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[Trinidad Baltzell]

This year I decided to embark on the endeavour of watching my first ever Hallmark movie. I will admit I am one of those who have a hate relationship with Hallmark movies so I went into this endeavor with a negative spirit.

Hallmark movies will continue to be made fun of, but in the grand scheme of it all. Hallmark movies are a big hit. Every year during the holidays, people from all over look forward to watching all the new Hallmark movies.

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So back to the original question. Why does it seem like critics hate the movies you love? Why does it seem like critics have it out for so many blockbusters? Perhaps unfairly. To answer these questions, we first need to dig into the real differences between blockbuster Hollywood movies and indie-styled arthouse films.

But as you can imagine, there are somewhat hidden differences between these two, grand film archetypes. These below-the-surface qualities can help explain why there can be such a variance of reaction when critics and audiences discuss their thoughts on a given film. My goal, here, for that reason, is to help create a sense of understanding for people who maybe make assumptions about film critics as, well, snobs.

Similarly, a blockbuster enthusiast might value the big-budget sci-fi spectacle more than the arthouse film about abject poverty. Not because they have low standards, but because they see the escapist, feel-good film as a balm for an already anxious, weary society. People know the world is terrible. Movies, even if they are technically coy about that fact, can be tremendous tools in healing our wounds and getting us through the day with a healthy dose of comfort by way of simulated images.

But the film also contains some hefty, bittersweet truths for some of the other characters, most notably the older brother who watches the main character go off to win a better life, but ultimately leaving him behind. Movies like this recognize that the world is complex and full of disappointment. But it does have victories, big and small. Is there anything more honest than that?

If you can be an entertainer, first and foremost, more people are likely to engage with your creative output, even if they have no direct connection to the cultural bubble that informs a lot of your opinions and tastes. This is also how a lot of people actually get plugged into culture bubbles in the first place. Through cultural critics who entertain them and introduce them to that world or online community.

I have no idea why Rob Reiner, or anyone else, wanted to make this story into a movie, and close examination of the film itself is no help. "North" is one of the most unpleasant, contrived, artificial, cloying experiences I've had at the movies. To call it manipulative would be inaccurate; it has an ambition to manipulate, but fails.

The film stars Elijah Wood, who is a wonderful young actor (and if you don't believe me, watch his version of "The Adventures of Huck Finn"). Here he is stuck in a story that no actor, however wonderful, however young, should be punished with. He plays a kid with inattentive parents, who decides to go into court, free himself of them, and go on a worldwide search for nicer parents.

This idea is deeply flawed. Children do not lightly separate from their parents - and certainly not on the evidence provided here, where the great parental sin is not paying attention to their kid at the dinner table. The parents (Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Jason Alexander) have provided little North with what looks like a million-dollar house in a Frank Capra neighborhood, all on dad's salary as a pants inspector. And, yes, I know that is supposed to be a fantasy, but the pants-inspecting jokes are only the first of several truly awful episodes in this film.

North goes into court, where the judge is Alan Arkin, proving without the slightest shadow of a doubt that he should never, ever appear again in public with any material even vaguely inspired by Groucho Marx. North's case hits the headlines, and since he is such an all-star overachiever, offers pour in from would-be parents all over the world, leading to an odyssey that takes him to Texas, Hawaii, Alaska, and elsewhere.

What is the point of the scenes with the auditioning parents? (The victimized actors range from Dan Aykroyd as a Texan to Kathy Bates as an Eskimo). They are all seen as broad, desperate comic caricatures. They are not funny. They are not touching. There is no truth in them. They don't even work as parodies. There is an idiocy here that seems almost intentional, as if the filmmakers plotted to leave anything of interest or entertainment value out of these episodes.

I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.

I hold it as an item of faith that Rob Reiner is a gifted filmmaker; among his credits are "This Is Spinal Tap," "The Sure Thing," "The Princess Bride," "Stand By Me," "When Harry Met Sally...," and "Misery." I list those titles as an incantation against this one.

