cultural exploration
context:
All this stuff is legitimate cultural exploration. I'm broadening my entrenched working class sensibilities. I'm......Well, sometimes it's true. But sometimes it's just a grossfest. As in the present instance
Extinction by Thomas Bernhard
you know you are in the presence of a master and that this is great literature
context:
When you are having such an entirely miserable, entirely lonely, entirely teeth-grinding time reading a novel, when groans and hisses and yelps issue involuntarily from you as you turn the page, you know you are in the presence of a master and that this is great literature.
****
Mark Kermode is a man with a big quiff like Eddie Cochran in 1957 & is probably Britain's foremost film critic and he's not so bad, certainly quite a motormouth, and he's all over youtube should you want to check him out. But this book presents us with the the grumpy old man side of Mark Kermode, which turns out to be just as boring as any other grumpy old man. And he's not that old.
A great amount of this present volume is spent bleating and moaning about how terrible everything to do with movies is now from the ratios to the way tickets are sold to the decline and fall of the projectionist, the junk food concessions, the ghastly films they make nowadays and how much better everything was in 1955 which is where I hoped, when I was reading this, someone would be able to take Mark Kermode and leave him, immediately.
But there are a couple of interesting points.
BLOCKBUSTERS
Mark says they're all dreadful and aimed at 13 year old boys, and the major problem is, they can't lose money. Even famous tankers like Waterworld, Ishtar and Hudson Hawk eventually made a profit, from dvd sales. Why? Because of something peculiar in the dvd audience – they don't care whether a movie is good or bad, when they buy it they probably can't remember, they just know that they've heard of it. So they give it a whirl. And terrible movies thereby make money.
Mark says blockbusters can be good though and gives one example : Inception.
PIRACY
Mark says that when the studio bosses say that piracy is going to wreck movies, they're lying through their fat coke-sodden mouths. They're all floating in a Dead Sea of cash making movies which however bad don't lose money.
WHAT ARE FILM CRITICS FOR ANYWAY?
Or, you might say, book critics. Or Goodreads reviewers.
Mark's honest opinion of actor Danny Dyer in Pimp earned him a rant from Mr Dyer (on Youtube) including "Mark Kermode? If I come across you I'll put something right across your fucking canister" and MK then explains that film critics do get invited to film bashes and free screenings and the meet the talent & so do run the risk of physical violence from some annoyed director or another.
(If this happened in the world of Goodreads at the next Grand Reviewers Ball there would be a nasty scene in an alleyway round the back where Italo Calvino and Paul Auster would be holding my arms while Brett Easton Ellis ran to his car to get his blowtorch.)
END TITLES
MK has some reasonably worthwhile points to make, he loves his movies, and he's not the worst person in the world, but about 90% of this book is unfunny blather blather blather. I know that probably means that when he sees me next he'll put something across my fucking canister but that's the risks you take when you're a goodreads reviewer.
POSTER QUOTE
you can feel the throb of the author's perfervid intelligence
– Goodreads
September 1, 2016
I’ve been generally well inclined towards Mark Kermode ever since the early nineties, when I was a student and he was working for Radio One, and myself and a few others had to explain to him who The Lemonheads were before he interviewed them later that day. (His wife was my tutor, hence the connection). I listen to him on Radio Five-Live, I read his reviews in The Observer and now I’m reading his book.
Actually I couldn’t decide whether it was more a collection of articles, or a segment of one massive book. The various essays here do reference each other frequently (which, to me, makes it a proper book rather than just a collection), but they also reference chapters in the previous book (‘It’s Only a Movie’, which I haven’t read), just as I’m sure the next book (‘Hatchet Job’, which I also haven’t read) references chapters in this one. So, I think this is part two of one giant opus, that will no doubt be collected together in one huge volume in years to come, just like ‘The Lord of the Rings’ – although probably without the nine-hour movie adaptation.
So, what’s it like?
This is a witty if a self-confessed curmudgeonly view of the state of cinema. We have here a middle-aged man moaning about how things aren’t what they used to be. Some of his arguments carry water: why do some people get so upset if a critic doesn’t like the same film they like? A critic may be someone who has seen a lot of films and can put it in a wider context, but it’s still just one person’s opinion. If their emotional reaction to it is not the same as yours, then it really doesn’t matter. (I read recently of a film critic receiving a death threat for negatively reviewing ‘Man of Steel’, which anyway you look at it is insane). Other gripes, like blockbusters being rubbish and multiplexes being a soulless, corporate experience because studios are just interested in making money – well, weren’t film studios always more interested in selling popcorn than movies? It’s just that they’ve got more sophisticated at it with each passing year. I’m sure in the 1970s of Kermode’s youth, there were people saying that the 1930s was a purer and less commercial age for movies.
However, the underlying theme of this book isn’t despair or dissatisfaction, it’s love. Yes, things might not be what they used to be, but Kermode still has a childlike love of cinema. He wants film and the film-going experience to be the best it can be and when it isn’t – when it’s let down by people loudly eating nachos and cheese in the row behind, or dodgy sound, or the existence of Michael Bay films – then the disappointment is tangible. This is a man who adores cinema, who worships it and wants it to be forever wonderful – and that love means, for all his moans and groans, that this is a book where for all its attempt to rile, positivity still overwhelms the negativity.
Actually I couldn’t decide whether it was more a collection of articles, or a segment of one massive book. The various essays here do reference each other frequently (which, to me, makes it a proper book rather than just a collection), but they also reference chapters in the previous book (‘It’s Only a Movie’, which I haven’t read), just as I’m sure the next book (‘Hatchet Job’, which I also haven’t read) references chapters in this one. So, I think this is part two of one giant opus, that will no doubt be collected together in one huge volume in years to come, just like ‘The Lord of the Rings’ – although probably without the nine-hour movie adaptation.
So, what’s it like?
This is a witty if a self-confessed curmudgeonly view of the state of cinema. We have here a middle-aged man moaning about how things aren’t what they used to be. Some of his arguments carry water: why do some people get so upset if a critic doesn’t like the same film they like? A critic may be someone who has seen a lot of films and can put it in a wider context, but it’s still just one person’s opinion. If their emotional reaction to it is not the same as yours, then it really doesn’t matter. (I read recently of a film critic receiving a death threat for negatively reviewing ‘Man of Steel’, which anyway you look at it is insane). Other gripes, like blockbusters being rubbish and multiplexes being a soulless, corporate experience because studios are just interested in making money – well, weren’t film studios always more interested in selling popcorn than movies? It’s just that they’ve got more sophisticated at it with each passing year. I’m sure in the 1970s of Kermode’s youth, there were people saying that the 1930s was a purer and less commercial age for movies.
However, the underlying theme of this book isn’t despair or dissatisfaction, it’s love. Yes, things might not be what they used to be, but Kermode still has a childlike love of cinema. He wants film and the film-going experience to be the best it can be and when it isn’t – when it’s let down by people loudly eating nachos and cheese in the row behind, or dodgy sound, or the existence of Michael Bay films – then the disappointment is tangible. This is a man who adores cinema, who worships it and wants it to be forever wonderful – and that love means, for all his moans and groans, that this is a book where for all its attempt to rile, positivity still overwhelms the negativity.
August 25, 2012
At some point in time, I decided I didn't like Mark Kermode. I have a memory of watching his enthusiastic introduction to The Exorcist and subsequently watching the film and just not getting it. A similar experience took place with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. His reviews can be tough and he probably disliked something I loved and so I got it into my head that he wasn't a critic I cared for.
Yet I picked up The Good, the Bad and the Multiplex, having been intrigued by the blurb when I encountered the book at the BFI shop (*cough cough* I am a film geek). And I was hooked pretty much from the start.
I loved Kermode's writing style. He has a very distinctive voice that made me feel less like I was reading and more like I was having an interesting discussion with a friend. From his vivid recounting of film experiences to incisive discussions about why blockbusters will always succeed no matter how poor the reception, he made my little geeky heart pulse with joy. Though I didn't agree with everything he said (crucially, I WAS a teenage girl when Titanic came out, so, y'know...) he got me thinking about cinema in new and different ways and I will be seeking out his other books.
I will also be watching SATC 2 this weekend - sorry Mark, you fired my curiosity - surely it can't be THAT bad...???!
Yet I picked up The Good, the Bad and the Multiplex, having been intrigued by the blurb when I encountered the book at the BFI shop (*cough cough* I am a film geek). And I was hooked pretty much from the start.
