Introduction

Here is where I plan on posting reviews of every Criterion Collection film I can somehow acquire. In large part, I will do so using my new The Criterion Channel subscription. This handy little app, which I loaded onto Apple TV, streams a sizable portion of the Criterion movies, along with commentaries, trailers, and original programming. I may also have to fork over some cash from time to time to obtain on DVD a title that has yet to make its way to the channel. I likewise already own a handful of Criterion offerings.

For the uninitiated, the Criterion Collection is an American home video distribution company, owned by Janus Films, that was founded in 1984 to license “classic and contemporary” movies from all over the world. What constitutes a classic is pretty much determined by Criterion itself, but from what I’ve gathered, the company doesn’t just promote great movies, but also those of uneven quality that have nevertheless had an impact on the history and development of cinema. Part of the appeal of the Criterion treatment is that the chosen films sport beautifully redesigned cover art, offer extensive commentaries from directors, actors, screenwriters, and critics, are presented in a letterbox format that preserves the original aspect ratios, and—when needed—features full restorations of decaying film stock. In this sense, a Criterion movie ostensibly affords the best possible film-watching experience, short of supplying a home theater, and represents one in a carefully curated catalogue of truly important works of cinematic art.

I’m skeptical on two counts. First, I’ve never been impressed—intimidated, influenced, awed—by canons of anything, least of all that of moviedom. Too much that is billed as important or great, whether in film, literature, or art, and particularly from the perspective of our contemporary milieu, might be more accurately labeled as political, counter-cultural, transgressive, or even just plain old avant-garde. Whether these works are enjoyable to consume, uncommonly insightful, or impressively rendered is quite often beside the point. Thus, I’m going into this enterprise with fresh, wide-open eyes and a certain ambivalence with regard to reputation. 

Second, given the above and my familiarity with many, though by no means a majority, of the movies on which Criterion has lavished its cinephilic attention, I am not at all certain that every film in the collection deserves such fawning affection. One need look no further than the inclusion of a movie like Armageddon, the bloated and garish Hollywood blockbuster, directed by Michael Bay, whose most notable Criterion extras are a gag real and the Aerosmith music video for the song “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” Why time and effort went into apotheosizing something so base, indulgent, and formulaic is simply beyond me. I can only imagine that there are similar movies in the collection, however many will try to hide behind their foreign exoticism, their “difficult” subject matter, or their raw and edgy crudeness. When taken with my abiding bias against canonicity, such cynicism on my part should serve as fair warning that it is with no small amount of iconoclasm that I embark on this venture. I may even offer suggestions from time to time of films that ought to replace those that I find cinematically deficient.

There are over 1,000 movies in the Criterion Collection, and I plan on tackling them in alphabetic order as much as possible, depending on availability. It’s a monstrous task, I know, and the odds of complete success are dubious at best. Even so, I find myself giddy at the prospect of systematically addressing the gaps in my film knowledge, regardless of how many movies I actually end up reviewing. This website will thus basically serve as a personal cinematic journal, and I harbor no delusions that it will find any sort of regular readership. I am absolutely content to take this journey alone. Should you decide to join me, however, I hope that you find the content edifying and worth your time.