“As close to film reviewing royalty as one finds in Australia,” is how I described ABC host Margaret Pomeranz when Cinetology kicked off its Meet the Critics series in January.

Every queen needs her duke. David Stratton, the more studious half of Australian television’s most enduring partnership, wears the crown with aplomb. He’s been beaming into lounge rooms since 1980, and appearing in print for almost as long after judging and directing film festivals in Sydney and around the world. After a lifetime of cinema-going, the 73-year-old’s fastidious criticism has become synonymous in Australia film.

And yet, like his TV partner, the Stratton never set out to be a critic. And certainly not a celebrity.

“It’s sort of for me an unexpected by-product of what I am doing,” he told me from his home in Sydney. “Occasionally, when you’re not in the mood and having a quiet meal or something, it can be a little bit annoying when people come up to you but generally speaking it’s fine.”

In addition to appearing weekly on At the Movies, Stratton writes for The Australian and — this year at least — shares his love for the cinema (or sea-nema, as the case may be …) on a five-star cruise ship, presumably populated by sun-seeking, loafer-wearing film enthusiasts.

It’s hard to imagine Australian film reviewing culture without Stratton. So you can imagine my surprise when, around the half way mark in our interview, he drops a bombshell.

“I’ll tell you that I’m probably speaking out of turn here,” he said. “For the last couple of years I’ve been talking to ABC management about preparing for a transition, so that when Margaret and I finally retire from this they have got a couple of young reviewers ready to take over. And they won’t do it. They just are not interested.  Their view is that when we retire, that’ll be it because nobody else can do it, which is nonsense.”

When I ask him directly whether he is currently contemplating retirement, the affable Stratton responds, chasing it with a chuckle, “we finished up 25 years last year and this is our 26th year. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Stratton is the latest participant in Meet the Critics, which has profiled a collection of Australia’s most prominent film reviewers including The Age’s Jake Wilson, Triple J’s Marc Fennell, The Sydney Morning Herald’s Sandra Hall and Stratton’s fellow Australian critics Evan Williams  and Lynden Barber. For a complete list of interviewees, visit the Meet the Critics landing page.

Given you’ve been on television for such a long time — and this is a subject I broached when I chatted with Margaret (Pomeranz) a few months ago – you’ve become a kind of celebrity yourself. I assume this was unintended. Does it ever bother you?

Bother is not quite the right word. You’re very conscious of it, obviously. It’s sort of for me an unexpected by-product of what I am doing. But on the other hand people are very nice, and the ones who come and talk to you obviously enjoy the program. Just occasionally, when you’re not in the mood and having a quiet meal or something, it can be a little bit annoying when people come up to you but generally speaking it’s fine.

I’m interested in your thoughts about the at times fractious relationship between Australian film reviewers and filmmakers. I remember reading in your autobiography about an incident when Geoffrey Wright (director of Romper Stomper) poured wine down your shirt after you gave his film a bad rap. Was that an awakening of sorts to how sensitively people can react to your reviews?

Let’s step back a moment. I never set out to become a film reviewer. Before I got into this, as you probably know, I was director of the Sydney Film Festival for 18 years. In that role I had to get to know all the Australian filmmakers. I was fortunate that that period when I was directing the Sydney Film Festival was a period of resurgence for Australian cinema. So I knew very well directors like Peter Weir, Phil Noyce, Fred Schepisi and Gillian Armstrong. All these people as they were stating to make the wonderful films that emerged in the 1970s.

It was my job to know them. To know what they were doing, befriend them…That gave me a very strong appreciation of the struggles and the commitment of Australian filmmakers and gave me an enormous respect for them. That’s the background to how I started out before I started reviewing. So I guess my approach to Australian films can be seen partly in that context.

Having said that, obviously you also have to be fair to the reader and the reviewer if the film is really bad, or doesn’t succeed. I mean, Australian films are rarely really bad. Very often they don’t succeed in what they set out to do. I had some problems with Snowtown. I thought Snowtown, although it had some very powerful performances, I thought maybe his (director Justin Kurzel) experience was shown in the way he set characters up at the beginning. I felt there were some elements in the film that didn’t work for me but I said it, I hope, in a positive way.

“you also have to be fair to the reader and the reviewer if the film is really bad”

Do you read much film criticism? What publications and writers do you recommend?

I never read film reviews until after I’ve seen the film and reviewed it. You know what it’s like: you can get even unconsciously influenced, so I don’t do that. I’m amazed sometimes when I’ve written a review and then later on I read somebody else’s review and they make the exact same points I’ve made. I think God, somebody reading my review might think I’ve been influenced by them!

When I go to see a film I like to know as little about it as possible. All I know is the name. I don’t even know where it’s from. I don’t know who made it (or) who’s in it. I don’t want to know any of that. I don’t watch any trailer for any film I haven’t seen. If a trailer comes on for a film I haven’t seen, I’ll either leave the cinema or close my eyes. I just don’t want to know any of that. So I go completely cold to every film that I see. As soon as possible after I’ve seen the film I write quite comprehensive notes. Not a review, but notes for me, of my immediate reactions to the film. Those notes will later form the basis of what I write for The Australian or At the Movies or when I used to write for Variety. The notes come first, which is everything I come out of the film instantly remembering.

So to continue your question, I read reviews later. As you know in Sydney you don’t get easy access to Melbourne papers so I don’t on a regular basis read the Melbourne reviews. But I see the national reviews and the Sydney reviews and I read them all. Internationally, I subscribe to Sight and Sound and Film Comment and I read the reviews in those magazines. I occasionally tune into Senses of Cinema as well.

Do you have any particularly favourite writers?

I think Tom Ryan, who wrote for the Sunday Age, is a terrific reviewer. I think Paul Byrnes in the Sydney Morning Herald is a terrific reviewer. So in Australia I would say probably those two. I’ve always had great admiration for Roger Ebert. These are reviewers who are positive. They don’t start from a negative; they don’t look for the worst in something first. That is what I like about them because that is what I feel too.

The internet has irrevocably altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism?

I’m not sure it’s had too much. I’m glad you say film criticism is a craft. I’m not sure the internet has had that much influence but I think it’s marvelous that so many people now are able to put their reviews out there. I think that can only be great because first of all it’s an indication that anybody is able to review films, and they do, and that’s great. The more the better. It also probably opens many people’s eyes up to different views and different opinions. So that’s great.

My next question was going to focus on when you decided you wanted to become a film critic. But you didn’t know you wanted to be one, so that doesn’t really apply, does it?

I never wanted to be one, really. Well, it’s not that I wanted or didn’t want to be one, I never thought about it. If you’ve read my book you’ll know that at a very young age I became involved in the film society movement in Britain. I came out to Australia, became involved with the Sydney Film Festival and directed that for 18 years. Through that I got to know a lot of people in Melbourne too, by the way, because I used to come regularly to the Melbourne Film Festival and meet the Melbourne film buffs. Then when I decided to quit the Sydney Film Festival – because I thought 18 years was enough for anybody – I had no specific job in mind, except that I’d been hired by SBS to program the feature films. At that time I was asked – and the first journal to ask me was Variety, who had one of their film reviewers recently die, and they asked me to take over as reviewer and cover films in major festivals including Cannes, Berlin, Venice, Toronto and Montreal.

The first reviewing I did was for Variety, then I was invited by the Sydney Morning Herald to do a few reviews for them when their regular reviewer was on holiday. Finally I was invited by The Australian to write for them, and then we started – me and Margaret Pomeranz – to approach SBS management for a film review program like Siskel and Ebert in America, or like Barry Norman in England. So you know what happened about that.

I guess the irony is that yourself and Margaret seem to have slipped into the film criticism industry whereas it is surrounded by hopefuls and have-nots. People are desperate to have these jobs now.

Yes, you could say that is an irony. The problem is, and I’ll tell you that I’m probably speaking out of turn here, for the last couple of years I’ve been talking to ABC management about preparing for a transition, so that when Margaret and I finally retire from this they have got a couple of young reviewers ready to take over. And they won’t do it. They just are not interested. Their view is that when we retire, that’ll be it, because nobody else can do it, which is nonsense. Nonsense. There are any number of young reviewers who could do it very well, and probably even better, but they won’t even consider it. At least so far. I mean, I am keeping on trying. I am pushing every chance I get because I think it would be sad and ridiculous to let the program die when it could be equally as successful if they found the right combination…They point to the fact that when we left SBS the replacement people didn’t work. But they didn’t maybe choose the right people, I don’t know.

“Their view is that when we retire, that’ll be it, because nobody else can do it, which is nonsense”

If these thoughts are rumbling around in your head, does that mean you’re considering retiring any time soon?

Well, I mean, we finished up 25 years last year and this is our 26^th year. That’s enough, isn’t it? (chuckles)

It depends on who you ask. I would say not enough, but I’m a fan of the show. 

You don’t have to do it every week!

The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?



I am there to watch the film and I make notes. I can’t eat as well as make notes. No, I don’t like popcorn. Popcorn was an American thing, one of these things introduced into Australia I think in the early 80s, and it’s got such a horrible smell. I’m not a popcorn fan at all.

I love the smell of popcorn. I think maybe it’s because I find it immediately conjures up images of the cinema.

I think it probably has done that but you see for me it doesn’t, because what conjured images of the cinema in my youth were quite different smells. To me it’s an American thing. People always used to have popcorn in American cinemas. I didn’t have it but it was always there and you could always smell it – the bloody cinemas always smelt of popcorn, but it was never something I liked very much.

Moving onto the subject of tear jerkers. Do you often cry when you’re watching a film? If so when was the last time you blubbered up?

Oh look, I do, but not so much contemporary films. I was talking about this recently. Earlier this year there was some film called The Vow, which is obviously meant to make you tear up but it didn’t work for me at all. Maybe because it wasn’t a very good film. There are certain films that I have great trouble sitting through – well, not sitting through, I can sit through them — but they move me emotionally quite strongly. So yeah I’m not ashamed to say I have been known to cry in the cinema. I think we used this maybe in our 25^th anniversary program. I’d once gone to a festival to see a film that starred Kate Winslet. When I went to interview her later on somebody had told her they saw me wiping away a tear at the end of the film, and she challenged me with this!

Who are you five of your favourite living directors?

Well, that’s not very easy. That’s a hard one. I guess I would say Clint Eastwood. I would say Martin Scorsese. The last two films I saw of his were terrific – the George Harrison documentary, which is really very very good – and Hugo. But the couple of films he made before that I was quite disappointed by.  They were well made films but they didn’t engage me the way his best films do. At one stage I would have said Woody Allen, but Woody Allen has made a startling number of really bad films. But Clint Eastwood has consistently made films that have interested me. Some are obviously better than others but they are always on a certain level of achievement and interest. Also because he represents a classical kind of cinema that I very much respond to. In a certain sense I derive more pleasure from the cinema these days when I am watching films made from another era than contemporary. There are some exceptions, obviously.

Does this feeds into your, is it fair to call it a pet peeve, against films you perceive to unnecessarily use handheld devices? You’ve talked a lot about this on At the Movies before. 