I loved Kermode's writing style. He has a very distinctive voice that made me feel less like I was reading and more like I was having an interesting discussion with a friend. From his vivid recounting of film experiences to incisive discussions about why blockbusters will always succeed no matter how poor the reception, he made my little geeky heart pulse with joy. Though I didn't agree with everything he said (crucially, I WAS a teenage girl when Titanic came out, so, y'know...) he got me thinking about cinema in new and different ways and I will be seeking out his other books.
I will also be watching SATC 2 this weekend - sorry Mark, you fired my curiosity - surely it can't be THAT bad...???!
September 11, 2011
I was sent this book by Random House Publishers in exchange for an honest review. I am a fan of movies and I love going to the cinema, although I don't get there nearly as much as I would like.
Mark Kermode is a film critic, he's been in this job for around 25 years and has seen a wide range of movies over the years. In this book he discusses how cinema has changed over the years, why modern movies are so bad, and what film critics are really for.
I love his sense of humour in this book, he has a great wit and way of describing events and movies. I actually laughed out loud at parts of this book, especially a certain scene with him trying to book online tickets and fighting with his computer.
I will admit he went down slightly in my estimation when he confessed, a) that he is a massive Zac Effron fan- now while I have no real problem with Zac, I don't see what all the fuss is about, yeah he's a decent actor and I can see why children think he is good looking but he isn't anything to shout about. b) he doesn't like Pirates of the Carribean - how can you not like these? they are epic!!! c) he thinks Twilight is better than Titanic - now I'm not a mass fan of Titanic but it wasn't bad, whereas Twilight is the worst thing ever invented. (I don't want to insult anyone here, and I know there are mass debates concerning the sparkly vampires, so I'm not going into too much here, it's just my opinion)
Putting these differences aside, I found Mark Kermode rather likeable and I actually wanted to hear what he had to say. I was cheering his review of Sex and the City 2 and hooked by his explanation of how cinema has evolved.
This is of course non-fiction but it reads as though Mark is talking to you, laced with his humour it is really easy to read.
I learnt quite a bit in this book and was shocked by how much some movies have cost. I agree with him when he says - if they cost that much why aren't they better. And why are cinemas more expensive these days when there are less people working there? If you love film, cinemas or movies of any sort you should read this book, it will make you think again about what you are experiencing.
Mark Kermode is a film critic, he's been in this job for around 25 years and has seen a wide range of movies over the years. In this book he discusses how cinema has changed over the years, why modern movies are so bad, and what film critics are really for.
I love his sense of humour in this book, he has a great wit and way of describing events and movies. I actually laughed out loud at parts of this book, especially a certain scene with him trying to book online tickets and fighting with his computer.
I will admit he went down slightly in my estimation when he confessed, a) that he is a massive Zac Effron fan- now while I have no real problem with Zac, I don't see what all the fuss is about, yeah he's a decent actor and I can see why children think he is good looking but he isn't anything to shout about. b) he doesn't like Pirates of the Carribean - how can you not like these? they are epic!!! c) he thinks Twilight is better than Titanic - now I'm not a mass fan of Titanic but it wasn't bad, whereas Twilight is the worst thing ever invented. (I don't want to insult anyone here, and I know there are mass debates concerning the sparkly vampires, so I'm not going into too much here, it's just my opinion)
Putting these differences aside, I found Mark Kermode rather likeable and I actually wanted to hear what he had to say. I was cheering his review of Sex and the City 2 and hooked by his explanation of how cinema has evolved.
This is of course non-fiction but it reads as though Mark is talking to you, laced with his humour it is really easy to read.
I learnt quite a bit in this book and was shocked by how much some movies have cost. I agree with him when he says - if they cost that much why aren't they better. And why are cinemas more expensive these days when there are less people working there? If you love film, cinemas or movies of any sort you should read this book, it will make you think again about what you are experiencing.
October 4, 2013
Easy-to-read and, on the whole, comprised of decent information, argument and analysis. Word of warning though - skip chapter one!
That chapter, about Kermode making a fictitious trip to the cinema, is written in the most toe-curlingly straining-for-humour manner imaginable and nearly led to me casting the book aside. I'm glad I didn't though because the following chapters, which looked in turn at the economics of blockbuster movies, the inevitable decline of 3-D, the showbiz world's bizarre fixation on the Oscars and the English-speaking world's rejection of subtitled cinema, were fascinating and full of intriguing titbits of information.
But it was ironic that Kermode spent quite a bit of chapter two rubbishing blockbuster comedies for spectacularly failing to be funny after having himself spent the best part of 50 pages doing exactly the same thing.
Also, I take issue with Kermode's slagging off of Sex Lives of the Potato Men - one of the best British films of the past 20 years, hands down. But that's by the by...
All in all, this book's a pretty good read for anyone with a reasonable interest in cinema, who might like to have the cruddy state of modern movies put into context. Probably a bit lightweight for serious cinephiles but a good reference for the rest of us, which reads like a series of extended magazine articles.
Oh, and Kermode does his nowadays inevitable pro-Twilight thing again a few times in this book. Not a big deal but worth mentioning nonetheless for the benefit of anyone who, like me, finds that whole part of his shtick a bit stale and annoying.
That chapter, about Kermode making a fictitious trip to the cinema, is written in the most toe-curlingly straining-for-humour manner imaginable and nearly led to me casting the book aside. I'm glad I didn't though because the following chapters, which looked in turn at the economics of blockbuster movies, the inevitable decline of 3-D, the showbiz world's bizarre fixation on the Oscars and the English-speaking world's rejection of subtitled cinema, were fascinating and full of intriguing titbits of information.
But it was ironic that Kermode spent quite a bit of chapter two rubbishing blockbuster comedies for spectacularly failing to be funny after having himself spent the best part of 50 pages doing exactly the same thing.
Also, I take issue with Kermode's slagging off of Sex Lives of the Potato Men - one of the best British films of the past 20 years, hands down. But that's by the by...
All in all, this book's a pretty good read for anyone with a reasonable interest in cinema, who might like to have the cruddy state of modern movies put into context. Probably a bit lightweight for serious cinephiles but a good reference for the rest of us, which reads like a series of extended magazine articles.
Oh, and Kermode does his nowadays inevitable pro-Twilight thing again a few times in this book. Not a big deal but worth mentioning nonetheless for the benefit of anyone who, like me, finds that whole part of his shtick a bit stale and annoying.
February 11, 2022
I like his reviews but this book is full of negative energy and anecdotes yer da would find relatable
The part about the point of film critics is v interesting
The part about the point of film critics is v interesting
October 6, 2015
Mark Kermode is easily my favorite film critic - his scathing reviews of Michael Bay movies and the Pirates of the Caribbean series are enough to earn him endless amounts of respect from me. This is the first book I've read of his, and I'm pleased to report he's just as engaging in this format.
The book does ramble at times, but outside of the first chapter that didn't detract from the overall read. His passion for film is incredibly infectious. Recommended for anyone interested in becoming less "mindless" about the way you watch movies
The book does ramble at times, but outside of the first chapter that didn't detract from the overall read. His passion for film is incredibly infectious. Recommended for anyone interested in becoming less "mindless" about the way you watch movies
April 26, 2017
A wonderful read where The Good Doctor puts across his points and views about the modern state of cinema the only way he can: through well composed sentences, humorous witticisms and entertaining personal anecdotes. A terrific read.
December 17, 2017
This book gets 3.5 stars, damn you goodreads.
If you enjoy Mark Kermode's reviews or rants on cinema, "The Good, the Bad, and the Multiplex" won't disappoint. So what is contained in the book is, firstly, a long story about Mr. Kermode taking his daughter to see a Zac Efron movie (who he goes on about, especially Zac's "hair", to the point of mental health concern) and experiences every terrible thing you could imagine going to see a digital print of a movie after trying to buy tickets online and then discovering that ushers no longer exist, that the digital print is cut off and in the wrong aspect ratio, and the cinema staff (surprise) are clueless and don't know how to help - and so on goes his trip. Did this happen? Probably not, but his writing is entertaining enough to make you believe for awhile that it did because, sadly, these experiences do happen, just maybe not all at once unless Kermode just got far unluckier than the rest of us.
Next up is a solid argument for why blockbuster movies can and should be better--he cites the fact that even nonsense like "Waterworld" recouped its losses with DVD sales and, in this case, an amusement park ride.