I should love musicals. It takes two of my favourite things, music and film, and puts them together. But I'm not a glutton - I don't want ice cream lobbed on my medium rare steak. Some things are best left as far from each other as possible.

I hate musicals and it's a hate that goes beyond the regular, ho-hum, straight back and sides kind of hate reserved for Adam Sandler comedies and sprouts. I hate musicals with a passion, so much so that I once almost - almost! - joined in a debate on an internet forum about it, which is probably the most useless thing anyone can do. Of course there are good musicals but these are usually the ones with their tongues firmly in cheek, sending up the silliness of it all - Grease, Hairspray, Cry Baby, South Park: Bigger, Longer And Uncut - or could by just a marvel of filmmaking, like Singin' In The Rain (Debbie Reynolds annoys me, however). I've also paid money to see the off Broadway production of the Muppet-esque Avenue Q (it was my first time in New York - you got to go see a play, right?). The jukebox musical, bar Greek-based one that was set to the music of Abba (I can't bring myself to name that travesty) can be occasionally entertaining if only for clunky way they've incorporated the lyrics of Foreigner into the dialogue.

But it's when musicals ask the audience to do more than smile that the problems begin. The musical wants to have its cake and eat it - it wants the audience to be emotionally invested in the story, to be exhilarated by the fun peaks and also to take to heart the dramatic lows. It's the latter where it all falls apart. It's impossible to be moved by a musical's more emotional moments. How am I supposed to get involved with the Von Trapp's flight from the Nazis if they're prone to sing at the drop of a hat? If they're not alarmed then why am I supposed to be? Being emotionally invested in a musical is akin to being annoyed that your favourite professional wrestler lost an important match.

The musical is a contradiction. It wants you to enjoy the songs but for it to work, dramatically speaking, it asks you at the same time to ignore the song's existence. It has to. You can't pretend to get locked into a story as it reaches its climax if they're just going to highlight it's all nonsense at a crucial moment by bloody singing. So this ignore/acknowledge battle goes on throughout, pulling you in both directions at once. Then there are the counterpoint duets - not only am I being asked to enjoy the song and ignore it at the same time, I'm also asked to concentrate on two different lyrics sung simultaneously. I'm tired thinking about it.

And when they do start singing, I'm bored. I'm stuck there waiting for these cringey three minutes to end. Cringey? Yes, I somehow get embarrassed for those on screen (out of curiosity, do musical fans get bored during the downtime between songs?) The songs themselves are an issue too. Advancing the plot is a rare thing - they usually tell us something we already know (Anne Hathaway is really upset in Les Mis. No, she's reaaaaaally upset) or are tough to follow (Christina Aguilera's shouty vowel style in Burlesque - what is that girl on about?). Must of the time I just tune out and wait for the story to kick off again.

The film is very lighthearted, you can definitely find yourself in a much better mood after watching the movie. The movie seems to be simple, having a happy ending like many other romantic movies, but if you observe and read into the movie a little more you realize the movie and poem might have a deeper message within. One interpretation can be that the story is about finding our identity, a crucial part of highschool and growing up. For example, Kat, it seems she used to be a carefree, relaxed person, even popular, but she lost herself and became mean and deterring. With a little bit of work, Patrick was able to bring out her true self, a carefree and happy person because of love.

So, in an effort to prove my original opinion wrong, because I feel like I should love this movie, I gave Superbad a second chance. And while I liked it more on this rewatch, there are still elements to this film I hate. However, there are some delightful silver linings too.

On top of his hilarious physical comedy moments, Evan is also a sweetheart and super respectful. Not only is his scene with Becca really funny, it also shows that Cera's character really cares about this girl, and he just wants to do right by her.

These two guys are so dumb, and their efforts to take McLovin under their wing was a true highlight of the movie. Honestly, I wish Superbad was just about the shenanigans and hijinks of Slater, Michaels and McLovin.

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