Tomb

Let’s get something straight — I hate the word “overrated.” I find it simplistic, insulting, arrogant and simply not useful. If “overrated” vanished from common usage tomorrow, I’d be delighted.

The thing is, this is the time of year that all of those end-of-year lists crop up, and I love reading them. Just love it. Hordes of talented (and not-so-talented) film critics take late December and early January as an opportunity to heap fresh praise on marvellous films that I might have missed, or not thought about, in months. If I spot a few of my own favourites on a list, I feel a pleasant flash of shared enthusiasm.

There are always loads of “best-of-the-year” films that I haven’t seen, and reading succinct summaries of their worthiness inspires me to seek them out. I also get a tasty jolt of schadenfreude from those “worst” lists, too. And yes, I compulsively seek out and read lists of “overrated” and “underrated” films with genuine eagerness and curiosity. And they always make me God damn furious!

Now we’ve all felt a bit disconnected from popular opinion from time to time, and there’s nothing wrong with expressing that. Frankly, I find it fascinating when critics break away from the herd and state upfront what bothers them about films that have been receiving otherwise universal praise. Heck, I myself have written quite negative reviews of critically acclaimed films like Let the Right One In (2008) and Slumdog Millionaire (2008). But there is a big difference between explaining your own opinion and announcing that the rest of the world is wrong. When you use the term “overrated” you’re essentially saying that everybody else is stupid for liking something. That takes some serious hubris, especially when dealing with something as subjective as appreciating a movie.

Talking someone into disliking a film is a completely pointless exercise. It benefits no one. Suppose for a moment that you, dear reader, enjoyed a film that I hated. Which of us is smarter? You, of course, because you got your money’s worth, and I didn’t. Pleasure is fleeting enough in this world — why destroy someone else’s?

Everybody reacts to art in different ways. This is obvious the minute you start paying attention to other people’s opinions on a film. There is no universal rating that is objectively correct. That isn’t to say that we should all keep our opinions to ourselves — far from it, film discussion and criticism is fascinating and worthwhile. But the word “overrated” is not part of a carefully thought out position. It is an intrinsically lazy expression, which seeks to dismiss any argument rather than invite debate.

Because it’s such a lazy word, “overrated” is becoming increasingly meaningless. It could be applied to poorly reviewed yet financially successful films (such as Avatar) or to critically acclaimed box office duds. When a film like Splice (2010) starts turning up on both “overrated” and “underrated” film lists at the same time, it’s a clear sign that we’re dealing with useless terminology.

Sometimes it isn’t just films, but filmmakers who get saddled with the “overrated” label. What good does this do? Do you think Woody Allen will be inspired to a new level of innovation (or perhaps to clinical depression) over the discovery that some blogger thinks that he’s overrated? Not likely.

Curiously enough, I have no real objection to the term “underrated.” In fact, I like it. That’s because it’s usually used to highlight a good film that the author feels deserves more recognition. Plus, casually recommending a movie is more worthwhile than casually dismissing it.

In any case, as hateful and useless as it is, it’s quite clear that the term “overrated” isn’t going away any time soon. I’m partly to blame, because I can’t resist reading those damned lists. Perhaps I enjoy being angry. So go ahead, and check out the end-of-year lists, keeping a careful watch for that nasty old O-word, and when you see it, read carefully to see if the author is making a real and considered argument or just flipping off an audience that found value where he or she could not.