The following chapter is something I don't think he's going to get any detractors about: 3D is shit. We all know this, I hope. Even the people I had to see the 3 or 4 3D movies with hated the experience and we all universally got migraines so it's pretty obvious, despite James Cameron's loud mouth saying otherwise, that 3D is shit and currently is dying.
Then we have a chapter on funding, specifically British movies, of course. He makes some solid points but let me challenge him on this one: Kermode, having written for Fangoria in the past (a fact he surprisingly doesn't mention, for once, in this book) and so thinks it's a good idea for up-and-coming first time directors to be funded money to make a horror movie. Now, as much as I love the horror genre and would love this to happen, the problem is, like Mark, I spent a lot of years reviewing horror movies and not a single independent director that released a movie in that time has ever broken out of the direct-to-video horror market or made a name for themselves. And while Kermode cites Coppola and other's that began with Corman, and I'd throw in Cronenberg, the fact is is that, despite these young directors making horror movies and not getting anywhere, has anyone been on amazon video or netflix or a pirate site and seen the sheer number of DTV horror movies that are flooding the video rental services? Could even a David Cronenberg be spotted and dragged out of such a massive heap of garbage? Let's all remember Cronenberg's first government-finded movie , "Shivers", boasts some lovely special effects and a nice setting, but is basically an adolescent-brain trying to tackle sexual politics and getting sex confused with rape and, not as bad but still a weak point, only offering one character to care about in all that mess and he's not even that likeable--so the question to you Mark is just that, and I'd submit that it is no longer possible for his idea of saving movies and getting more funding will work, period.
Also in this last chapter he bemoans how the Americans have destroyed subtitled movies by remaking them and also putting blame on multiplexes for not showing them--there's some good points here, but he also goes off the rails a bit, especially when kvetching about Haneke remaking his own movie but, to each their own.
I did read this in three sittings and could've read it in one and the reading was enjoyable and never boring and this book would surely get a higher rating if the topics were either more interesting to me (3D is just shit, I don't need a chapter to remind me, although I did get a bit of a nice history lesson in the process, albeit one I already knew) or if he included a bit more history opposed to wit. Still, this book does have history, and he manages to spin a yarn out of our worst fears about going to the cinema in the digital age, and, ultimately, this book remains a delight.
If you enjoy Mark Kermode's reviews or rants on cinema, "The Good, the Bad, and the Multiplex" won't disappoint. So what is contained in the book is, firstly, a long story about Mr. Kermode taking his daughter to see a Zac Efron movie (who he goes on about, especially Zac's "hair", to the point of mental health concern) and experiences every terrible thing you could imagine going to see a digital print of a movie after trying to buy tickets online and then discovering that ushers no longer exist, that the digital print is cut off and in the wrong aspect ratio, and the cinema staff (surprise) are clueless and don't know how to help - and so on goes his trip. Did this happen? Probably not, but his writing is entertaining enough to make you believe for awhile that it did because, sadly, these experiences do happen, just maybe not all at once unless Kermode just got far unluckier than the rest of us.
Next up is a solid argument for why blockbuster movies can and should be better--he cites the fact that even nonsense like "Waterworld" recouped its losses with DVD sales and, in this case, an amusement park ride.
The following chapter is something I don't think he's going to get any detractors about: 3D is shit. We all know this, I hope. Even the people I had to see the 3 or 4 3D movies with hated the experience and we all universally got migraines so it's pretty obvious, despite James Cameron's loud mouth saying otherwise, that 3D is shit and currently is dying.
Then we have a chapter on funding, specifically British movies, of course. He makes some solid points but let me challenge him on this one: Kermode, having written for Fangoria in the past (a fact he surprisingly doesn't mention, for once, in this book) and so thinks it's a good idea for up-and-coming first time directors to be funded money to make a horror movie. Now, as much as I love the horror genre and would love this to happen, the problem is, like Mark, I spent a lot of years reviewing horror movies and not a single independent director that released a movie in that time has ever broken out of the direct-to-video horror market or made a name for themselves. And while Kermode cites Coppola and other's that began with Corman, and I'd throw in Cronenberg, the fact is is that, despite these young directors making horror movies and not getting anywhere, has anyone been on amazon video or netflix or a pirate site and seen the sheer number of DTV horror movies that are flooding the video rental services? Could even a David Cronenberg be spotted and dragged out of such a massive heap of garbage? Let's all remember Cronenberg's first government-finded movie , "Shivers", boasts some lovely special effects and a nice setting, but is basically an adolescent-brain trying to tackle sexual politics and getting sex confused with rape and, not as bad but still a weak point, only offering one character to care about in all that mess and he's not even that likeable--so the question to you Mark is just that, and I'd submit that it is no longer possible for his idea of saving movies and getting more funding will work, period.
Also in this last chapter he bemoans how the Americans have destroyed subtitled movies by remaking them and also putting blame on multiplexes for not showing them--there's some good points here, but he also goes off the rails a bit, especially when kvetching about Haneke remaking his own movie but, to each their own.
I did read this in three sittings and could've read it in one and the reading was enjoyable and never boring and this book would surely get a higher rating if the topics were either more interesting to me (3D is just shit, I don't need a chapter to remind me, although I did get a bit of a nice history lesson in the process, albeit one I already knew) or if he included a bit more history opposed to wit. Still, this book does have history, and he manages to spin a yarn out of our worst fears about going to the cinema in the digital age, and, ultimately, this book remains a delight.
November 14, 2023
I imagine some would find this a whiny, elitist/snobby view of modern cinema. However, I found myself satisfyingly in sync with Kermode's thoughts on (amongst other things):
1. 3D films (annoying and quality-ruining)
2. The lack of creativity and risk in modern blockbusters (so much so that I've essentially stopped watching them)
3. English language remakes of perfectly good foreign-language films (there's nothing wrong or scary about the '1-inch barrier' of subtitles)
4. The complete disregard for film and the ensuing move to digital 'films'
All that to say, if you don't find interest at all in the above topics, I can't see the book holding much value for you (and I don't really blame you). However I do, so it did.
1. 3D films (annoying and quality-ruining)
2. The lack of creativity and risk in modern blockbusters (so much so that I've essentially stopped watching them)
3. English language remakes of perfectly good foreign-language films (there's nothing wrong or scary about the '1-inch barrier' of subtitles)
4. The complete disregard for film and the ensuing move to digital 'films'
All that to say, if you don't find interest at all in the above topics, I can't see the book holding much value for you (and I don't really blame you). However I do, so it did.
January 13, 2019
Great read, Mark is spot with most of his observations on the film industry here.
Particularly interesting for me, having started as a projectionist a year ago..
Thankfully the cinema that I have the privilege of working in is an independent, with a wide variety of films, including foreign/subtitled.
Particularly interesting for me, having started as a projectionist a year ago..
Thankfully the cinema that I have the privilege of working in is an independent, with a wide variety of films, including foreign/subtitled.
June 20, 2022
This could easily rank as Mark’s best book. At the start I wasn’t sure, it felt like moaning for the sake of it, but the more chapters I read, the more I found myself agreeing and enjoying it. Mark’s take on the Oscars, British films and the modern world of blockbusters was on the nose.
Hopefully there is another book left in him to look more into the changes over the last 10 years.
Hopefully there is another book left in him to look more into the changes over the last 10 years.
January 15, 2022
A bit old, but still enjoyable. Chapters on why Blockbusters are always successful are good, why 3D movies will fail is good, and it's nice to hear what he thinks a critic should be. But it *is* a bit old, so some of the references are out of date (e.g. talking obliquely about Danny Dyer doesn't work because we've all forgotten about that spat).
August 2, 2018
3.5 stars
Read
April 1, 2020*insert old man yells at cloud meme here*
January 17, 2021
Insightful and educational. But the unfunny, cynical, and forced dialogue sequences were a serious bug-bear.
January 10, 2020
Review originally published over at Eve's Alexandria.
--
Sometimes, what you want is a polemic: a gloriously over-the-top flight of ultra-opinionated fancy that doesn't so much dismiss alternative views as chop them up into tiny pieces and then run a steamroller over them. Multiple times. While cackling.
