On Objectivity

Around the age of 11, I developed an obsession with the Back to the Future trilogy. It was the latest in a long line of all-consuming obsessions, being a fairly nerdy shrinking violet of a child; I had already been through my Tudors phase, which made everyone in my family wish for their own swift beheading, and my collection of Beano comics were looking a little too well-thumbed. I needed a new fixation, something that will really allow me to get my geek on. The adventures of Marty McFly had plenty to go on; a mixture of total nonsense with cool gadgetry and a hero I could develop a childhood crush on. A bit like the Tudors really (Edward VI was age-appropriate and had this rather attractive portrait).

I loved all three films, but I liked the second one the best, mainly because I didn’t really understand it. The bit where Marty goes back to 1985 and finds it to be a dystopian hellhole run by sadistic Griff was shocking and scary to a green and cossetted slightly posh kid. I would badger my parents; ‘But why is 1985 like that now? It was fine before’. ‘Because Marty did a stupid thing in buying the Almanac in 2015 and therefore changed history’.

It blew my tiny mind. It was one of the first films I saw that really made me think about the relationship between cause and effect, that the decisions I made had consequences for others. One little decision like that and the whole town was done for and Lorraine was forced to get massive breast implants and dress like a prostitute. When Griff pushes her onto the ground in a fit of rage and she lies there, powerless and whimpering in her stupid dolly bird outfit and fluffy heels, I swear that this 11-year-old felt the first stirrings of anger at the injustice, the inequality of it all. Greed = bad. Yes, I know this is Hollywood, and Hollywood uses every trick in the book to manipulate your emotional reaction. But nevertheless, I was a little bit nicer to my mum for about a week afterward, and casinos still make me feel uneasy.

Now, as I approach my 30^th birthday in the same year the trilogy celebrates its own 30 years of existence, they remain my favourite films of all time, and I am still waiting for the film that will equal that emotional punch. Maybe with the cynicism of adulthood, that ship has sailed. My favourite is still that second one, the one which most film critics agree is the weakest in the series. Too convoluted, too high-concept, too much unconvincing Michael J. Fox in drag playing female members of his family. The last time I saw the film, maybe four years ago, I was not unaware of its feeble parts, but it did not dent my bliss for one second. In fact, the occasional crappy bits of acting and dated make-up and effects enhanced my enjoyment. I am not proud of my inability to ignore my cravings for childhood nostalgia, the subjective indulgence of it. It’s like giving in and scoffing that Findus Crispy Pancake.

Here we go, though. No film review can ever be objective. It is impossible. Because reviews are generated by human beings. We all carry around our own crap which affects our reactions to things, to every…thing. Perhaps it is fruitless to even try to write an impartial review. I know a bit about film and I can describe cinematography and mise-en-scene until I'm blue in the face, and make a plethora of (vaguely) witty and valid observations. In the end it all boils down to how a film has made you feel. I think in all honesty that is all anyone cares about, and why people keep buying cinema tickets. This blog is about how I feel about films that I have seen, and hopefully a few people might read it and have an opinion about my opinion.

It feels nice to write ‘I think’ and ‘I feel’ in a film review blog.