Yeah. There is nothing wrong with handheld cameras per se. Some great films were shot with handheld cameras. What I strongly dislike is the Paul Greengrass style of throwing the camera all over the place, zooming in on irrelevant things and then over-editing to the point where you reach the stage of nausea. I know that generation X or Y or whatever it is like this sort of thing. They’ve got no time or patience for character development and they just want action and so on. I’m sorry, it makes me sick and I really don’t like it. So there’s nothing wrong with handheld camera per se, it’s just when it’s badly used.

What are some of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years?

Just off the top of my head, Lantana. I think that’s a great film by any standard. I thought Burning Man last year was fantastic.

What is your first memory of the cinema? Or, if not the first, then your earliest recollection of watching films? 

I started going to the cinema when I was very young. My grandmother took me, so my early memories are mostly those Disney films that kids of my generation were taken to, like Bambi. The thing was, in those days there was continuous performances, so you would go in – my grandmother anyway would take me in, and we’d sometimes go in in the middle of the feature and see it ‘round’, as the expression was. So you would see the last part of the feature and then you would sit through the trailer and the newsreel and the cartoon and the supporting film and then you’d see the beginning of the feature again. When you got to the point where you came in, if you were enjoying it you would see it again or get up and leave at that point. I have vivid memories of coming in on films that were halfway through, or nearly ending, and then seeing them round.

Alfred Hitchcock of course was one of the people who were very much against that tradition and he worked that to his advantage, as I assume you’d agree

When Psycho was released in 1960, Hitchcock was powerful enough to make several stipulations, one of which was that no photographs of the film would be shown in the lobby, or outside the cinema. It had very simple posters (saying) nobody would be allowed in after the film had started. That in itself was a great publicity campaign. People were forced, quite against their normal habit, to line up for the start of the film. And it worked. I remember the very first session of Psycho in the town I was living in at the time. There was a cue about a mile long.

Richard Wilkins, Nine Network entertainment editor and TODAY Show film reviewer, belongs to the latter camp. There is nothing pretentious about the veteran TV presenter, who has worked for Nine for a quarter of a century and built a reputation as Australia’s go-to guy for red carpet reportage.

“I’ve always loved movies. I’ve always had an opinion and I like putting my thoughts down on paper. But I don’t think of myself as necessarily a film critic — more a bloke who goes to see a lot of movies and is happy to pass on his opinion,” Wilkins tells Cinetology from his office in Sydney.

Wilkins has attended more premieres and interviewed more celebrities than he can count, but still relishes the opportunity to mingle with the glitterati.

“Obviously I get to interview them (celebrities) when they are promoting movies and stuff like that. But to see them all together, all the year’s crop dressed up to the nines and full of expectations, is pretty wild. Everybody is happy on the red carpet. The disappointment and disillusion sets in after the awards are given out.”

Well liked inside the Nine stable, Wilkis is also envied, it seems by fellow broadcaster Karl Stefanovic. Last August, at the launch of Wilkins’ book Black Ties, Red Carpets, Stefanovic, after partaking in a long boozy lunch with Nine CEO David Gyngell, made the following remark:

“I know three things about Richard Wilkins – great bloke, big hair, massive cock.”

“Karl is an intoxicating mix of world’s best broadcaster and naughty school boy,” Wilkins says. “Add alcohol, and he’s prone to extreme exaggeration.”

Wilkins is the ninth participant in Meet the Critics, which profiles the viewing habits of Australia’s leading film reviewers. For the complete list of other interviewees so far, visit the Meet the Critics landing page.

What’s it like, preparing to grace the red carpet and interview celebrities? Is it like a kind of star-studded meat market? Would you say it was stressful, or fun, or…

I’m always pretty apprehensive about it because you go home and get your tail kicked if Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban stroll right past you without stopping. It’s like a giant tidal wave. A tsunami of glitterati that walk down the red carpet. You need to somehow attract their attention and get them to come over and it’s not always easy. There’s a lot of adrenaline going, a lot of pressure, and everybody’s got their expectations about who they are going to interview. We’ve all come from different parts of the world, representing different territories, and everybody’s got the same people on their hit lists. Everybody wants to get George Clooney and Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp and blah blah blah. It’s a jungle. What can I say?

Having been on TV for so long — and this is something I touched on when I spoke to Margaret Pomeranz — you have become a sort of celebrity yourself. I imagine wherever you go people recognise you. Is this something that ever bothers you?

I don’t really think about it that much. I got my first taste of that when I started doing the MTV program back in the late 80s and early 90s and I figured then that anybody who recognised you as you walk through a supermarket is probably someone who sits up late watching music clips and probably likes them. People would come up and say things like “hhheeeeyyyy, play more ACDC” and stuff like that. A little bit of that comes with the territory. I had quite a funny experience the other day when I was in the supermarket. When I first started at Channel Nine, David Leckie talked me into doing this summer fill in for Sale of the Century, which was the staple program at 7pm. We did I think 100 episodes of this bloody show called Key Notes which was a musical guessing tune game. It was pretty rinkydink. Anyway I did it against my better judgement. They replayed the thing ad neuseum at 3am in the morning for years and years and out of all the things I’ve done this little kid came  up to me and said “are you the guy from Key Notes?” You just want to take him behind the fruit counter and slap him. That was sort of funny. Most people are pretty cool.

Can you describe the process of how you go about constructing film reviews, for example how much time you spend on each review and what the broadcasting process is like?

I don’t read any reviews before I write mine. I’ll read the production notes. My reviews I think are pretty broad brush stroke kind of stuff. I try to cover the main releases each week and I’ve probably got about three and a half or four minutes to do that in. I’ll have a look at what vision we have to play with, because there is no point in talking about a certain scene if we don’t have vision of it. Normally we have trailers and sometimes an EPK and some scene clips and things. We normally won’t put interviews with the filmmakers or the stars on the actual movie review day. We choose to reviews films on Thursdays which is the day most of them are released, and TODAY is the name of the show, so it seemed like a no-brainier.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know that you wanted to be one?

I don’t really think of myself as being a film critic. I’ve never ever described myself as being a film critic. I’m the entertainment editor for the Nine Network. I do daily reports for the TODAY Show and my job has sort of evolved into this. I’ve always loved movies. I’ve always had an opinion and I like putting my thoughts down on paper. But I don’t think of myself as necessarily a film critic — more a bloke who goes to see a lot of movies and is happy to pass on his opinion. I think a lot of people — and I’m talking about our viewers now — become familiar with you. They might come to broadly agree with your taste or come to violently disagree with it, but at least they become familiar. It’s horses for courses and we are all entitled to our opinions. You have to be pretty brave and fearless and call things as you see it. You’re not going to get anywhere, I don’t think, as a film critic, reviewer, observer or whatever you want to call yourself if you just say everything is kind of good and give everything three stars. You have to staple your colours to the mast at every opportunity.

What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?

I don’t really see the point of popcorn. Having said that, I took the kids to the cinema the other day and there was already boxes of popcorn on the seats when we got there. I guess we are lucky in the business; we get to go along to these previews and take the family. All of them get dreadfully spoiled and come to expect that sort of thing. Me and my son Christian had a rule that, you know, we weren’t going to get popcorn every time we go to the movies, because he comes with me a lot. So we will go and have lunch together, a sandwich, a bite to each before we go or something. Exhibitors actually make more money selling soft drinks and popcorn than they do tickets.

Do you take notes in the cinema?

I used to take notes but I haven’t recently. I don’t know why that is. Maybe my pen is broken, I’m not sure. I used to jot down not huge, copious amounts but just things from time to time if something sticks out. Sometimes you come up with a good line, or a tag line, or something you think you can weave into a review. I sometimes do that and sometimes don’t. I used to do it all the time. Now I probably do it about half the time.

Moving onto the subject of tear jerkers, do you ever cry during a movie?

Oh yeah, I’m a sucker for a choke-up. I’m a big old softie. I love a good chick flick, a rom-com. I used to cry in those Telecom ads when the family called home. I think I have pretty broad mainstream tastes. The last time I teared up in a movie, hmm, I don’t know. Filmmakers are pretty talented people, most of them. When they start pushing all those buttons and the orchestra swells and there are heart strings and the loved-up couple are reuniting in the railway station or something — if it’s done well that’ll get me, for sure.

Who are some of your favourite directors? 

I’m a big fan of people like Phillip Noyce and Fred Schepisi. On the questions of favourites I don’t know where to start and where to finish. Stuff that Peter Jackson does in our little old New Zealand is pretty amazing. I love Christopher Nolan as a director. Scorcese, all those people. I loved Hugo; I thought that was brilliant.

What is one cinematic experience that you recall very fondly?

I’ve been lucky enough to go to a few premieres over the years. I went to one of the Bond premieres in London, once, and it was a Pierce Brosnan one. I can’t remember which. I must have got on the wrong list or something because I found myself with a ticket to actually go to the film as well as the red carpet. I of course went along and it was the first time I’d seen — and it’s semi common place now — actually seen what was happening outside, inside. The people inside sitting waiting for the film to start were treated to footage from three or four cameras outside of the guests arriving and all that sort of stuff. That was a bit of a buzz. This is going back a while — ten, twelve years ago — and seeing the royal party arrive. I think it was Prince Charles. Seeing them arrive for the premiere, shake hands, move inside the theatre, and everybody stood up. I thought that was pretty cool.

I got into this business because I love what I do. I love music, I love show biz, I love entertainment. I started playing the violin when I was a kid and singing in choirs. I love the smell of the grease paint, the roar of the crowd. When I am sitting down at the start of a film, or at the start of a concert, or it’s a night for a play at the theatre, I’m full of expectation and anticipation and excitement. I really want it to be good. I really want to have a great night. That’s sort of what I take with me to an event and I really appreciate and never take for granted the fact that I have somehow managed to land a gig that allows me to do those things in the line of duty.

On the occasions when you don’t have a great time, do you ever walk out on films or do you always feel an obligation to stay? 

I live my life bang-bang-bang. Doing live television, I guess, does that to you. I get really frustrated and angry when people keep me waiting because I have my day pretty well planned. I know if one person holds me up for half an hour, it’s like a domino effect. It has me running late all day. So sometimes if they start a screening late and I have found out the running time on IMDB and I have allowed eight minutes for the credits and I know I have to be somewhere else straight after that, I will sometimes miss the last ten mintues of the film, which is not ideal — but then again I know I am not going to reveal what happens in the last ten minutes to the audience! So I figure that’s OK and I’ll pick it up on a flight somewhere. But that doesn’t happen very often.

With regards to philosophy re: sitting in the cinema, are you a back row sitter? A front row sitter? Why?

I like to sit around the mid areas if I can. I do have a habit that my son doesn’t like very much. I will take my shoes off all the time because I love wearing bare feet. I never wear shoes around the house and often slip my shoes off in the office and gad around in my socks. I sometimes throw a t-shirt in the back seat of my car; in fact I’ve got one in the office here. Sometimes you go to these screening rooms and they are really cold. Other times they’re quite warm, you know, depending on the air conditioning settings, so you need to dress accordingly. I love to slip my shoes off if they have those nice seats where you can get your feet through the gap in the seats in front of you. I will always pick a seat where you can do that.

What advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

To aspiring filmmakers, just go for it. Be brave and make it entertaining. I go along to be entertained, informed, amused, thrilled and shocked, I guess. And to film critics, go and get another job. There are enough of us already!

Throughout the 90s Morris, a marketing graduate, worked in PR for a range of companies including a major film distributor. His employer wanted to gain an insight into movie reportage in the online realm — the internet being a relatively new phenomenon — and assigned Morris to liaise with and monitor movie websites.

Armed with an address book chock-full of contacts and plenty of insider knowledge, Morris decided to create Moviehole in 1998, the year in which — he takes unusual pleasure in noting — the artistic genius of Leslie Nielsen’s Spy Hard was unleashed into cinema’s worldwide.

“I became engrossed in the online movie universe and came to the conclusion that I should probably jump on that loco before it heads towards a bigger populace,” he tells Cinetology. “Till this day, I think my parents still think I’ve made a living running a porn site.”

Moviehole went on to become one of Australia’s most popular movie websites, and, a decade and a half later, is still very much alive and kicking. It’s also very much a time consuming affair, particularly for a job that doesn’t completely pay the bills.

“It really should be something I do full-time, but honestly, there’s not enough money in it alone to warrant that,” Morris concedes.

On the question of what advice he would offer to potential movie webmasters and bloggers, he says: “if you want to maintain a loyal and large following you have to offer up something different and that’s a challenge, especially with the huge amount of film websites out there. Unless you put your own spin on the news or offer up something exclusive — scoops and exclusives is something we’ve become renowned for — people just aren’t going to click.”

Morris is the eighth participant in Cinetology’s Meet the Critics series, which examines the philosophies and viewing habits of the country’s leading film reviewers. Participants have included the ABC’s Margaret Pomeranz, The Age’s Jake Wilson, The Australian’s Evan Williams and The Sydney Morning Herald’s Sandra Hall. Morris is the first internet-based critic to join the fold.

His interview with Cinetology was unexpectedly delayed but the 36-year-old writer has an excuse just about as good as they come. Morris’ health was dealt an unexpected turn when in March he was diagnosed with a pancreatic tumour. The tumour was the final (hopefully) chapter in eighteen gruelling months of pancreatic issues for the father-of-one.

Morris didn’t walk away unscathed from the ordeal, either emotionally or physically, he says, but is expected to make a full recovery.

The first words he uttered when Cinetology asked him how he was feeling were: “I’ve missed soooo many movies!”

Do you read much film criticism? If so, what publications and writers do you recommend?

I read a lot of film criticism, be it of the archaic variety — that is, those whose nightly meals are sponsored by a print publisher — or online. Heck, it’s even worth taking note of some of the comments scrawled on the backdoor of the public restroom stalls sometimes. I’m an especially big fan of the artist behind “Sandler can blow me!” That dude knows his stuff.

Since about the age of twelve or thirteen I’ve been an avid reader of film criticism. I subscribed to everything from Film Comment to Film Threat, Movieline and, of course, TVHits, if only to get the definitive word on what Shannen Doherty’s latest was like.

With the dwindling number of print publications around these days, I seem to stick mostly to reading the reviews of the online type — Devin Faraci, Brian Orndorf, ‘Scriptshadow’ and so on. Even those that I would’ve otherwise read in print, like Roger Ebert, Leigh Paatsch, Julian Shaw, Tom Ryan or Giles Hardie, I will read online now, since their print reviews are generally published the same day and date online too.

I have to admit to missing the late great Ivan Hutchinson and, of course, Pauline Kael, from the critic landscape. They remain two of the best film critics of all time. 

In your opinion what if anything is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

Besides the fact that, with fifty million film blogs and numerous other avenues to rant about film, we’re now all fighting for your attention? That isn’t so much a problem as it is life, I guess. People love to jump on the bandwagon, especially if that bandwagon is accessible. But unfortunately, and unlike the old days when you had to buy a copy of the paper or Movieline to read a review, anyone with a keyboard and a copy of Microsoft Word can now call themselves a reviewer. There’s no screening process, no interview and no regulation when it comes to online reviewing.

I’m not excluding myself from the equation, though I did begin my reviewing career in commercial radio and soon after, print. Maybe there should be? Maybe there should be some kind of test of one’s film knowledge or ability to write before they’re allowed to rent reviewing space on the web? Because what’s happened is, all the critics are thrown — the good, the bad and the ugly of film critics — into the same box. Many will slap a couple of illiterate but conceited clowns into the same box as a veteran film journalist of some forty years, merely because they both write about film. I guess what I’m saying is we’re drowning in lots of amateur, crap film criticism now. It’s a tough job to sift through it all — especially if you’re a film publicist, I imagine, which is likely why some have no choice but to just lump us all in the one box.

It’s also sometimes difficult to spot an honest review from one sponsored by the distributor, so to speak. Oh, I forgot. The Payola scandal is in the past. My mistake.

The internet has permanently altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism?

As I said, there’s a lot of crap criticism out there now, largely due to the internet giving out free reviewing cards. The boom in net criticism has also hurt the print industry too, of course, for numerous reasons. I don’t know about you but I really miss the days of going to a movie and actually being surprised. Not knowing everything about it. I love that the internet has given me a career. I hate it that it spoilt the ending of The Expendables for me.

But do I think internet critics carry weight? Yes, many do. Remember what happened when Aint it Cool News ran that review of Batman & Robin all those years ago? Warner Brothers freaked out and continued to do so once they realised that audiences were staying away in droves largely due to those negative online reviews. If a website with some credibility or even simply a big following trashes a film, there’s going to be a lot — and I mean a lot — of people skipping that picture. In some respects, online critics can kill a film more than a print critic can. I don’t know how many times I’ve had a frantic email or call from a distributor asking if I can tweak a review or, in exchange for a pair of merchandise undies, say something more positive about a particular film. The studios are obviously quite aware how much weight and influence online critics have now. Why do you think there are so many embargoes these days? Because the studio knows that, should a review of a crappy film run on the net a week or so before the pic opens, that it’ll hurt them. Maybe not a great deal, but still, it will hurt. So yes, some of us web critics are to be feared. I guess.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know you wanted to be one?

Someone, I thought, should be out there warning people about the dangers of sitting through the Porky’s trilogy. No, in all seriousness, I have always loved film. I worked at drive-ins and movie theatres since I was a teenager.

I believe I was about 16 or 17 when I started reviewing for local radio, which led to a regular gig as a radio announcer for a few years, if only because I was the only film fanatic in country Victoria that knew his Cimino’s from his Friedkin’s. I know, I know, what a sad life I must have led. No matter which station I ended up at, I’d always end up saddling the film reviewing job. I didn’t complain. I even got to see Sliver a few days before release. But the experience on radio led to some reviewing work with a couple of newspapers and magazines and a TV show.

By the time I was 21 I was working in marketing and publicity, but I never let the film reviewing go completely. In fact, it was while working at a film distribution company that I came up with the idea of creating Moviehole. That was 14 years ago. And have you noticed there hasn’t been a Porky’s 4? Thank me, man.

The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?

Being a diabetic, choc-tops and lollies are my enemies. I have been known to sneak a healthy sandwich or roll into a screening, particularly if it’s a screening around meal time. Nobody wants to hear the crash of a diabetic fall to the ground from low blood sugar while watching Dear John. Oh, and I’ll sometimes grab a diet coke or latte if a cute publicist is paying.

Do you take notes in the cinema? If so, how extensive are they?  

Notes? No man, I’m a freelancer. We deal in coins only. But no, no notes for me, though if I’m solo at a screening I may drag out the iPhone to make a few quick ones. That’s unusual for me though. I like to watch the film, not my pen humping a pad.

Moving onto the subject of eye moistening: when (if ever) was the last time you cried while watching a film and what was it?

I mentioned Sliver before, yeah?

Well, hmm, I tell ya, I don’t know if it was maybe because I was pretty ill at the time and thus, in a bad place, but Terry Malick’s The Tree of Life got to me. And I have felt a lump in the throat over the years in a few flicks, ones that I’m not especially keen to reveal. OK, here’s a few. There’s Walk to Remember. I mean, she died, man? Gimme a break! There’s Forrest Gump. Jenny just didn’t know how to love him back, ya know? There’s even, dare I say, Rocky Balboa. The Italian Stallion went out on top. Even though he’s a loser now.

What are five of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years?

What was the one with Xavier Samuel and Olivia Newton-John? Not that one. I loved Animal Kingdom, of course, but didn’t everybody? Still, it was a highpoint for Oz cinema. I also thought Rachel Ward’s Beautiful Kate was a mesmerizing bit of cinema. Balibo was excellent, Snowland was a gritty piece of discomfort and The Black Balloon was stupendous.

Oh, and Superman Returns, of course!

What is your first memory of the cinema?

Bambi. And, though I believe I was only sitting in a car outside of it, a Drive-in screening Flash Gordon.  

Can you describe the strangest experience at the cinema you’ve ever had?

I was an usher at a cinema when I was about 15 and we were screening the new Corey Haim and Corey Feldman movie License to Drive. I had never seen such a cavalcade of unstable, squealing teenage girls! They were everywhere! It was like a zombie invasion sponsored by Dolly magazine! I remember one attendee, in particular, wearing a straw cowboy hat — as all hot girls do, right? — asking if I would sit with her during the movie. The manager gave it the OK, so I owe Mr Feldman and Mr Haim for that pick up. 

Looking back over your filmic life, what is the cinematic experience you recall most fondly?

It’s probably always going to be seeing my own name in the credits of something, because I’ve produced a couple of films, but I think, in terms of a film buff, I’ll never forget sitting down for the original Star Wars films. In particular, The Empire Strikes Back.

And, honestly, I miss the days of the old ‘Village Candy Counter’ ad. It would play before all the flicks in the ’80s. Even Staying Alive played better after such boppy commercials. Ads and atmosphere, I tell ya, that’s what made a good movie in the Reagan-era!

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay? If so what was the last film you walked out on?

Now that I’ve a four-year old I seem to be walking out of quite a few movies, if only because she won’t sit still or isn’t enjoying it. I missed half of Rango and Pirates! A Band of Misfits because of young Charisma’s reluctance to chill and enjoy.

I think the last one I personally walked out on was The Grudge 2 – not just because for the film was absolutely dreadful but because of the uncomfortable seats in this particular cinema and the loud, obnoxious crowd sitting to the right of us. I also had to leave ten minutes before the ending of Backdraft to catch The Commitments in the cinema next door. Does that count?

There’s a common assumption that critics have a very large home collection of films. Is that true for you?

Too many, I’m afraid. Literally thousands. Qhen Blu-ray first came onto the scene I said to myself ‘I’m only going to buy those must-have Blu-ray titles’. That didn’t happen. I now own Kickboxer, Moonstruck and Risky Business on Blu-ray, if that tells you anything.

With regards to philosophy re: sitting in the cinema, are you a back row sitter? A front row sitter? Why?

Middle. Just in case the girl in the straw hat wants to join me. It’s easier for her to spot me there.

What advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

Have another job, something that puts food on the table, at the same time. I’ve had to do it. It’s not easy. It’s a real juggle. But believe me, unless you’re employed by a big-time outlet — and even then — you’re going to need a few more bucks than what you’ll be making, at least at the start, reviewing and/or playing with your Nikon. But while manning the cash-register at Bunnings, or doing computer fix-it work from home, persevere and don’t give up on your dreams!

As Colleen Dewhurst said in The Boy Who Could Fly: “maybe if you wish hard enough and love long enough, anything is possible.”

If film reviewers are a dime a dozen these days – at least outside mainstream media outlets – those with CVs that look even a smidge like The Australian‘s Evan Williams are anything but.

Williams, a critic for The Oz since 1981, has a particular fondness for political movies, even though he approaches them with a heightened sense of scepticism.

If the veteran cinephile has a keen interest in political speeches in film, it’s for a good reason: he used to write them. Not the ones in the movies. The ones in real life.

In addition to serving as Gough Whitlam’s press secretary from 1973 to 1977, Williams was one of the former Prime Minister’s speechwriters. He also wrote speeches for Premiers Bob Carr, Morris Iemma, Nathan Rees and Kristina Keneally and worked as a consultant to the NSW Premier from 2001 to 2011.

“I am no longer involved in politics,” Williams tells Cinetology, “though for a while I feared that my friend Bob Carr would ask me to do some work for him.”

He says Carr (now Foreign Minister) has, to his knowledge, “never once used a speech written for him by me or anyone else. Like John Howard, he always writes his own.”

How, Cinetology asks Williams, has decades of working in politics affected the way he reads political films?

“I suppose working with politicians has made me more cynical…It’s so easy to spot the phoniness and exaggeration but I still love political films and wouldn’t miss one,” he says. “The old-fashioned idealist in me still insists that Mr Smith Goes to Washington is the best political film of all.”

Starting in journalism as a cadet for The Sydney Morning Herald in 1952, Williams won a Walkey award in 1970 for a series of investigatory SMH features about under-privileged people dubbed ‘The Battlers’. In 2006 he was awarded membership of the Order of Australia for service to public administration, especially in the field of the arts, festivals and the care of historic houses.

Williams doesn’t read a lot of film criticism – “there’s too much else I want to read” – and admits to never making the transition to the online sphere, either as a reader or a writer.

“I confess to being an incorrigibly print-biased, paper-oriented product of a lost journalistic age, ” he says.

Williams is the latest participant in Cinetology’s Meet the Critics series. Cherry picking writers from a variety of Australian media outlets and platforms, the series profiles the country’s leading film critics. For a complete list of interviewees, visit the Meet the Critics landing page.

Do you read much film criticism? If so, what publications and writers do you recommend?

I don’t read much film criticism. There’s too much else I want to read. I’ve just finished Alex Miller’s new novel and Anne Henderson’s superb biography of Joe Lyons and I’ve barely got started on the new Frank Moorhouse – all 700 pages of it. People often give me film books but I find much film writing academic and boring. The only criticism I read is in contemporary journals or anthologies. I’ve given up on Sight and Sound. I found a wonderful collection of Graham Greene reviews he wrote for the Spectator. There are excellent collections of David Thomson’s writing. Of contemporary critics I enjoy Anthony Lane and David Denby in The New Yorker. Both are better than Pauline Kael, who was widely revered but was a terrible sourpuss at times.

In your opinion what if anything is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

Is there anything wrong with the current state of film criticism? It’s probably no better or worse than it’s always been. In other words, we have a few good critics and a whole lot of others. It’s true that much of what passes for criticism is little more than infotainment, puffery and PR. But on the whole I think Australian readers are well served. Paul Byrnes, Sandra Hall, David Stratton, Lynden Barber, Tom Ryan would stand out in any company. As for public attitudes towards critics, I think we will always be treated with a certain healthy suspicion, combined of course with envy. People often say to me: “you mean you get paid to see films and write about them?” I get little sympathy when I reply that constantly seeing films and writing about them to deadlines can be a stressful occupation – however much we love movies.

The internet has irrevocably altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism? 

Unless I want to Google something to check some fact or other, I hardly ever use the internet. I don’t browse around on it. I don’t read bloggers. So I really can’t answer your question. I confess to being an incorrigibly print-biased, paper-oriented product of a lost journalistic age. I find it disconcerting that writers I once enjoyed reading in print now have to be sought out online. For example, I love reading my scurrilous friend Bob Ellis on anything to do with films, but can never be sure where his reviews appear. All that said, I think it’s probably true that the proliferation of writers makes it harder to separate the wheat from the chaff. Original and perceptive new voices can no doubt be found but you have to search for them. I suspect, as often happens, more means worse. When writers had to pass through multiple layers of screening and editorial filtering to find their way into print there was a rigorous system of quality control. We don’t get that now. Readers have more choices but not necessarily better ones.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know you wanted to be one?

I think I always wanted to be one. I was about five or six when I fell in love with the cinema – not just movies and stars but the whole magical technology of films. My parents gave me a tiny clockwork movie camera for my 13th birthday and it more or less transformed my life. I showed 9.5mm films on a hand-cranked projector at home. I loved putting on shows – and still do. When I was 17 Harold Levien started an independent magazine in Sydney called Voice – politics, criticism, that sort of thing – working out of a little room in Clarence Street. I went in one day and offered my services. Harold was prepared to give me a go and I was tremendously proud when he ran my first review of a Swedish film, One Summer of Happiness. Later when I worked on the Sydney Morning Herald, the editor, a delightful fellow called John Pringle, let me stand in for Charles Higham for a few months in 1968-69 and again in 1970. I reviewed some great films in those years – Midnight Cowboy, Rosemary’s Baby, and I was hooked. I put up my hand to be film critic for Australian Playboy in 1979, and Mark Day gave me plenty of space until the mag folded. But my big break came in 1981 when Maria Prerauer, then the arts editor of The Australian, invited me to be Geraldine Pascall’s successor and review each week in the Oz.  I’ve just notched up 31 years on the job.

The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?

I can honestly say that I never eat or drink during screenings. My wife and I saw a film in a multiplex the other day while a woman a few seats away consumed a whole packet of sweets, each one noisily retrieved from a bag and noisily unwrapped. Accusing stares and hisses had little effect. The practice of eating in cinemas has been encouraged in the multiplexes by having admission tickets sold only in the candy bar. One rarely finds a separate ticket office in cinemas now. Invariably when films are previewed for the media in a multiplex people will wander in after the advertised starting time bearing buckets of popcorn and coke. What’s happened to good manners?

Do you take notes in the cinema? If so, how extensive are they?

I like to write down what I call my little memory-joggers – the odd word or two to remind me of something, a fragment of dialogue. I never try to compose any critical thoughts or reflections. One problem is that I have great difficulty reading my own handwriting, especially when I’ve written in the dark.

Moving onto the subject of eye moistening: when (if ever) was the last time you cried while watching a film and what was it?

I’m not sure about the last time. I’ve probably grown hardhearted and callous in my mature years. But I remember the first time. I cried at the end of Lassie Come Home, and a few years ago, when I showed the film to my grandchildren I may have had another quiet blub. The great Hollywood tearjerkers – Random Harvest, Mrs Miniver, The Best Years of Our Lives – usually had me misty-eyed, and a remember a moment in A Night to Remember when a father says goodbye to his infant son before going down in the Titanic. That moved me more than anything in James Cameron’s picture.

What are five of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years?

I hope I’m allowed to include Lantana, which may be just outside the time-frame, but I once named it as my favourite Australian film of all. Samson and Delilah, The Tracker and Ivan Sen’s first film, Beneath Clouds, were all wonderful in their way. Snowtown was a brilliant piece of work, as was Wolf Creek, if you like that sort of thing, and I admired The Eye of the Storm, especially for the acting of Judy Davis and John Gaden. There have been many others. I’m not sure if The King’s Speech was an Australian film – if so, I’d certainly include it.

What is your first memory of the cinema?

Seeing the Disney short The Three Little Pigs at the Star Theatre in Bondi Junction. It was the start of my infatuation.

Looking back over your filmic life, what is the cinematic experience you recall most fondly?

I’d have to say, seeing Olivier’s Richard III at the Athenaeum Theatre in Melbourne in August 1956. I’d met my wife two days before, and yes, it was our first date. She’s put up with a lot of awful films since.

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay? If so what was the last film you walked out on?

I’ve never walked out on any film I’m reviewing, though I’m not one of those who remain conscientiously seated to the very last frame of the end-credits. When I was a boy I walked out of Rhapsody in Blue because I was too young or too stupid to appreciate Gershwin, but I’d rate it now among my favourite musical biopics.

There’s a common assumption that critics have a very large home collection of films. Is that true for you?

I wouldn’t have more than a few hundred, and I’ve never collected compulsively, or even very seriously. I tend to go for particular genres or names – musicals, Shakespeare films, Hitchcock, Kubrick, Powell and Pressburger, the sort of stuff usually sold in boxed sets.  I don’t see much point in collecting current films that can be borrowed from the local video shop. These days, of course, a lot can be obtained, legally or otherwise, through the internet. For Christmas a friend gave me a downloaded copy of So Long at the Fair, the charming 1950 film with Dirk Bogarde and Jean Simmons. I put it on for some friends at home and it looked great on a big screen.

With regards to philosophy re sitting in the cinema, are you a back row sitter? A front row sitter? Why?

No strict preference. Too close and the definition can get fuzzy or the picture can seem disproportionately large, too far back and one loses a sense of involvement and immediacy. I like to feel I’m an average member of the audience so I go for the middle distance. When I was a kid we had seats in row K for our Friday night family outing to the pictures, and even now, if I see row K in a cinema, I’ll probably go for it.

Finally, what advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

There are no easy roads. If you’re an aspiring critic, keep practising the craft, see all the films that matter, post your own stuff on your website, and read the best work of the best people. Be yourself and be honest. If you’re an aspiring filmmaker, look for a good story and tell it with economy and clarity. And keep trying.

“I don’t read much film criticism at all,” he tells Cinetology. “I certainly love watching movies in my spare time, but reading other reviews is too close to being work.”

Free, who also reviews films on ABC 702, is the perfect embodiment of the old “write for free then one day you might get paid for it” ethos. He has contributed to FilmInk for nearly two decades, writing for the mag since its embryonic years. Back then Free was happy to contribute for nix “while washing dishes and cleaning toilets to pay the bills.” He was later offered the job of Contributing Editor, then Editor.

“Sometimes working for free can pay off in the end,” he says, installing at least a modicum of hope into the minds of any film blogger currently reading this post. Free believes the internet has achieved great things for the culture of film criticism but is wary of the quality of the writing and who is creating it.

“There’s no filter now – anyone can be a critic – and sometimes that’s not such a good thing,” he says. “At least in print media, you have to be able to string a couple of sentences together and you can’t be thirteen-years-old.”