Which I had an inkling I might get from The Good, the Bad and the Multiplex (2011), it being a book written by Mark Kermode and all. As a film critic, Kermode is smart, incisive and engaging, but above all he's passionate - a man whose "huge flappy hands" (as The Thick of It once put it) tend to end up waving in the air with the force of his conviction. His love of film is utterly infectious, and when his enthusiasm is aroused he bestows it liberally, whether it's on high-brow arty subtitled stuff or, er, Mamma Mia. Equally, Kermode's rants about films he dislikes are legendary, and I think it's fair to say are not a small part of the reason why the weekly film review show (aka 'Wittertainment') he does on BBC Radio 5 with Simon Mayo has such a huge international audience. A favourite of many is his take on Sex and the City 2 [link to YouTube video footage], a film he dubs "consumerist pornography", and which - after an initial, weary disavowal at the start of the review ("You're not going to get a rant on this") - has him so wound him up after six minutes of discussion that he ends up bursting into song. Specifically, leftie anthem 'The Internationale'.
It's all marvellously entertaining, and so too is the book. On one level it's a distillation of many of the themes he's been talking about for years: the role of film critics, the imminent death of 3D, the decline of the cinema-going experience, his adoration of Zac Efron, his loathing for Michael Bay ("the reigning deity of all that is loathsome, putrid and soul-destroying about modern-day blockbuster entertainment"). The discursive, digressive, anecdotal style is also familiar from the radio show; the first chapter spends fifty pages telling the story of a single cinema trip, because Kermode repeatedly derails himself, sparking off from glancing references in the main narrative to tell faintly 1001 Nights-style stories-within-stories about smashing up his laptop, the marvel that is Zac Efron's hair, the history of the studio system, and the latitude afforded to star power as exemplified by late-career Marlon Brando's antics on the set of The Island of Dr Moreau:
But the book is also an extended examination of the legacy of the film industry's - and cinema chains' - continual drive to cut corners, avoid risk, and bank on the sure-fire hit. Like Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (another massively enjoyable polemic), although with rather more of a focus on the consumer experience than on crazed individual personalities within the industry, Kermode aims to explain why so many of the films occupying screens at your local multiplex, especially over the summer, are lowest-common denominator tosh. He also spends quite a bit of time on the question of why the cinemas we watch this tosh in are so under-staffed - and the staff who do remain so under-qualified and/or under-paid - that while you can always buy multiple types of popcorn and buckets of fizzy-drink-flavoured ice, if the sound drops out when your film is halfway through, no-one in the damn building is capable of correcting the fault.
This happened to me once half an hour from the end of - yes - Transformers 2. The manager eventually offered that disgruntled patrons could cross the corridor to join another screening of the same film, which had startedabout 45 minutes after ours. I opted for the refund, because by that point no power on earth could have compelled me to sit through that bollocks again, just for the sake of seeing the ending. At a guess, it probably involves more shaky-cam explosions, gratuitous shots up actresses' skirts, and racist caricature robots, and frankly life's too short.
A good question, of course, was why I plonked down my money to see Transformers 2 in the first place, when I knew full well it was probably going to be like that (even if I hadn't quite grasped the scale of its that-ness). Kermode's explanation is that there's a sort of Stockholm syndrome going on; we've learned to, if not love, then certainly put up with, largely rubbish summer films, because that's what we've been trained to expect:
Kermode being Kermode, he doesn't stop there; he glosses 'diminished expectations' as
Mainstream films these days, he argues, pretty much always make money - quite a lot of money - in the long run. Even fabled flops like Kevin Costner's Waterworld claw their vast production and publicity budgets back eventually, thanks to the rise of the home entertainment market. However terrible, however critically derided an 'event' film is, the combination of a) 'bankable' stars (actors and actresses that people will pay to see regardless), b) 'opening wide' (i.e. a massive distribution push on the opening weekend, so the terrible film is showing in the biggest number of screens possible before word-of-mouth can get out about terrible it is - a trend that, as Biskind noted in Easy Riders, really took off in the 80s), and, if necessary, c) notoriety can still push a film into the black. You might not go to the cinema see a film you've heard is hilariously bad, but you might well rent the DVD one evening with some friends for a chuckle over a bottle of wine or three.
Kermode is well aware of the irony: critics like himself ranting about a bad film almost certainly contribute to that film's success, because all publicity is a sales pitch, one way or the other. Nonetheless, for him, this doesn't undermine the role of film critics, because film criticism is ultimately about, well, being opinionated:
This is not, he says, simply a case of critics being elitist, "applying highbrow criteria that cannot and should not be applied to good old undemanding blockbuster entertainment". Elsewhere in the book he explicitly celebrates the methods and output of schlock-meister Roger Corman. Corman was a direct and formative influence on the likes of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola and Oliver Stone; all worked under him at various times, obliged to stick to principles that Kermode summarises as,
The problem, he argues, is that we've learned to accept films that lack even the creativity and energy of exploitation cinema: insultingly stupid, bland, test-screened-to-within-an-inch-of-their-pixels studio products aimed squarely at the tastes of particularly dim 12-year-old boys (or occasionally girls; bafflingly, outside of pink-infested straight-to-video Disney sequels, girls have never really been seen as money-spinners by film studios, although presumably the screeching success of Twilight will lead to more equal-opportunities tosh in future. Yay?). This isn't to say that there's no place for kids' - or teenagers' - films, just that not all films need to assume their audience has no interest in following an adult conversation that isn't interrupted by an explosion. (Still less an adult conversation between - gasp - two women that isn't about a man.) Central to Kermode's case is the argument that the mainstream film industry can - and sometimes does - do better with its summer blockbusters. It just doesn't choose to.
Now, I don't share Kermode's adoration of Inception. It's fun and stylish and I definitely felt a certain awe the first time I saw it when I paused for a moment, late on, to consider just how many plates Nolan has spinning at once. Still, it's not especially challenging, really, and its treatment of its female characters is only a little less appalling than any other summer film's. Yet there's no doubt that it's smarter and funnier than your average blockbuster. It does expect its audience to remember more than one plotline at once, it doesn't telegraph its ending from seconds past its opening, and it plays confidently, convincingly and entertainingly with a much bigger world than many science-fiction-in-name-only 'epics'.
Even when Kermode is not entirely persuasive, though, there is more than enough in here to amuse and inform; skilled thumbnail sketches of films abound, as do some lovely - and loving - celebrations of little-noticed corners of the film-going experience, like the value of a properly trained projectionist, or the smell (and dangers) of old nitrate film stock. Whether or not you agree with him, there is no denying that Kermode is a fine debater and raconteur - someone who at the very least makes the case for sustained, thoughtful, passionate engagement with art as a mode of entertainment in its own right.
And as someone who spends an appreciable amount of her spare time writing about books - not because I think everyone should agree with me (well, maybe a little), or because I secretly wish I were a writer (heh, no), or because it makes me money (it does, a little, for other venues, but I also have a day job I adore), but because I think writing about books is a valuable and interesting thing to do in its own right, something that makes me a better reader and contributes to a wider conversation with other people who also love reading - Kermode's is a message I can certainly get behind. If I video-blogged my reviews, my hands would be doing a lot of flapping about while I talked, too. Long may he continue to rant.
--
Sometimes, what you want is a polemic: a gloriously over-the-top flight of ultra-opinionated fancy that doesn't so much dismiss alternative views as chop them up into tiny pieces and then run a steamroller over them. Multiple times. While cackling.
Which I had an inkling I might get from The Good, the Bad and the Multiplex (2011), it being a book written by Mark Kermode and all. As a film critic, Kermode is smart, incisive and engaging, but above all he's passionate - a man whose "huge flappy hands" (as The Thick of It once put it) tend to end up waving in the air with the force of his conviction. His love of film is utterly infectious, and when his enthusiasm is aroused he bestows it liberally, whether it's on high-brow arty subtitled stuff or, er, Mamma Mia. Equally, Kermode's rants about films he dislikes are legendary, and I think it's fair to say are not a small part of the reason why the weekly film review show (aka 'Wittertainment') he does on BBC Radio 5 with Simon Mayo has such a huge international audience. A favourite of many is his take on Sex and the City 2 [link to YouTube video footage], a film he dubs "consumerist pornography", and which - after an initial, weary disavowal at the start of the review ("You're not going to get a rant on this") - has him so wound him up after six minutes of discussion that he ends up bursting into song. Specifically, leftie anthem 'The Internationale'.
