A few years back, literary critic B.R. Myers complained in A Reader's Manifesto that contemporary literary critics weren't very interested in actual prose. Oh, they claimed to be—critics would toss off a few words of praise about a novelist's writerly tricks—but they would only rarely grapple with the actual writing: the words, the sentences, the brick and mortar of the books they were discussing.
Here's Myers:
To discuss matters of plot or character development is to prevent readers unfamiliar with the works in question from following the discussion as critically as they should. Besides, we can all argue about whether a story is interesting or a character believable, but few literate people would deny that "a clash of sound, discordant," is repetitive, or that "from whence there could be no way back" is absurdly archaic for a story set in the Truman years.
This makes it even more remarkable that our nation's critics should be so reluctant to discuss prose style. Just compare the amateur book reviews on Amazon to the reviews in the major newspapers. The amateurs keep the story to themselves, so as not to spoil the fun for others, and tend to make frank recommendations based on how the writer expresses himself: directly or pretentiously, clearly or obscurely, and so on. Most of the average New York Times review, on the other hand, is devoted to describing the cast of characters and giving away the plot. Virtually nothing is said about the writer's style, even when, as is often the case, it is held up as the best part of the book under review. ...
Critics seem to have a hard time discussing prose in a straightforward manner—finding a middle ground, in other words, between stodgy academic jargon and twee comparisons to hand-made candy. At best they will quote one or two sentences from the text, usually the most stilted ones they can find, along with some empty remark like "now that's great writing."
I couldn't help but think of Myers' lament while reading Matt Zoller Seitz's recent essay on the refusal of film critics to address issues of form and cinematic style in their criticism. Though his post provoked no small amount of outrage on Twitter, it struck me as both relatively obvious and undeniably true. These, it seems to me, are the two most relevant paragraphs:
Movies and television are visual art forms, and aural art forms. They are not just about plot, characterization and theme. Analytical writing about movies and TV should incorporate some discussion of the means by which the plot is advanced, the characters developed, the themes explored. It should devote some space, some small bit of the word count, to the compositions, the cutting, the music, the decor, the lighting, the overall rhythm and mood of the piece.
Otherwise it's all just book reports or political op-eds that happen to be about film and TV. It's literary criticism about visual media. It's only achieving half of its potential, if that. And it's doing nothing to help a viewer understand how a work evokes particular feelings in them as they watch it.
Given Seitz's impressive collection of video essays—his series on Michael Mann is a must-watch if you're a fan of the auteur of alpha—it's no surprise that he's vexed by critics who don't bother spending at least a little time relaying how a film's visual and auditory elements impact the cinematic experience. One needn't be an expert filmmaker to be able to articulately discuss key aspects of filmmaking: undergrads do it every day in classes like Cinema as an Art Form at the University of Virginia. All it takes is a little curiosity and an interest in seeking out books that will help you understand the craft. A good start for beginners: Sidney Lumet's Making Movies. I'm also quite fond of The Movies as Medium.
But, frankly, I shouldn't be giving you advice. I'm frequently as guilty as anyone else of the sins Seitz cites. His essay is a handy reminder to do better, to dig deeper. I will try to do so going forward.
Update: Since writing this post I've started re-reading Making Movies; here's a relevant passage from the opening chapter:
The question "What is this movie about?" will be asked over and over again throughout the book. For now, suffice it to say that the theme (the what of the movie) is going to determine the style (the how of the movie). The theme will decide the specifics of every selection made in all the following chapters. I work from the inside out. What the movie is about will determine how it will be cast, how it will look, how it will be edited, how it will be musically scored, how it will be mixed, how the titles will look, and, with a good studio, how it will be released.
Helping viewers understand the what of the movie by showing them the how of the movie is one of the jobs of a film critic.