Free is the fifth participant in Cinetology’s Meet the Critics series, which spotlights the attitudes, viewing habits and cinematic diets of the country’s leading film reviewers. Previous participants are the Triple J’s Marc Fennell, Sydney Morning Herald’s Sandra Hall, ABC’s Margaret Pomeranz, The Age’s Jake Wilson and The Australian’s Lynden Barber.

Do you read much film criticism? If so, what publications and writers do you recommend?

No, I don’t read much film criticism at all. I certainly love watching movies in my spare time, but reading other reviews is too close to being work. Plus I don’t like to second-guess myself, and worry about why I’m the only person who liked or disliked a film. That said, I do have enormous respect for some critics, such as Sandra Hall, Peter Galvin and many others.

In your opinion, what if anything is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

We need film critics. That will never change. If a punter is willing to spend twenty bucks to see a movie at the local multiplex, they’re entitled to a little guidance if they choose to seek it out. Outside of reviews, all the cinemagoer can rely on is the film’s advertising campaign and media interviews with the cast and crew. Both of these come with a rather large helping of bias and self interest. The critic is usually the only individual talking publicly about a film who doesn’t have a vested interest in it and the importance of that can’t be under estimated. Just as checks and balances are instituted in other forms of business, so the critic stands outside the process and offers an evaluation untainted by direct involvement. That’s of vital importance. As I mentioned previously, I don’t read a lot of film criticism, so I can’t really comment about the state of it right now. All I know is that paying moviegoers are entitled to an unbiased opinion about a film if they so choose.



The internet has irrevocably altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism?

The internet has been great in terms of democratising the world of film criticism. Film is a great populist art form, so this is wholly appropriate, and everyone can now have their say. While some of the internet film writing that I’ve read is great — for example dvdverdict.com has some excellent reviews — a lot of it seems to be about the sizzle and not the steak. The internet is all about ‘the buzz’, and I think  people give the web too much credit in terms of making and breaking films. Did internet geeks have anything to do with the success of films like Mamma Mia, Fast & Furious 5 or The King’s Speech? Probably not. The internet is great, but it can also be pretty stupid, especially when it comes to movies. A lot of internet discussion around movies tends to be snide, inane, reductive and immature — probably because a lot of it seems to emanate from teenage boys. There’s no filter now – anyone can be a critic – and sometimes that’s not such a good thing. At least in print media, you have to be able to string a couple of sentences together and you can’t be thirteen-years-old. Wait a minute…am I sounding old and bitter? Oh my god, sorry about that.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know you wanted to be one?


I’d loved movies from a very early age and had always wanted to talk about them. I first wanted to be a film reviewer in my teens. It actually happened in my early twenties when a friend of mine, Dov Kornits, started FilmInk. I worked on the magazine for free for many years while it was establishing itself, doing reviews and other things. I loved the magazine and what it stood for – I still do! – so I was happy to write for nothing, while washing dishes and cleaning toilets to pay the bills. When FilmInk became more successful, I was eventually offered the job of Contributing Editor, and then Editor, which I’m still doing now. I’ve been involved with FilmInk now for nearly twenty years. Sometimes working for free can pay off in the end.



The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?



Cinema candy bars are the biggest rip-offs on the planet. I try and avoid them at all costs. Sometimes I’ll get a violently over-priced choc-top, but that’s about it. My tip is, go to Woolworths, buy a backpack full of cheap lollies and chips and sneak them into the movies. Or make your own popcorn at home, and smuggle that in. It’s much cheaper!

Do you take notes in the cinema? If so, how extensive are they?



No, I don’t take any notes. I’m too busy watching the film! How can you get swept up in a film if you’re taking notes? If a film’s good, you should be able to remember it, right? When I see other critics taking notes, I usually wonder what the hell they could be writing. “George Clooney, geez, that guy’s handsome’? Note taking is for universities, not cinemas. At least for me, anyway.

Moving onto the subject of eye moistening: when (if ever) was the last time you cried while watching a film and what was it?

I never cry in movies. Ever . I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m just an arsehole.

Who are five of your favourite living directors?



Clint Eastwood, Oliver Stone, Martin Scorsese, Sean Penn and Quentin Tarantino.

What are five of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years?

The Proposition. Australia. I can already hear the groans for picking Australia but I don’t care! It’s a gorgeous film. Not Quite Hollywood. Kenny. Oranges And Sunshine.

What is your first memory of the cinema?

I got lost in the middle of the city when I was about four-years-old after seeing the Disney classic, Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs. I was returned to my distraught mother about three hours later after finally being picked up by the police. It’s weird that my first memory of the cinema is such a traumatic one! It certainly didn’t stop me. Or my mum! She pushed movies onto me all through my childhood, and continues to see just about every film released in the cinema. A lot more than me!

Can you describe the strangest experience at the cinema you’ve ever had?



Yeah, I vomited when I saw Kramer Vs. Kramer in 1979. I was nine-years-old and the scene where the kid fell off the monkey bars and cut his head made me sick. I think it was the sight of a little kid lying there bleeding – something that I could relate to, I guess – that made me so nauseous. I literally chucked up all over the carpet outside the cinema, but then went back in and watched the rest of the film. My mum wasn’t very happy. She was paranoid about me spewing at the sight of blood again at the movies, so we had to deliberate at length over every flick that she took me to. It was tough convincing her to take me to Mad Max 2. When I watch Kramer Vs. Kramer now, I can’t believe what a wimp I was. Great film though.



Looking back over your filmic life, what is the cinematic experience you recall most fondly?

It’s a big cliché – every film-loving guy my age would probably say this – but seeing Star Wars on the big screen in 1977 really did blow my mind. It inspired a deep love of movies that continues to this day. I even loved the prequels! Shoot me! And I don’t care that George Lucas continues to grind every last cent out of the films that he can. Star Wars was great, is great, and will always be great.

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay? 



I’ve never walked out of a film. Even if it’s terrible, I like to give a film the benefit of the doubt, and hold out some hope that it might get better. If someone has put their blood, sweat and tears into making a film, the least that I can do is watch it until the end, even if it sucks. I came close to splitting on A Shark’s Tale, but I stuck it out.

With regards to philosophy re: sitting in the cinema, are you a back row sitter? A front row sitter? Why?

I always sit about three or four rows from the front. My eyesight’s not the best, plus I like to feel immersed in the film, and have it almost wholly surrounding me. I just don’t get that when I’m sitting too far back from the screen.

 Finally, what advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

Sorry to end with a cliché, but I’d suggest having a backup plan. Both filmmaking and film criticism are tough professions to break into, and even if you do break into them, they’re often not very lucrative financially, unless you make it to the top. I’d suggest entering into it as a hobby, and if you actually end up making a living out of it, then that’s an absolutely massive bonus.

If you ever find yourself transcribing an interview with Marc Fennell, here’s a useful tip: slow the audio down. A lot.

“I talk fast at the best of times,” the Red Bull guzzling broadcaster tells Cinetology over the phone while he sits on a hammock, at a family gathering for his grandmother’s 80th birthday.

“I should warn you my phone battery might die at any moment. If that happens — and hopefully it doesn’t happen during the middle of a very awkward question — I don’t want you think I’m hanging up on you because I’m an arsehole.”

The phone does indeed conk out halfway through, and no — Cinetology doesn’t think he’s an arsehole, despite what he (jokingly) says next. “I mean I am an arsehole, but please don’t assume that.”

Anybody who has worked with the personable and self-deprecating Fennell, film critic for Triple J and Channel 10, is likely to describe him using very different terminology. The mainstream media in Australia offers no greater evidence against the blanket existence of the stereotypical critic — snooty, sombre, grey-haired and high-brow — than Fennell, whose style is loose, bouncy, chatty and unpretentious.

Fennell kicked off his career as the DVD film reviewer for the short-lived version of At the Movies without its stars, David Stratton and Margaret Pomeranz, which the SBS launched in 2004 after the famous pair migrated to the ABC. The general public weren’t the only people sceptical about an SBS film review show sans Stratton and Pomeranz. Fennell was too.

“I kid you not, my first thought was: that’s a terrible idea! Why would you recast The Movie Show without David and Margaret? It is David and Margaret!” he says.

“I like to joke that when they cast the (new) show they thought fuck me, they’re all white, we need somebody vaguely ethnic looking. Where’s that kid with the audition tape?”

Unlike the three other members of the rebooted At the Movies — Megan Spencer, Fenella Kernebone and Jaimie Leonarder — Fennell’s career in film criticism has subsequently taken off. In addition to his gig on Triple J and regular appearances on Channel 10′s The Circle, Fennell has recently become a published author, with the release of That Movie Book. He is the fifth participant (after Margaret Pomeranz, Jake Wilson, Lynden Barber and Sandra Hall) in Cinetology’s Meet the Critics series, which profiles the country’s leading film reviewers.

Do you consume much film criticism? What outlets and reviewers do you like, and why?

I try not to read specific reviews of films before I see them and even then I am very wary about reading other people’s opinions. In my early days as a film critic I was vehement that I wouldn’t read anybody else’s, and then after a while you become confident enough in your own opinion that you can use other people’s writing as a barometer against your own, but only after you’ve formed your opinion. What I do love reading is interviews and feature pieces. I’m on a couple of email lists I really love, a couple of email lists that combine some great stories from outlets like The LA Times and The Guardian. I love reading feature interviews, profile pieces on filmmakers and actors. Different people in the industry. I find that really interesting.

Reviewers I find interesting reading around the traps include Roger Ebert. It’s always really good to read him, not because I necessarily agree with what he’s saying but because he’s so wonderful at arguing his point. Even when I disagree worth him, which is frequently, he argues his points so well. I love the dexterity he has.

Within Australia, there are people who I quite enjoy, including Giles Hardie’s and Gary Maddox’s stuff from the SMH. In terms of the broad mainstream media that is kind of it.

Twitter has become one of the key ways I consume new media. A lot of it is feature interviews and a lot of it is news. I definitely go to places like Dark Horizons and I am a big fan of TV Tonight even though it’s not strictly speaking film. At various points I have tried to get into various film podcasts but nothing has really stuck with me, with the possible exception of a really good podcast that comes out of the UK called Director’s Notes. And there are two radio shows I can’t recommend enough: they are both from a radio station in the states — one is called The Treatment and the other is called The Business. They are both from KCRW in Santa Monica.

What if anything do you believe is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

OK, so there are two parts to that question: one about the state of Australian film criticism and the other about what’s wrong with the way film critics are perceived. I think they’re connected. I think film criticism suffers from a perception that film critics are not film fans. With a really great film critic, it’s very clear from the moment you read, see or hear them that they genuinely love film and want you to care about it. I think as a group sometimes we fall down and don’t seem passionate enough, seem too distant from our passion, which is plainly untrue because nobody becomes a film critic for the money! People do it because they love it and I think as a group we could do more to demonstrate our passion. In broadcast it’s a bit easier for me because you can kind of hear it in my voice, and often I’ve had way too many Red Bulls. I think the biggest problem with film criticism it that it sounds like a douche bag career.