It's all marvellously entertaining, and so too is the book. On one level it's a distillation of many of the themes he's been talking about for years: the role of film critics, the imminent death of 3D, the decline of the cinema-going experience, his adoration of Zac Efron, his loathing for Michael Bay ("the reigning deity of all that is loathsome, putrid and soul-destroying about modern-day blockbuster entertainment"). The discursive, digressive, anecdotal style is also familiar from the radio show; the first chapter spends fifty pages telling the story of a single cinema trip, because Kermode repeatedly derails himself, sparking off from glancing references in the main narrative to tell faintly 1001 Nights-style stories-within-stories about smashing up his laptop, the marvel that is Zac Efron's hair, the history of the studio system, and the latitude afforded to star power as exemplified by late-career Marlon Brando's antics on the set of The Island of Dr Moreau:
Apparently Marlon liked Richard [Stanley, the director], but when when co-star Val 'Boring' Kilmer got him fired for being weird, Brando carried on picking up the pay cheques and enjoying the catering whilst wearing an ice bucket on his head. (Don't take my word for it; watch the film. No, on second thoughts, just take my word for it.) Too lazy to learn his lines, Brando insisted on wearing (along with the ice bucket) an earpiece through which a script assistant could prompt his slurred speech, a trick he'd learned on The Formula. Unfortunately, according to co-star David Thewlis, Brando's earpiece also picked up police radio transmissions, which caused Dr Moreau to observe thoughtfully that a robbery was taking place at Woolworths in the middle of a meaningful soliloquy.
But the book is also an extended examination of the legacy of the film industry's - and cinema chains' - continual drive to cut corners, avoid risk, and bank on the sure-fire hit. Like Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (another massively enjoyable polemic), although with rather more of a focus on the consumer experience than on crazed individual personalities within the industry, Kermode aims to explain why so many of the films occupying screens at your local multiplex, especially over the summer, are lowest-common denominator tosh. He also spends quite a bit of time on the question of why the cinemas we watch this tosh in are so under-staffed - and the staff who do remain so under-qualified and/or under-paid - that while you can always buy multiple types of popcorn and buckets of fizzy-drink-flavoured ice, if the sound drops out when your film is halfway through, no-one in the damn building is capable of correcting the fault.
This happened to me once half an hour from the end of - yes - Transformers 2. The manager eventually offered that disgruntled patrons could cross the corridor to join another screening of the same film, which had startedabout 45 minutes after ours. I opted for the refund, because by that point no power on earth could have compelled me to sit through that bollocks again, just for the sake of seeing the ending. At a guess, it probably involves more shaky-cam explosions, gratuitous shots up actresses' skirts, and racist caricature robots, and frankly life's too short.
A good question, of course, was why I plonked down my money to see Transformers 2 in the first place, when I knew full well it was probably going to be like that (even if I hadn't quite grasped the scale of its that-ness). Kermode's explanation is that there's a sort of Stockholm syndrome going on; we've learned to, if not love, then certainly put up with, largely rubbish summer films, because that's what we've been trained to expect:
Here are three absolute truths:
1. The world is round.
2. We are all going to die.
3. No one enjoyed Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.
Oh, I know loads of people paid to see POTC3 (as I believe it is known in the industry). And some of them may claim to have enjoyed it. But they didn't. Not really. They just think they did. As a film critic, an important part of my job is explaining to people why they haven't actually enjoyed a movie even if they think they have. In the case of POTC3, the explanation is very simple.
It's called "diminished expectations".
Kermode being Kermode, he doesn't stop there; he glosses 'diminished expectations' as
the cinematic equivalent of long-term deprivation of the basics of a civilised existence. They are the multiplex dwellers who have become used to living in the cultural freezing cold, whose brains have been addled by poisonous celluloid asbestos, and whose expectations of mainstream entertainment have been gradually eroded by leaky plumbing and infestations of verminous pests.
They are the Audiences of the Apocalypse.
Mainstream films these days, he argues, pretty much always make money - quite a lot of money - in the long run. Even fabled flops like Kevin Costner's Waterworld claw their vast production and publicity budgets back eventually, thanks to the rise of the home entertainment market. However terrible, however critically derided an 'event' film is, the combination of a) 'bankable' stars (actors and actresses that people will pay to see regardless), b) 'opening wide' (i.e. a massive distribution push on the opening weekend, so the terrible film is showing in the biggest number of screens possible before word-of-mouth can get out about terrible it is - a trend that, as Biskind noted in Easy Riders, really took off in the 80s), and, if necessary, c) notoriety can still push a film into the black. You might not go to the cinema see a film you've heard is hilariously bad, but you might well rent the DVD one evening with some friends for a chuckle over a bottle of wine or three.
Kermode is well aware of the irony: critics like himself ranting about a bad film almost certainly contribute to that film's success, because all publicity is a sales pitch, one way or the other. Nonetheless, for him, this doesn't undermine the role of film critics, because film criticism is ultimately about, well, being opinionated:
I don't think critics should do the job of telling you which movies to watch. Or what you should think about them. No, I think critics should do the job of watching all the movies and then telling you what they think about them in a way which is honest, engaging, erudite and (if you're lucky) entertaining.
This is not, he says, simply a case of critics being elitist, "applying highbrow criteria that cannot and should not be applied to good old undemanding blockbuster entertainment". Elsewhere in the book he explicitly celebrates the methods and output of schlock-meister Roger Corman. Corman was a direct and formative influence on the likes of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola and Oliver Stone; all worked under him at various times, obliged to stick to principles that Kermode summarises as,
1) No, you can't have any more money.
2) No, the movie doesn't need to be that long.
3) Yes, you do have to have either an exploding helicopter or at least one scene in a strip club.
4) After that, you’re on your own - knock yourself out.
Corman believed that the best way to encourage new film-making talent was to find people who loved avant garde international cinema and were desperate to be the next Ozu, Fellini or Antonioni, and then set them to work making Carnosaur 2.
The problem, he argues, is that we've learned to accept films that lack even the creativity and energy of exploitation cinema: insultingly stupid, bland, test-screened-to-within-an-inch-of-their-pixels studio products aimed squarely at the tastes of particularly dim 12-year-old boys (or occasionally girls; bafflingly, outside of pink-infested straight-to-video Disney sequels, girls have never really been seen as money-spinners by film studios, although presumably the screeching success of Twilight will lead to more equal-opportunities tosh in future. Yay?). This isn't to say that there's no place for kids' - or teenagers' - films, just that not all films need to assume their audience has no interest in following an adult conversation that isn't interrupted by an explosion. (Still less an adult conversation between - gasp - two women that isn't about a man.) Central to Kermode's case is the argument that the mainstream film industry can - and sometimes does - do better with its summer blockbusters. It just doesn't choose to.
The problem with movies today is not that "real" cinema-goers love garbage while critics only like poncy foreign language arthouse fare. The problem is that we've all learned to tolerate a level of overpaid, institutionalised corporate dreadfulness that no one actually likes but everyone meekly accepts because we've all been told that blockbuster movies have to be stupid to survive. Being intelligent will cause them to become unpopular. Duh! The more money you spend, the dumb and dumberer you have to be. You know the drill: no one went broke underestimating the public intelligence. That's just how it is, OK?
Well, actually, no. You want proof? OK. Exhibit A: Inception.
Now, I don't share Kermode's adoration of Inception. It's fun and stylish and I definitely felt a certain awe the first time I saw it when I paused for a moment, late on, to consider just how many plates Nolan has spinning at once. Still, it's not especially challenging, really, and its treatment of its female characters is only a little less appalling than any other summer film's. Yet there's no doubt that it's smarter and funnier than your average blockbuster. It does expect its audience to remember more than one plotline at once, it doesn't telegraph its ending from seconds past its opening, and it plays confidently, convincingly and entertainingly with a much bigger world than many science-fiction-in-name-only 'epics'.
Even when Kermode is not entirely persuasive, though, there is more than enough in here to amuse and inform; skilled thumbnail sketches of films abound, as do some lovely - and loving - celebrations of little-noticed corners of the film-going experience, like the value of a properly trained projectionist, or the smell (and dangers) of old nitrate film stock. Whether or not you agree with him, there is no denying that Kermode is a fine debater and raconteur - someone who at the very least makes the case for sustained, thoughtful, passionate engagement with art as a mode of entertainment in its own right.
And as someone who spends an appreciable amount of her spare time writing about books - not because I think everyone should agree with me (well, maybe a little), or because I secretly wish I were a writer (heh, no), or because it makes me money (it does, a little, for other venues, but I also have a day job I adore), but because I think writing about books is a valuable and interesting thing to do in its own right, something that makes me a better reader and contributes to a wider conversation with other people who also love reading - Kermode's is a message I can certainly get behind. If I video-blogged my reviews, my hands would be doing a lot of flapping about while I talked, too. Long may he continue to rant.
September 10, 2013
Kermode's second book gets off to a shaky start with a protracted description of a visit to a multiplex. I've often disagreed with people's descriptions of Mark as a grumpy old man, which I think is usually a way of dismissing someone who just passionately disagrees about something you like, but in this instance the shoe somewhat fits. I dislike multiplexes and avoid them where possible, but the opening chapter (not counting the prologue, which is ok, but follows the formula that every book about film must start with a history of the medium starting right from tinfoil and passing through early talkies and technicolor etc) was a rather tedious affair. I suspect it is an amalgamation of various different encounters, combined into a single anecdote and substantially exaggerated for comic effect. That's fine, but I'm not the first reviewer here to be somewhat riled by the stereotypical caricature of young men working in menial jobs. I fully agree that multiplexes are an impersonal and corporate experience, but in my view this is a problem with the way the places are run, not the members of staff who work there.
After that slightly irksome chapter, the book becomes less of an angry-blog-rant and starts to become an interesting argument about the state of cinema. Some points are already a little dated just a couple of years after the book was published - while he seems to be trying to avoid this, there are one or two references to 'forthcoming' films that have either already materialised, or never happened (The Ring 3D anyone?) - but for the most part these are still prescient points. Kermode uses historical background as well as up-to-date figures to make his points about how Blockbusters could be better, 3D won't last (in fact it seems it's already on the way out?), and how homogenised American cinema dominates the marketplace. I particularly enjoyed the part where he rips apart the Golden Globes and the Oscars. Sometimes he drifts off into a side point for a bit too long, and at others it feels a bit like he's trying to pad out the page count of the book, but it's nonetheless an enjoyable read. Surprisingly, in the end, he ties together all the points he's made in his previous chapters to support a very simple message: support your independent cinemas.
The issue with this book, I suppose, is that it is essentially preaching to the choir. I can't imagine anyone who isn't familiar with Kermode would read it, and those who are will probably be familiar with a lot of these arguments from his radio show and blog (although they are expanded on here with both more detail and some stuff you couldn't say on daytime radio), and while it does make some coherent and apparently well-researched arguments, it's not an academic book and would be of very little use as supporting material for a student, as it's not detailed enough for that kind of thing, nor does it cite many sources. It is a polemic, albeit an entertaining one. Still, it's a quick and breezy read and if it gets people thinking more about supporting some of the great independent cinemas out there then that can only be a good thing.
After that slightly irksome chapter, the book becomes less of an angry-blog-rant and starts to become an interesting argument about the state of cinema. Some points are already a little dated just a couple of years after the book was published - while he seems to be trying to avoid this, there are one or two references to 'forthcoming' films that have either already materialised, or never happened (The Ring 3D anyone?) - but for the most part these are still prescient points. Kermode uses historical background as well as up-to-date figures to make his points about how Blockbusters could be better, 3D won't last (in fact it seems it's already on the way out?), and how homogenised American cinema dominates the marketplace. I particularly enjoyed the part where he rips apart the Golden Globes and the Oscars. Sometimes he drifts off into a side point for a bit too long, and at others it feels a bit like he's trying to pad out the page count of the book, but it's nonetheless an enjoyable read. Surprisingly, in the end, he ties together all the points he's made in his previous chapters to support a very simple message: support your independent cinemas.
The issue with this book, I suppose, is that it is essentially preaching to the choir. I can't imagine anyone who isn't familiar with Kermode would read it, and those who are will probably be familiar with a lot of these arguments from his radio show and blog (although they are expanded on here with both more detail and some stuff you couldn't say on daytime radio), and while it does make some coherent and apparently well-researched arguments, it's not an academic book and would be of very little use as supporting material for a student, as it's not detailed enough for that kind of thing, nor does it cite many sources. It is a polemic, albeit an entertaining one. Still, it's a quick and breezy read and if it gets people thinking more about supporting some of the great independent cinemas out there then that can only be a good thing.
October 7, 2011
Released in early September, noted British film critic Mark Kermode followed up It's Only a Movie with another rant-filled tome entitled The Good, The Bad and The Multiplex. At Edinburgh International Book Festival, tour dates across the UK, and podcasts across the interwebs, Kermode has offered verbal versions of his prosthelytising about the lost art of film projection, the state of British cinema, American remakes of perfectly good foreign films, and more.
The book offers much of the same, acting as a detailed written basis for his Wittertainment soap-boxing and all manner of excuses for a good whinge. While we've all heard the Zac Efron anecdote and 70s stand-up style slagging of minimum wage cinema workers thousands of times, there are topics of note hidden in the later chapters of this latest book. 'Why Blockbusters Should Be Better' became the basis for an excellent article (published in the Guardian) discusses the state of modern blockbuster cinema and tales of big-budget movie-making gone awry, plucking some choice anecdotes from film history and serving them up as caveats to some interesting points.
However, more often than not the rants and reservations ('The Inevitable Decline of 3D', anyone?) are over-argued by our friendly neighbourhood quoiffed berater. The extension of such arguments gives Kermode's (admittedly niche) audience little credit, as Wittertainment listeners and Kermode Uncut viewers have heard it all before. Stretching some over-used material out over 250 pages leaves a well-worn tether, but there are, nonetheless, gems to be found in the pages of this extended oration.
Stout fans and light readers will enjoy another episode of hand-flap free rants and raves from one of Britain's most reputed and lively film critics. But let's not hold our breaths for part three.
To win a copy visit my website at http://unculturedcritic.com
The book offers much of the same, acting as a detailed written basis for his Wittertainment soap-boxing and all manner of excuses for a good whinge. While we've all heard the Zac Efron anecdote and 70s stand-up style slagging of minimum wage cinema workers thousands of times, there are topics of note hidden in the later chapters of this latest book. 'Why Blockbusters Should Be Better' became the basis for an excellent article (published in the Guardian) discusses the state of modern blockbuster cinema and tales of big-budget movie-making gone awry, plucking some choice anecdotes from film history and serving them up as caveats to some interesting points.
However, more often than not the rants and reservations ('The Inevitable Decline of 3D', anyone?) are over-argued by our friendly neighbourhood quoiffed berater. The extension of such arguments gives Kermode's (admittedly niche) audience little credit, as Wittertainment listeners and Kermode Uncut viewers have heard it all before. Stretching some over-used material out over 250 pages leaves a well-worn tether, but there are, nonetheless, gems to be found in the pages of this extended oration.
Stout fans and light readers will enjoy another episode of hand-flap free rants and raves from one of Britain's most reputed and lively film critics. But let's not hold our breaths for part three.
To win a copy visit my website at http://unculturedcritic.com
June 20, 2012
For anyone who has ever spent more than five minutes listening to Radio 5's flagship film show (or the podcast version) knows, Dr Kermode has opinions. Lots of opinions. Most of them about film. And he's nearly always right.
In fact, I've only ever known him be seriously wrong once (a faintly positive review of Elfie Hopkins, easily the worst film of the year, if not the decade).
But it's not a desire to be right, or an academic zeal born of the fact he knows he's right (which he often is, if not about the Hopkins fiasco) which drives the good Dr - it's a passion for film which drives him to bang on about something until you see it from his point of view.
He's not just a film fan, he's not just a film critic, the man lives celluloid. The 35mm version.
And it's that passion that fuels The Good, The Bad... - less a collection of his rants (which it is) and more an open letter to Hollywood.
You can feel his pain when he's talking about the multiplex curse, Hollywood's zeal to remake everything foreign and eradicate subtitles, the latest attempt to make 3D work - all familiar topics to his regular audience, but here given new life and a fresh insight as he is able to expand on his subjects and really make his point felt.
Especially about 3D.
If all this sounds like nothing more than a series of lectures, then you're wrong. With his passion comes a rich humour and elegant turn of phrase that will have you smiling as you nod along in agreement.
Love the book, Steve. And hello to Jason Isaacs...
In fact, I've only ever known him be seriously wrong once (a faintly positive review of Elfie Hopkins, easily the worst film of the year, if not the decade).
But it's not a desire to be right, or an academic zeal born of the fact he knows he's right (which he often is, if not about the Hopkins fiasco) which drives the good Dr - it's a passion for film which drives him to bang on about something until you see it from his point of view.
He's not just a film fan, he's not just a film critic, the man lives celluloid. The 35mm version.
And it's that passion that fuels The Good, The Bad... - less a collection of his rants (which it is) and more an open letter to Hollywood.