What I like to do is treat the listener and the audience as a mate, essentially, as in ‘my god I just saw this film and I want to talk to you about it.’ As a strategy that’s worked OK for me and I think that with a lot of my favourite Australian film critics, that feeling is there. The critics I don’t like, they have this sense of sit back, a sense of remove, I suppose, for lack of a better word, and I think that feeds into a perception problem about what it means to be a film critic. But it’s hard because this was kind of a leading question. I think film criticism is better now than it was five years ago. The internet has opened this up in a massive way and there’s a bunch of really interesting, really good Australian film critics coming through at the moment. When I started doing film criticism in 2003 I was very young and it felt, at least in Sydney, that I was the only person my age doing it. When I walked into screenings it would be full of 40-year-olds who all knew each other. These days though there is a really strong culture of new young film critics and a lot of them are writing for online and for new publications. Things like Tresspass Magazine and Concrete Playground and people starting blogs. I think film criticism has been reinvigorated.

I also think more people are consuming film criticism. Places like Dark Horizons, Cinema Blend and countless other websites are dedicated to film. In a sense those websites have in some ways picked off where the mainstream publications have left off. These are places where you can, frankly, nerd the hell out. If you are a hard core nerd fan, there has never been a better time to exist. There are so many places on the net that are really dedicated to film criticism — from high brow film criticism and nerdy geek boy film criticism to everything in between. The flip side of that is there’s never been a better time to be a movie fan in the sense of access. It’s not just cinemas and VHS now – is are DVD, which has kind of come and gone in a way; there are countless devices that can hook up to your TV and give you more than a hundred years worth of cinema. In Australia, we have the second highest rate of illegal downloaders in the world. That’s one of the reasons I decided to write my book (That Movie Book), because I suddenly realised we have so many access to cinema that you don’t even need to leave your freakin’ couch to access it. But we always still gravitate towards new releases and wouldn’t it be fun to give people a reason to consume films from other eras? That’s how writing my book came about — to find a way to let young people access older film culture in a way that made sense. Anyway, I’ve totally digressed. Did I answer the question in any way, shape or form?

Yes, absolutely. When you said you have memories of being quite young and going to media screenings surrounded predominantly by males with grey hair, that resonated with myself. I started going to media screenings when I was 16. But now, you’re right, the tide has turned. And on the subject of film critics, how did you become one and when did you know you wanted to be one?

When I was in school, one year, I think at the end of year 9, I decided that I would go see every film that’d been nominated for an Oscar, and I did. I spent a ridiculous amount of money and I saw everything. It was the year American Beauty, The Insider and Magnolia came out and it was such a rich year for American films. I walked out one day having watched three films back to back and I was exhausted. I thought I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m definitely going to work in film. I was determined. So you know, I dug around. I went to producing school and I did lots of stuff involving the web and making short films. And they were terrible short films! Heaven help me if anybody ever finds the Tropfest film I made in 1999. Oh fuck, it’s terrible. But I got to the end of high school and the AFI run a young film critics competition. It’s the only time they’ve run it because they ran out of money immediately thereafter. I entered four times, because I’m half Asian and that’s what we do — have an overly active work ethic. After I graduated from school I got this phone call from my english teacher and she was like “you remember this thing you entered?” And I was like “yeah, I think so” and she said “you won.” I won for my age group. So there I was with this film criticism award from the AFI. I then wondered: can I now say I won an AFI award? Probably not.

I thought I was going to be a graphic designer by day and a filmmaker by night. As you do when you start off as a graphic designer, you look for good websites to plagiarise and I came across a website for a community radio station, FBi. I sent them an email saying hey — I can do graphic design and I can also review movies! I did some awful, I mean truly terrible graphic design for them. I am not a great graphic designer. They turned around and said “soooo let’s have a movie reviewing thing.” I think I did a review of Donnie Darko and they were like “great” and they brought me in and taught me radio and broadcasting from scratch.

They taught me to really think about your audience. Everything you do, you need to think about who you’re talking to and that simplifies any multitude of questions. After a year of doing these little packaged up reviews that played between songs I got a call from this producer at SBS. I went out and had a drink with her and we talked for three hours about everything and nothing. When I left I thought “why the hell did I meet her?” and the next say David and Margaret announced they were leaving SBS to go to the ABC. She called me up and said “you should send in a video application.” I was such an idiot I thought: a video application for what? She said “they’re recasting the show” and I kid you not, my first thought was: that’s a terrible idea! Why would you recast The Movie Show without David and Margaret? It is David and Margaret. And yet I sent in a video application anyway and did a screen test in David’s chair. It was funny because I talk fast at the best of times but back then I was ridiculous! I sat there and read the auto-cue and it was a three minute script but I swear I knocked it down in 30 seconds flat. The director looked at me and I was like: sorry, did I sound a bit fast? And he was like “YEP.”

I like to joke that that show, which had Megan Spencer, Fenella Kernebone and Jaimie Leonarder — I like to joke that when they cast the show they thought fuck me, they’re all white, we need somebody vaguely ethnic looking. Where’s that kid with the audition tape? I’m not sure that’s exactly how it happened but that’s what I like to tell myself. I signed my contact to join the Movie Show when I was 18. They didn’t realise my age. I rocked up on my first day and I casually mentioned it was my birthday. I was asked “oh great how old are you?” and they thought 22, 23. I said “I’m 19″ and the executive producer, I swear to Christ, she went pink, blue, pink, green, a whole bunch of colours. Then she said “no it’s OK, we’ll call it the young Movie Show!” So I worked on that show finding cult films, did the DVD segment. It wasn’t a great show; I think anybody who worked on it would happily say that. But it was a great education for me. After a year of doing that I started to do a segment on Triple J. They asked me if I wanted to come on board as a film reviewer and I said “hell yeah.”

Moving onto a slightly different topic: movie munchies. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you a popcorn man?

Ever since I started being a film critic I don’t really do popcorn that often. Partly because my wife hates it. We used to go to the movies a lot and she used to really hate the smell of popcorn, so I stopped ordering it. But now every once in a while I do for a certain kind of movie. I’ll be honest: for Piranha 3d, I’m eating god damn popcorn! But most films I don’t. I don’t have hard and fast rules about it but I do think the people who bring in an entire freaking’ lunch into a film, I think it’s disrespectful to other people who are there to work. I think that’s important to remember: yes its an awesome job, and it’s a fun job, but you are there as a representative of the audience and there are things you just shouldn’t do, like bring in a garlic laden sandwich with crusty bread that’s going to make a noise every time you bite into it. To me that’s a douchie thing to do at the best of times.

Leave your buttered chicken and roti bread at the restaurant. I wholeheartedly agree with that. What about taking notes in the cinema? What’s your philosophy?

I have a notepad and I write little schizophrenic conversations to myself, as though I am a friend of me talking to me during the film. It’s psychologically disturbing, if you think about it. So I have a little ‘conversation with myself, ask myself things like ‘why the hell is so and so doing that’ and ‘did that plot point check with that plot point?’ and ‘is it just me or is Michael Fassbender’s cock massive?’ All of that stuff.

Basically a highly edited, highly reshaped version of that conversation is what makes it onto the air most times. I’m a big believer that broadcast film criticism should really feel like a mate has just seen a film and wants to talk to you about it. That was the best way of me getting that out, getting that sense of immediacy on the page. What I actually write is illegible, but the process of writing it down and getting those jokes and ideas crystallises it in my head.

The best kind of films to review are the kind that are interesting but flawed. You find yourself identifying what the filmmakers tried to do but didn’t work, and so on. There is meat there in the discussion. Sometimes the hardest films to review are the ones you flat out love.

Sometimes when you love a film the challenge is to try and obey the journalist love and try to fall out of love with your subject and get a little bit of distance but sometimes your love of cinema overpowers that and you come out gushing. Like you said before, reminding people that you actually love cinema is not a bad thing! Onto the subject of tear jerkers, when was the last time – if indeed you ever have – that you cried while watching a film, and what was it?

That’s a really good question. The obvious one for me was Toy Story 3 but I know there’s been another one since then. Trying to remember which one it was…as for the most recent one, well, Green Lantern made me cry because it wouldn’t fucking end.

Oh, in the last year: Super 8. There’s a moment near the end when a kid has to give away his mother’s locket, and it’s the most cheesy, Hollywood moment. But for some reason it broke me down to tears. I don’t understand why, it just did. Perhaps because the film felt like the kind of film I watched as a kid, so it was hooking into a degree of nostalgia. I cry in movies more often than you might think I would. I do it about 2 or 3 times a year. Do you cry in movies?

I generally don’t. I don’t know if it’s the hard shell outside me protecting my soft squidgy inner core but the last time I cried in a movie was during Iris, in 2001, with Judi Dench. Foolishly I saw that film about a week after my grandmother died, who I dearly loved, and it was about an old lady who dies, and it was done in such a convincing, melancholic yet haunting way that it totally – yeah, there was some salt water.

Who are five of your favourite living directors?

Wes Anderson, Hayao Wiyazaki, Danny Boyle, David Fincher and Christopher Nolan.

What are five of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years?

Balibo, Lantana, The Proposition, Animal Kingdom. The last spot is a tie between Mary and Max and Moulin Rouge. Yes, I’m calling that last one an Australian film given it was eligible for an AFI at the time.

How about your first memory of the cinema? What was it?

I don’t know how old I was, but I used to live in Canberra at the time. I know, judge me now! I saw Snow White and – mum loves to recount this story because I’m now a film critic – I really wanted to leave because of the wart on the nose of the Wicked Witch. I found it so disgusting I wanted to leave, which makes me sound really shallow. And you know what, I am! I really hate warts. Get that shit lasered, I say!

Now that you’re casting a eye back over your cinematic life, what about the film experience you recall most fondly? Your best cinematic memory? Obviously it’s not the warts.

No, it’s not the warts. It was three o clock in the morning, I was in high school and I was staying over at a mate’s place. He said ‘oh Marc, you love movies! You really really really need to watch this movie. It’s called Donnie Darko.’ I’d never heard of this film and I sat and watched it at 3 o’ clock in the morning, top to toe, which by the way is the absolute best time to watch that film. It was funny, it was mysterious, dark and seductive – and I had no fucking idea what was going on! It has stuck with me throughout my entire life. Every time I watch that movie I still can’t tell you with 100% what it’s about. Whenever I re-watch it I think it’s about something else. I think is really unique. It’s a film that keeps on giving.

Whereabouts in the cinema do you like to sit?

I like centre, slightly to the front, unless it is 3D in which case I am centre and maybe three of four rows back. If it’s IMAX, take me to the mother fucking back row because I can’t handle anything more than that! I saw the IMAX version of Star Trek, the JJ Abrams reboot, and we sat somewhere near the middle, and it just did my head in. I got nightmares about lens flares for the next week after that. But if it’s a DVD, I’m pretty much leaning into my television.

And that provides an excellent segue for my next question. Most people assume that film critics have a large collection of DVDs. Is that true in your case? How big is your DVD collection?

Nine thousand, eight hundred and forty five. OK, I made up the forty five part. It is something in the vicinity of nine thousand.

Are you serious?