You can feel his pain when he's talking about the multiplex curse, Hollywood's zeal to remake everything foreign and eradicate subtitles, the latest attempt to make 3D work - all familiar topics to his regular audience, but here given new life and a fresh insight as he is able to expand on his subjects and really make his point felt.
Especially about 3D.
If all this sounds like nothing more than a series of lectures, then you're wrong. With his passion comes a rich humour and elegant turn of phrase that will have you smiling as you nod along in agreement.
Love the book, Steve. And hello to Jason Isaacs...
January 21, 2012
Intelligent without being elitist, grouchy and rather funny, Kermode takes on the sorry state of modern movies.
Personally, I've not been going to the cinema half as much lately as I used to. Apart from it costing the best part of a tenner, without any add-ons like 'premium' seating, 3D and food, whenever I have ventured there I've either been wildly disappointed or flat out annoyed at the cinematic crap that's being served up. In the last year, the number of films I've truly enjoyed can be counted on one hand (if you want to know what the best film was, it's Rango. If you haven't seen it yet, do so.) Factor in the blinding headaches I get from watching films converted to crappy 3D (which seems to be every new release now), and the repressing of violent urges whenever I'm surrounded by people intent on texting/talking on their phone throughout (in a screening of one film, one lovely fella answered his phone loudly 15 minutes in, told the person on the other end that he'd seen the film before and that it was shit, and then proceeded to outline the rest of the plot for them. I think I would have been justified had I disembowelled him), and it's stopped being a pleasant experience.
While Kermode is kind of preaching to the choir with me (as evidenced above) it makes it no less entertaining, and I dearly wish that Hollywood and the heads of cinema chains would read and take note. They won't though.
Personally, I've not been going to the cinema half as much lately as I used to. Apart from it costing the best part of a tenner, without any add-ons like 'premium' seating, 3D and food, whenever I have ventured there I've either been wildly disappointed or flat out annoyed at the cinematic crap that's being served up. In the last year, the number of films I've truly enjoyed can be counted on one hand (if you want to know what the best film was, it's Rango. If you haven't seen it yet, do so.) Factor in the blinding headaches I get from watching films converted to crappy 3D (which seems to be every new release now), and the repressing of violent urges whenever I'm surrounded by people intent on texting/talking on their phone throughout (in a screening of one film, one lovely fella answered his phone loudly 15 minutes in, told the person on the other end that he'd seen the film before and that it was shit, and then proceeded to outline the rest of the plot for them. I think I would have been justified had I disembowelled him), and it's stopped being a pleasant experience.
While Kermode is kind of preaching to the choir with me (as evidenced above) it makes it no less entertaining, and I dearly wish that Hollywood and the heads of cinema chains would read and take note. They won't though.
August 21, 2012
A great book for film fans, about the state of modern filmmaking and distribution. Very funny, very well written and very persuasive, it has a wonderful description of the frustrations of watching films in a badly run multiplex, a chapter on how 3D has been trying and failing to be the future of cinema for more than a century, and a lot of very personal opinions about Mark Kermode’s favourite and least favourite films. He criticises, very knowledgably and persuasively, the system which strangles small and medium-sized films and means that even dreadful blockbusters (even those dreadful blockbusters which seem to flop) make millions of dollars worldwide once DVD sales are added in. Basically if a film has a star name, spectacular action and a highly promoted bloated budget then people will pay to watch it just to see what it’s like, even (and this is the weird thing) even if they are expecting it to be dreadful. Then Mark Kermode admits to enjoying some of these films, and hating others. And most readers will have their own personal favourites and least favourites – which will probably be different from his. And that’s ok, because we can all worry about the state of the film industry, and enjoy its slightly bruised fruit at the same time. A fascinating book, which manages to make you not feel (too) bad about enjoying trashy films and also inspires you to hunt out the better films you know must be out there!
December 2, 2011
The esteemed critic has a rant on a variety of subjects that are close to his heart - the soul-lessness of the modern multiplex, Michael Bay’s crimes against cinema, the art of the blockbuster, British film, digital projection rather than celluloid projectors and what critics are for - and, for the most part, it’s a very entertaining read. Especially if you share some of his pet hates, as I do - I haven’t been to a multiplex in ages (having gotten fed up with over-priced tickets, lack of ushers and people talking constantly), I think digital film generally looks very cold and clinical and even if I didn’t dislike Michael Bay for his dumbing-down-whip-crack ‘movies’, I would for his company remaking old horror films that should have been left alone. Kermode knows his stuff and writes intelligently and engagingly, assuming the reader has a level of knowledge already and that makes for a pleasant experience. However, as much as I enjoyed the book - and I did - it shares the same fault as the last one (“It’s Only A Movie”), in that some of his rants tend to overstay their welcome and a bit of editing might have helped out. Otherwise, assuming you like the man, this is highly recommended.
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April 22, 2015A massively enjoyable rant-cycle about what's wrong with modern cinema (and indeed, modern cinemas) from Britain's most trusted film critic*, leavened with joyful little hymns to the pictures and picture palaces that make it all worthwhile. Obviously, it's massively subjective - and admits as much, as any decent film book must do - while never being afraid to give those subjective opinions full hyperbolic throttle. Which nonetheless means that, if your tastes overlap with Kermode's less than mine, you might well find it less of a thoroughgoing delight. For me, the strangest thing was how dated a book published less than five years ago could sometimes be; when it comes to the 3D bubble, Kermode comes across as prescient, but the chapter on blockbusters seemed rather incomplete. When he says that since blockbusters always make money anyway, you might as well make good blockbusters - well, certainly, but why not acknowledge Marvel Studios' fine efforts in that direction? And then I realised, when he wrote this he'd seen at most three of their films, including the one genuine dud. What a long time ago 2011 was.
*According to one YouGov survey, about which he is suitably self-deprecating herein.
*According to one YouGov survey, about which he is suitably self-deprecating herein.
November 23, 2014
Better than Kermode's previous book (which was mostly bits of biography), this book is a series of pretty much separable chapters, each on a subject Kermode is likely to go into one of his famous rants about. The first (on the lack of projectionists in modern multiplexes) is just comedy genius. The image of Dr Kermode smouldering away like some modern day Hancock simply trying but tickets (but NOT POPCORN) in a multiplex had me chuckling all the way through. In the following chapters, Kermode looks at 3D, why blockbusters are bad (but don't have to be) and yet still make their money back, the myth of the decline in British cinema, what movie critics are for, among other subjects. Whether you agree with him or not, Kermode is always entertaining and thought-provoking, never taking himself entirely seriously, but always interesting.
July 13, 2013
Whilst Kermode is great at polemic, he's less good at actually making a cohesive argument about why he doesn't like something.
His typical line of criticism is "This thing is bad, because I said so...and I'm right". Michael Bay's films may be objectionable and underpinned by the worst kind of prejudiced beliefs, but Kermode doesn't do a great job of skewering him, and he's just one of the easy targets taken on in this mostly underwhelming collection of essays which you've already heard if you've ever listened to the Radio Five film review show he presents with Simon Mayo.
3D is rubbish, going to the multiplex is frustrating, blockbusters ain't what they used to be - much of this book reads like the blog posts of a grumpy middle-aged man collected for your perusal. And as a grumpy middle-aged bloke, I'm not really sold on this a book worth buying.
His typical line of criticism is "This thing is bad, because I said so...and I'm right". Michael Bay's films may be objectionable and underpinned by the worst kind of prejudiced beliefs, but Kermode doesn't do a great job of skewering him, and he's just one of the easy targets taken on in this mostly underwhelming collection of essays which you've already heard if you've ever listened to the Radio Five film review show he presents with Simon Mayo.
3D is rubbish, going to the multiplex is frustrating, blockbusters ain't what they used to be - much of this book reads like the blog posts of a grumpy middle-aged man collected for your perusal. And as a grumpy middle-aged bloke, I'm not really sold on this a book worth buying.
February 5, 2012
A worth of admission...reading if only for the Chapter 3 'The Inevitable Decline of 3-D', which says everything that's needs to be said why current 3-D hype is just a stupid money-making scheme, nothing more, and i can hope will die away soon as possible. Book itself is 313 pages long (funny) rant what's wrong with the modern movies. If you find Kermode annoying on a radio/tv you probably won't like this so much. But for me who likes Mike Kermodes reviews (and thinks that all great movies were made back in 80s) this was worth my time.
January 4, 2025
The past two days have been interesting, they have taught me just how pleasurable it can be to read outside of your normal fare.
I doubt it will come as a surprise to anyone who has seen me on here, but I am not a movie person. I don't know anything about film and can name you maybe three directors and, if I'm pushing it, ten, or maybe 15, actors. I haven't seen most of the movies that my generation is supposedly conversant with, let alone the movies that are the talk of the current generation. And yet, I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
I learned a lot from it. For instance, I had no idea that celluloid film was flammable, or that there was even a job known as a projectionist. I learned that film critics get to watch films for free and that Ben Shapiro and Mark Kermode have the exact same opinion about the travesty of the movie "Titanic" for all of the same reasons. I must admit I cackled aloud when I got to Kermode's outrage at costly jewelry being tossed into the sea and imagined him saying it at 5x speed, just how Shapiro did. The fact that two such disparate people have the same low opinion of the film reinforced my resolve, made at the tender age of 14 after glimpsing the spitting scene, to never watch the rest of the movie.
I learned that my taste in movies is suspect because I adore Waterworld and have watched it I don't know how many times, but that I am not totally unsalvageable because I also think Avatar has the dumbest story line it's ever been my misfortune to have to sit through. I even learned, somewhat, how 3-D films actually achieve their approximation of three dimensionality. Mostly, though, I learned how entertaining Mark Kermode is. If his movie reviews are as entertaining as his books above movie criticism in general are, I could almost be convinced to pick them up for the occasional chortle.
I also enjoyed reading the section about foreign films. Kermode bemoans how rare it is for an American, or English, audience to watch foreign films that require subtitles, and I think this is something that is very true of older audiences, but something that is also changing with younger audiences. I know it's a consistent argument with my father when I want to introduce him to something that he would like to watch, like Ip Man, but he wants to watch it in the dub and I want to watch it in the sub. He normally wins, but I always feel like something essential is missing from the experience.
I do think this is changing though, and probably it has something to do with the influx of anime into the market. Even though anime is not the same as film, the terrible dubbing and the ferociousness of fans wanting the authentic product seems to have bled over into the realm of movies as well. It also probably has something to do with the sudden glut of streaming services and the ability to watch foreign films and dramas and how much quicker it is to add subtitles than it is to release them with dubs. Regardless of the reasons behind it, this is a trend that I think is slowly dying, and more people are becoming more accustomed to watching movies with subtitles.
It is a bit annoying though, if for example, like me, you live in Japan, and you want to watch a Korean drama on a platform like Netflix. They assume that of course you would only want to watch with Japanese subtitles. Why on earth would anyone want to watch with English subtitles if they are located in Japan? I love me all of my languages, but even my brain starts to hurt when I'm watching a show in a language I don't speak and trying to understand what is going on by reading along in my 3rd language below. Especially considering how English is the lingua franca of the world right now and the most studied second language globally, you'd think it would at least be an option, but nope.
He also talked interestingly about how Japanese horror and Western horror are different, and how stories that are culturally embedded in their contexts are usually more understandable if they are presented in their original language and context rather than being translated into a different language and context. Basically, you can't take Sadako, change her name to Sally and place her inside of New York city and expect the story to pack the same punch. That made a lot of sense to me. I remember trying to explain 耳なし芳一 (Miminashi Houichi-Houichi the Earless) to my mom and the cold shiver it sent up my spine the first time I read it. How can you have a cold shiver going up your spine as you are laughing uncontrollably? It's a juxtaposition I've never experienced with an American horror story.
Kermode is mostly talking about film and stories, but I think that it's true of any type of art. There are poems and songs in Japanese that can reduce me to tears within the first stanza, but when I pull up the translations to explain to someone else what they mean just seem kind of dumb and trite. Conversely, there are poems in English that cause my soul to rise, and when I try to put them into Japanese, just lie flat on the earth like a wingless grub. It's not to say that translation is an impossible task, or that we cannot achieve communication with speakers of other languages, but it is to say that there are some nuances that can be grasped and understood by the soul, but cannot be expressed using the words of a different language.
Anyway, it was a very enjoyable book about subject matter that I knew very little about, that caused me to think in a new way about subjects that I do know a bit about. Highly recommend.
I doubt it will come as a surprise to anyone who has seen me on here, but I am not a movie person. I don't know anything about film and can name you maybe three directors and, if I'm pushing it, ten, or maybe 15, actors. I haven't seen most of the movies that my generation is supposedly conversant with, let alone the movies that are the talk of the current generation. And yet, I thoroughly enjoyed this book.
I learned a lot from it. For instance, I had no idea that celluloid film was flammable, or that there was even a job known as a projectionist. I learned that film critics get to watch films for free and that Ben Shapiro and Mark Kermode have the exact same opinion about the travesty of the movie "Titanic" for all of the same reasons. I must admit I cackled aloud when I got to Kermode's outrage at costly jewelry being tossed into the sea and imagined him saying it at 5x speed, just how Shapiro did. The fact that two such disparate people have the same low opinion of the film reinforced my resolve, made at the tender age of 14 after glimpsing the spitting scene, to never watch the rest of the movie.
I learned that my taste in movies is suspect because I adore Waterworld and have watched it I don't know how many times, but that I am not totally unsalvageable because I also think Avatar has the dumbest story line it's ever been my misfortune to have to sit through. I even learned, somewhat, how 3-D films actually achieve their approximation of three dimensionality. Mostly, though, I learned how entertaining Mark Kermode is. If his movie reviews are as entertaining as his books above movie criticism in general are, I could almost be convinced to pick them up for the occasional chortle.
I also enjoyed reading the section about foreign films. Kermode bemoans how rare it is for an American, or English, audience to watch foreign films that require subtitles, and I think this is something that is very true of older audiences, but something that is also changing with younger audiences. I know it's a consistent argument with my father when I want to introduce him to something that he would like to watch, like Ip Man, but he wants to watch it in the dub and I want to watch it in the sub. He normally wins, but I always feel like something essential is missing from the experience.
I do think this is changing though, and probably it has something to do with the influx of anime into the market. Even though anime is not the same as film, the terrible dubbing and the ferociousness of fans wanting the authentic product seems to have bled over into the realm of movies as well. It also probably has something to do with the sudden glut of streaming services and the ability to watch foreign films and dramas and how much quicker it is to add subtitles than it is to release them with dubs. Regardless of the reasons behind it, this is a trend that I think is slowly dying, and more people are becoming more accustomed to watching movies with subtitles.
It is a bit annoying though, if for example, like me, you live in Japan, and you want to watch a Korean drama on a platform like Netflix. They assume that of course you would only want to watch with Japanese subtitles. Why on earth would anyone want to watch with English subtitles if they are located in Japan? I love me all of my languages, but even my brain starts to hurt when I'm watching a show in a language I don't speak and trying to understand what is going on by reading along in my 3rd language below. Especially considering how English is the lingua franca of the world right now and the most studied second language globally, you'd think it would at least be an option, but nope.
He also talked interestingly about how Japanese horror and Western horror are different, and how stories that are culturally embedded in their contexts are usually more understandable if they are presented in their original language and context rather than being translated into a different language and context. Basically, you can't take Sadako, change her name to Sally and place her inside of New York city and expect the story to pack the same punch. That made a lot of sense to me. I remember trying to explain 耳なし芳一 (Miminashi Houichi-Houichi the Earless) to my mom and the cold shiver it sent up my spine the first time I read it. How can you have a cold shiver going up your spine as you are laughing uncontrollably? It's a juxtaposition I've never experienced with an American horror story.
Kermode is mostly talking about film and stories, but I think that it's true of any type of art. There are poems and songs in Japanese that can reduce me to tears within the first stanza, but when I pull up the translations to explain to someone else what they mean just seem kind of dumb and trite. Conversely, there are poems in English that cause my soul to rise, and when I try to put them into Japanese, just lie flat on the earth like a wingless grub. It's not to say that translation is an impossible task, or that we cannot achieve communication with speakers of other languages, but it is to say that there are some nuances that can be grasped and understood by the soul, but cannot be expressed using the words of a different language.
Anyway, it was a very enjoyable book about subject matter that I knew very little about, that caused me to think in a new way about subjects that I do know a bit about. Highly recommend.
February 13, 2022
The more I read, the more I wished I was watching a movie. That's at least a great experience to have, reading about films from those working in the field of criticism is always a treat, but they can only hold the attention for so long. Mark Kermode makes a briefly grand point here or there but it is capsized by his desire to become the focus, with poor anecdotes and dull encounters with everything he finds wrong with the new age of cinema.
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