We actually have to move into places that are two bedrooms because, you know, I have to have a DVD room. It started at SBS because I was reviewing DVDS, and it was around 2004, a time when everybody was releasing their back catalogue on DVD. It just meant that by the end of that two years I had at least three thousand DVDs and I didn’t know where to freaking put them. Gradually over the years it’s just kept on growing and growing and now I find myself with this awkward problem. To be honest, now I want to digitize them! If anybody wants to be my intern, well I don’t know what I could give you but…

Well you could probably give them a DVD or two.

That’s right! After it’s done they’re all yours!

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay?

When I saw Kingdom of Heavens, years ago, I brought in two coffees because I’d been warned about the running time. But what I hadn’t prepared for was the inability for my bladder to make it through that film. I don’t walk out of movies. I never do. Even if my bladder is pushing against vital organs because it’s that engorged, I still don’t do it. Which possibly contributed to how much I hated that film!

I feel a 100% obligation to stay. I’m being paid to be there and for all I know something amazing could be coming up in the last minute. You have to stay till the end. Plenty of times I have wanted to leave but when it comes to a film I know I am reviewing I will never walk out. I actually get really shitty when I see certain other people who work for certain other TV networks come in five minutes after a film’s started, leave ten minutes before it’s over then hop up on TV the next morning and talk about it. I find that really frustrating and I think it’s shit, to be honest. Seriously, we have one of the best jobs in the world. You get to watch movies for a living. Sure, it’s not the best paid job, but it’s a great gig and the least you can do is bloody well stay until the end. It’s not that hard. Because of this rule I have missed flights, I’ve missed dinners, and all sorts of things but it’s your job – you stay until the end of the film.

One more question, in two parts. What advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

For filmmakers, always always always always always always think about your audience. Who are you making a film for? How are you going to talk to them? Do you know your audience? The Australian film industry produces amazing craftspeople, wonderful actors, amazing cinematographers and sound designers, production designers. Where we lack is we don’t seem to think about the audience. Often when you watch an Australian film the filmmakers are so caught up in wonderful craft they don’t think: how do I draw somebody into this world? What is the transaction here? When somebody enters a cinema, you have to give them something back. You have to give them an emotion, or a laugh, or thrill them – you have to give them something back. I’m not saying it has to be straight up entertainment but you have to give them something and it can’t just be a great performance or beautiful cinematography. I don’t get a sense that filmmakers are really thinking about the audience. And also, marketing: think about how to go about selling your film. So many films I come across and just think, you don’t know who you made this for other than yourself and the AFI.

In terms of film critics, start a blog. Start a twitter feed. Start a podcast. There has never been a better time to become an up and coming film critic. With the prevalence of social media now, you can motivate your friends to look at something and from there it gets bigger and bigger. If you’re an aspiring film critic, start something. Do something. You can build up a body of work.

Whilst Sandra Hall, who began reviewing films for The Sydney Morning Herald in 1996 and was literary editor at The Australian from 1983 to 1987, hasn’t dabbled in filmmaking, she has certainly nurtured her creative instincts and afforded them an outlet.

Hall is the author of two novels, Beyond the Break and A Thousand Small Wishes, and has just started preliminary research into a third. She has also penned a biography of press tycoon Ezra Norton and two books on the history of Australian television.

She believes her experience as a novelist has deepened her understanding and appreciation of art.

“It’s all storytelling. The business of putting a plot together certainly helps you when it comes to looking at a film’s structure,” she tells Cinetology.

“I think the best criticism comes from people whose work is informed by their knowledge of the world at large. That’s why I like (The New Yorker‘s) Anthony Lane‘s reviews so much. He can write equally well about films, art, books or how a piece of Lego is made.”

Like most critics, Hall is a freelancer, and while the job doesn’t come with the same regularity or stability as a staff writer, there are perks for people who wish to cast their net wide.

“I believe that we should all have a go at whatever interests us if we’re lucky enough to get the chance,” she says. “For me, that’s been one of the great joys of freelancing. You don’t earn much money but you can sometimes find the time to experiment with your own work.”

Hall is the fourth participant in Cinetology’s weekly Meet the Critics series, which has so far profiled the ABC’s Margaret Pomeranz, The Age’s Jake Wilson and The Australian’s Lynden Barber.

Do you read much film criticism? If so, what publications and writers do you recommend?

I do, although not as much as I used to. I grew up on Pauline Kael’s reviews, then I started collecting books of film criticism and discovered James Agee. These days my favourite is Anthony Lane in The New Yorker. But I never read him – or anyone else – until I’ve done my own review. Lane’s just too good anyway. I like reading him best on films I haven’t reviewed. It’s not so depressing.

In your opinion what if anything is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

As a print journalist I find it very sad that newspapers the world over are in trouble and that in the US, so many experienced film critics have vanished from the scene. Some of the best have migrated to the internet, which is great. I just hope that there’ll always be a place for the lengthy, considered piece, whether it’s in print or online.

The internet has irrevocably altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism? 

It’s terrific that so much discussion is being generated. People these days are much more informed about what they’re seeing. They educate themselves with DVDs, director’s cuts, downloads — loads of stuff — and naturally, they want to share their opinions but a lot of it is very much off-the-cuff. I still think there’s place for the professional reviewer who really likes to craft a piece which gives the flavour of a film, puts it in context and backs opinion with argument.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know you wanted to be one?

My parents were great fans and always took me to the cinema because they couldn’t afford babysitters, so I saw everything from a very early age. I’m sure it was a very unwholesome start to life but it got me so firmly hooked on film that I started wanting to write about it when I was a teenager. And luckily, I got the chance. When I became a cadet — on the now defunct afternoon paper, The Sydney Sun — I used to fill in for the regular reviewer. Then years later, when I had my first child, I took it up regularly. It was an easier job to organise than the other journalism I was doing and I loved it. That was on The Bulletin. I switched to the Herald in 1996.

The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?

Fortunately I hate popcorn because one of those tubs has as many kilojoules as four square meals. My preference is to see a film at five or six in the evening with the prospect of dinner and a glass or two of wine afterwards.

Do you take notes in the cinema? If so, how extensive are they?  

I used to take extensive notes for every film. Then a couple of years ago, I hurt my shoulder and couldn’t and I found I could manage without. Now I only take a lot of notes when there’s going to be time gap between seeing the film and writing the review.

Moving onto the subject of eye moistening: when if ever was the last time you cried while watching a film and what was it?

I often cry – even when I know I’m being manipulated. In fact, that’s when I cry the most. The last time was in Spielberg’s War Horse, which is pure schmaltz.

Who are five of your favourite living directors?

Martin Scorsese, although I took a long time to come round to him. For a while I thought he was just out to make me suffer for his case of Catholic guilt. Then he started to show his sense of humour. By Goodfellas, I was a complete convert.

Michael Haneke. He terrifies me. Nothing will get me to see Funny Games but White Ribbon is a masterpiece and the other films I’ve seen of his are extraordinary.

Jason Reitman. I don’t fancy his latest, Young Adult, much but Juno, Up in the Air and Thank You for Smoking are all great. I like his wit.

Michael Mann. He’s had a lot of misses but his best - The Insider, Collateral, Heat, The Last of the Mohicans – more than make up for them.

Ang Lee. Another one who doesn’t always choose the best subjects i.e. The Hulk. But he’s given us some wonderful films. Great courage and a great range.

What are five of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years? 

A tough question. It’s very hard to get it down to five. But here you go: Lantana, Chopper. Suburban Mayhem. Bright Star. My Year Without Sex. My other favourites are The Dish, Happy Feet, Beneath Hill 60 and Mrs Carey’s Concert.

What is your first memory of the cinema?

Burying my head and blocking my ears during some of the Warner Brothers crime movies. My parents were addicted to them.

Can you describe the strangest experience at the cinema you’ve ever had?

Probably the Calcutta Film Festival. The crowds surged in to see a film with the word, “kiss”, in the title. Then ten minutes later, realising how dull it was, they surged out again.

Looking back over your filmic life, what is the cinematic experience you recall most fondly?

Seeing Singin’ in the Rain the first time. It’s still one of my all-time favourites.

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay?

I always stay to the end if I’m reviewing a film no matter how dire it is. I don’t feel confident writing about it otherwise. But at international festivals you have to walk out sometimes because there’s something you’d rather see starting up across the street.

With regards to philosophy re: sitting in the cinema, are you a back row sitter? A front row sitter? Why?

No philosophy. Just need. I’m short and I hate having to peer round somebody’s head so I sit close to the front.

Finally, what advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

My advice to filmmakers would be to first find a good script. My advice to aspiring film critics is to see as many films as you can and read critics whose writing you like.

Growing up as a teenager in a family without a television, Wilson developed a special attraction to going to the movies – especially without an adult.

“The bug bit when I was in high school, or maybe even earlier,” he says. “My best friend at that time – this was the late ’80s – lived just round the corner from the Valhalla cinema in Melbourne, now the Westgarth, which used to run Saturday matinees. They would show things like the Marx Brothers or 1950s sci-fi. Right away this was stuff that interested me, so seeing both old and new films was a big part of my life from then on.”

Wilson dabbled in film criticism in his teens and began reviewing regularly in his early 20’s. He writes for Australian Book Review and was a co-editor of Senses of Cinema. Some of his work is available to read on www.jakewilson.com.au

As a critic for The Age, Wilson’s viewing diet is partly dictated by editorial requirements. His wife of five years has grown used to watching things they probably wouldn’t have otherwise “but draws the line at Adam Sandler comedies.”

Wilson is the second profile in Cinetology’s Meet the Critics series, which looks at the moviegoing habits of the country’s leading film critics and how they approach the craft of criticism.

Do you read much film criticism? If so, what publications and writers do you recommend?

I read a good deal, yes, and much of it online. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but publications I’d recommend include Cinema Scope, Senses of Cinema, Rouge, Mubi, and Bright Lights Film Journal. Some of the critics I get the most from are Jonathan Rosenbaum, Bill Krohn, Adrian Martin, B. Kite, Ignatiy Vishnevetsky and Lesley Chow.

In your opinion what if anything is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

Film criticism is thriving in its natural habitat, but occupies a very marginal place in the mainstream English-language media compared with, say, celebrity gossip, chatter about box office statistics and other forms of thinly disguised advertising.

Here in Australia there are a lot of readers and writers who believe that taking film seriously is for wankers. That it’s just entertainment, you shouldn’t try and get too deep. There are similar problems in a lot of fields (and) the state of TV criticism is much worse.

Those kinds of anti-intellectual attitudes go along with a system where the films with the biggest promotional budgets tend to get the most coverage. It’s not that editors are always manipulated by publicists, but the assumption is that people want to read about what they already know. Criticism corrupts itself when it fails to fight against that. When it ignores film history for example or when it assumes that the films which happen to get a commercial release necessarily represent the best in world cinema.

The internet has irrevocably altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism?

The internet has revitalised film criticism by letting a vast number of new voices into the conversation. Many of them belong to knowledgeable cinephiles who aren’t bound by the old restrictions on style and subject-matter. As a result, professional reviewers no longer have the kudos they used to, which is something I can live with.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know you wanted to be one?

I dabbled in film criticism from my teens onwards, first for student newspapers, then for websites, initially with little payment or none. Truth be told, I set out to become a freelance writer rather than a critic. If I hadn’t had the stupendous luck of getting a regular gig at the Age I could well have gone down a different path.

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay? If so what was the last film you walked out on?

I feel obliged to stay when I’m on duty, and the habit carries over to films I see in my own time. I remember walking out of a documentary about independent record stores at the Melbourne Film Festival a couple of years ago, but there may have been something else since then.

The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?

When I bring someone with me, we might share a bucket of popcorn. When I’m by myself, I usually stick to coffee.

Do you take notes in the cinema? If so, how extensive are they?  

I often start out trying to take notes but once I get absorbed in a film they usually aren’t very extensive. Ideally if I’m reviewing a film at any length I like to see it at least twice – the first time as a pure spectator, the second time trying to scribble down as much detail as I can. But given the realities of weekly deadlines this isn’t always possible.

With regards to philosophy re: sitting in the cinema, are you a back row sitter? A front row sitter? Why?

I like to sit about four rows back, where I can take in the whole screen comfortably while still being close enough to feel surrounded by the image. Some instinct makes me prefer an aisle seat, so if disaster strikes I can get away fast.

Moving onto the subject of eye moistening: when, if ever, was the last time you cried while watching a film and what was it?

I cry quite often, usually at happy endings, in good and bad films alike. Recent examples include Arthur Christmas and Hugo.

There’s a common assumption that critics have a very large home collection of films. In you case, is that true?

Since I started writing for The Age I’ve put together a largish collection of screeners sent to me for preview, mostly relating to film festivals and special seasons at ACMI. I don’t keep them all, but I hang onto the rarer and more interesting titles when I can. In general though when I want to watch something I’m more likely to rent than buy.

Who are five of your favourite living directors?

Abbas Kiarostami, Jerzy Skolimowski, Alain Resnais, Jean-Luc Godard and Jacques Rivette.

What are five of your favourite Australian films of the last ten years?

The Tracker, My Year Without Sex, Nancy Nancy, The Room of Chromatic Mystery and Stargazers. That last one was actually completed in the late ’90s, but didn’t get a public screening until 2005.

What is your first memory of the cinema?

Oddly enough, another film by Rolf de Heer. It’s called Tail of a Tiger and I watched it as part of a free holiday program at the Essendon Civic Centre. I remember laughing when the bullies got covered in flour. Perhaps you had to be there.

Can you describe the strangest experience at the cinema you’ve ever had?

No, but the strangest cinema I’ve ever been to was the Panorama, Jon Hewitt’s ahead-of-its-time videotheque on Brunswick St, Fitzroy, which used to show Sam Fuller triple bills and documentaries on what was called the “modern primitive” movement back when body piercing was considered edgy. Now it’s a community credit co-operative. Unless I dreamt the whole thing.

What about the cinematic experience you recall most fondly?

The Australian premiere of Jacques Rivette’s Out 1 at Brisbane’s Gallery of Modern Art in 2007. I’d dreamt about seeing this film for years, and it truly lives up to its legend. It’s this strange, rambling serial story about theatre and conspiracy in Paris, which runs for nearly thirteen hours. You really have to make a commitment, so it becomes an adventure for the audience as well.

Finally, what advice would you provide to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

The same advice I give myself: work harder, broaden your horizons, try to come up with some new ideas. Also, if you’re not serious about art you’re wasting your time. There are easier ways to make money.

But despite occupying a revered chair in an industry overspilling with hopefuls and have-nots, Pomeranz’s mantle as one of Australia’s preeminent film critics is not one she ever wanted, or even feels comfortable with.

“It’s the unfairness of television,” she says. “You reach a lot of people and we’ve been doing it for so long. I don’t think I’m the best critic in the world and I don’t think I’ve got the best insight into film. So I’m very uncomfortable with that preeminent position.”

When Cinetology suggests to Pomeranz her humility only feeds into her celebrity, making her more likeable, she responds with “oh shit!” and that distinctive laugh squeaks down the phone line.

Pomeranz is the first to participate in Cinetology’s Meet the Critics series, which every week submits a set of questions to a high-profile Australian film critic. Cherry-picking critics from a variety of media outlets and platforms, the series will shine a light on how the country’s most widely-exposed cinephilies approach film going and the craft of criticism — from who they read and respect to what they munch on in the cinema.

Do you read much film criticism? If so, what publications and writers do you recommend?

I subscribe to Sight and Sound and I go into paroxysms of anxiety when my subscription is about to run out because I think it’s one of the best film magazines. For in-depth stuff Senses of Cinema is wonderful as well. David swears by American Film Comment but I actually prefer Sight and Sound, the British take. I love reading others people’s opinions and absorbing their take on a film. I like seeing what I’ve missed out on.

There have been some critics like Evan Williams who have been able to articulate — in a way I haven’t been able to — thoughts about a film that I’ve been intensely grateful for. Adrian Martin has always got an interesting take on films, although I don’t always agree with him. I also used to love Kenneth Turan in the LA Times.

In your opinion what if anything is wrong with the current state of film criticism and/or attitudes towards film critics?

It’s sad that with all the pressure on newspapers at the moment and the subsequent rationalising of expenses, reviewers are becoming scarcer. Reviews from Melbourne are syndicated to Sydney; there are less voices in the press. There have never been many on television but at the same time, on the other side of the spectrum, there is a proliferation of voices on the net.

The internet has irrevocably altered the media landscape. What impact do you think the proliferation of writers on the internet has had on film criticism? 

The trouble with the net is finding stuff you want to read because there is a lot there that’s not very interesting. It’s a matter of searching amongst the dross for engaging material. The volume of information on the internet is unbelievable.

How did you become a film critic and when did you know you wanted to be one?

I didn’t ever know I wanted to be one and I was basically forced into taking on that role in 1986 when The Movie Show first went to air because I could not find anyone that David was prepared to appear with who was a woman. We both really wanted those different voices: male and female. I kept on saying “I’ll just see this year out” (laughs).

I came back to Australia just when the film industry was taking off. I went to NIDA and took screenwriting and I started out as a writer. I went to all the AFI screenings in the ’70s so that was sort of in my blood stream. When I was made David’s producer we would talk about films and exchange different opinions over lunch, just as a shared interest thing. It only became sort of official when I was made to sit in that seat by both the head of programming and David.

Do you ever walk out on films, or always feel an obligation to stay? And if you do, what was the last film you walked out on?

The only one I can think of was when I saw the remake of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I saw it after it’d been released, in a daytime screening. I went in and there were about five blokes in the screening, all sitting separately. I’m not a great fan of torture porn and I just felt so uncomfortable in that screening that I walked out. I never walk out of a film. Never. Unless I’m in, say, Cannes or Venice and I’ve got an interview and have to leave early. But then I have to see the whole film again, which is a bit of a nuisance. For me to voluntarily walk out of a movie is a rarity. It never happens. I think you have an obligation to stay, and if you are David Stratton you have an obligation to stay until the absolute end of the credits!

The general public love to munch away while watching a movie. What are your eating habits in the cinema? Are you addicted to popcorn, sneak in the occasional choc-top, or there strictly to watch the film?

If I am catching up with a film that’s had a release and I go to the cinema during the day, it’s popcorn. David hates the thought. I never do it when he’s around (laughing). But if I haven’t had any lunch I’ll get some popcorn.

Do you take notes in the cinema? If so, how extensive are they?  

My memory is so bad I take notes. I’ve got to write them up fairly soon after or I find my writing completely illegible. I write certain factual stuff and if something strikes me during the film, either wonderful or execrable.

With regards to philosophy re: sitting in the cinema, are you a back-row sitter? Front row? Why?

I hate anybody’s head in front of me. I don’t sit in the front row but I sit in the first 10 to 12 rows.

Is that a staunch rule?

Pretty much. I’m long sighted, so I think when I was younger and just a moviegoer I would sit at the back. But now I want the experience to overwhelm me so much. I do not want to be aware of anyone else between me and the cinema screen.

When, if ever, was the last time you cried while watching a film and what was it?

I recently re-watched Samson & Delilah and that’s a film that breaks me up every time. I find that film so moving. It’s such a beautiful piece of cinema; so disciplined. I think Australian filmmakers find it really hard to tap into the emotional core of their films but I think Warwick Thornton did that superbly with Samson & Delilah. He gives you that catharsis at the end so minimally yet so powerfully.

There’s a common assumption that critics have a very large home collection of films. Is that true for you?

My collection size is nowhere near David’s. David’s got this amazing collection of stuff. He won’t lend me a single one; he’s so mean and anal about it. He’s got a fabulous collection. I haven’t. I’ve got a very random one.

Who are five of your favourite living directors?

Pedro Almodóvar. Paul Thomas Anderson. Ang Lee. Lars Von Trier — just to be controversial! And Michael Winterbottom. I could have chosen (Steven) Soderbergh. That fifth place is a hard one but I chose Winterbottom because, like Ang Lee, he takes on so many different genres and really succeeds. I loved reading your bit about Casey Affleck in The Killer Inside Me. It was a fabulous performance, but a hideous creation.

What are your five favourite Australian films of the last 10 years?

Samson and Delilah, Animal Kingdom, Chopper, Lantana, and for the last spot I’m torn between Burning Man and Snowtown.

What is your first memory of the cinema?

The one that stays in my mind, from I think the late ’50s, was I Want to Live starring Susan Haywood. It was about a possibly innocent woman who was executed for murder. I haven’t seen it since then; my memory is so dim. But it was a very confronting film and most probably not suitable for children. It really helped form my position against capital punishment at a very young age.

Can you describe the strangest experience at the cinema you’ve ever had? For example, I remember you hosted an illegal screening of Ken Park in 2003. 

That was the strangest experience of a non cinema screening. We only saw the first 50 seconds of it, maximum. I had seen the whole film in Venice. It struck me that a major international film festival programmed this title and then it gets banned in Australia. Egged on by various colleagues, a snowball started with this illegal screening and unfortunately it got publicity and the police arrived. Everybody was very sweet about it, and the policeman was very handsome (laughs). I think they assigned a disarming squad to try and control us.

What about the cinematic experience you recall most fondly?

It sounds a bit boring to go over something I’ve mentioned before but I was astounded by Samson & Delilah. I walked out of that film and five minutes later it hit me like a jolt. I was in floods of tears; I was sobbing. That might happen during a film — when you’re emotionally affected by what you see on screen — but for a film to have that impact that much later I found absolutely extraordinary. I love the fact that an Australian film could do that to me. I love our cinema but it’s so vulnerable. I love it when we succeed.

Finally, what advice would you give to a) aspiring filmmakers and b) aspiring film critics?

For filmmakers: if this is your passion go out and do it. The technology is there for you to make a feature film for very little money and all you’ve got to have is the talent to capture it. I think you need to be able to find people with good judgment to mentor you, give you advice, script edit and so forth. But there is nothing like doing it and seeing your mistakes.

I think that goes for film critics, too. I have kids writing to me asking: “How do you become a film critic?” I say: “See lots of films. Write about them.”