Review: "The Critic" is a Chilling Descent in Moral Chaos
by Evelyn Homan
Warnings for spoilers I guess?
The act of going to the movies has become radically altered within the last twenty-four years. The landscape of movie theatre marquees — where they still exist, anyway — are full of major IP franchises. Movies are long, they’re expensive, and they require leaving your house. For many people, going to see a movie in a theater isn’t worth it, especially when you can wait for it to go to streaming.
It’s also a gamble to go see a movie in theatres — you’re spending hard earned money on something you may or may not ultimately enjoy. Any reviews might still be coming out, so there might not be a solid consensus yet on whatever it is you’re seeing. It’s been a long time since I, personally, have heard someone say of a recent movie “You have to see it, and the best way to do that is in a theatre.”
With all this prelude in mind, when I told my fiance I wanted to go see The Critic , it was with a mix of excitement (wow, a movie that sounds interesting/I’ve heard nothing about!) and nervousness (see previous parenthetical). Although released in 2023 in the UK, it was released in the USA this September and our local ODEON here in England seems to have re-released it to coincide with it.
The Critic has not received many good reviews thus far in the year it has existed as a movie. Considered melodramatic, slow, and disjointed by critics, it’s definitely not the kind of movie that you’d expect to do terribly well in theatres these days.
Naturally, I adored it.
I am the least qualified person to review movies — I haven’t seen many of the Very Important ones, and I’d honestly rather sit down with a documentary than a movie most of the time. This may be why The Critic stood out to me as something quite fresh and special.
But, if you’re a movie buff reading this, let me offer a defense for this film all the same.
The main selling point of this film for me was Ian McKellan in the leading role as the titular critic, Jimmy Erskine. He critiques local drama productions for the fictional Daily Chronicle, known for his prose and his fiery tongue towards productions he hates. The Chronicle, called “a right-wing rag” by Erskine’s secretary/lover Tom in the third quarter of the film — a term that felt slightly anachronistic given the 1930s setting of the movie, but nonetheless got a huge laugh out of me — is owned by a wealthy Viscount, and passed down to his son following his death at the start of the film.
The setting of 1934, with the Depression in full swing across the United States and United Kingdom, is a particularly interesting one which is finely crafted on screen; I immediately realized that, much like my fiance and I, who had spent a little over £30 for the two of us to see this film, some of the extras who were populating the crowd may very well have been acting out the same thing we were doing; spending money taking a chance on a show that may or may not be good. In this way, the setting manages to transcend time in a fascinating way. Although Erskine is focused on critiquing the theatre as opposed to films, there’s a classic quality to the art of critique and performance that felt quite poignant.
The social commentary that the film makes a stab at — ageism, homosexuality, and the struggle of people in humanities roles — also made the plot feel interesting and fresh while still remaining grounded in 1930s London. Erskine, who has been with the Chronicle for decades, faces the loss of his job as the new Viscount takes over and wants younger, fresh talent — and talent who fits within the strict confines of propriety the editorial board wants their “family newspaper” to have. Erskine, being gay, and whose sexuality is exposed after soliciting a sexual favor under the cover of darkness, gets arrested alongside Tom at one point for their sexualities. This leads to his expulsion from the paper for good, now that the Viscount has a good reason to remove him, and this propels Erskine towards the plot being set into motion.
This takes quite a while on screen. Even while I was in the theatre, I was beginning to wonder when the “thriller” portion of the movie synopsis would kick in. But after taking more time to reflect on the film, I realize that this is kind of genius. I’ve noticed, in writing circles, people are talking more about letting your world breathe on the page. Hooking the reader with intense in medias res action, ramming everything close together, one event after the other, in order to keep the reader engaged is no longer something that I’m seeing float around in writing advice spaces. It’s something that has been absent in modern pop music — space to let the music breathe, to not be so compressed as to be consumed in the most effective and efficient way possible. The Critic is genius in its slightly long-winded setup, because it allows for an understanding not only of Erskine’s motivations towards evil, but also an understanding of what he understands to be at stake — not the real stakes — and the world that he operates within. It’s doing the most effective writing imaginable — setting the mood, the time, the place, and the characters. Yes, it means that it takes longer to get the ball rolling towards the story itself — but it’s so rich, I couldn’t look away from the screen.
Erskine’s desire for revenge comes in the form of theatre actress Nina Land, whom Erskine has not been shy about disparaging in his reviews for being a terrible actress. While her mother visits her, Land is encouraged to reach out to Erskine and inquire as to why he is so mean towards her. Land dares to do this and confronts Erskine face-to-face, where she reveals that she wants nothing more to be loved by him as a critic, having grown up reading his reviews in the Chronicle and being amazed at the way he describes the actors he adores. Unwittingly, she has become a pawn in Erskine’s game by revealing this vulnerability; Erskine decides to use her to get his job back, having discovered the married Viscount to be in love with her. What he intends to be a blackmail scheme ultimately goes wrong, but it’s upon this hinge that the screw begins to turn, and this historical period piece finally starts to slot into that thriller genre.
What follows is not a fast-paced thriller. It’s not breakneck like Gone Girl, nor is it psychological like Memento. Rather, it’s like sitting in a warm bath, feeling the water get colder, until it’s so cold you’re wondering how you let yourself freeze like this. I felt my own blood go cold as I watched the lengths to which Erskine was willing to go in order to get his job back. No one was safe from his blackmail scheme — I felt my gut turn multiple times, even when I guessed correctly at what was going to happen. Nina Land is a casualty (and, emotionally, so is her illicit lover — who happens to be the Viscount’s son-in-law by the way. It’s madness.) So too is the Viscount. Jimmy himself isn’t even safe from the web he catches everyone in — his lover Tom is the only person to come out almost unscathed, because he chose to reveal the truth of Erskine’s actions to the Viscount’s daughter. It finishes with Erskine in jail, writing to Tom, still adding a cheeky “I protected you” that feels more than eerie.
It’s not a perfect movie by any means. Erskine’s actions are objectionable, but so too is the homophobic society that surrounds him. It’s appalling how the Viscount’s mentally disabled wife is treated — but the world the film is set in would naturally have written her off as a madwoman. Structurally, it can feel a little peculiar as to how Jimmy even came to this devious push to keep his job. He is, after all, old.
This is where the genius of the film continues to sparkle.
Although Erskine is obviously horrible for indirectly causing the suicide of the Viscount and intentionally drowning Nina Land, the decision to blackmail the Viscount can easily be read at first as a man backed into the corner. The Depression is raging, despite Erskine’s seemingly cushy job as a theatre reviewer and his sumptuous house that is shown in bits and pieces throughout the film. To lose his job is not just losing his perceived sense of dignity — it could very well have left him house-poor. This is the subtext of the film that really elevated the plot for me.
Looking at the plot within the setting that is so craftily set up in the first quarter of the movie is the push for why Erskine ultimately goes so quietly berserk. He’s a gay, elderly man clinging on to the only job he’s ever known as a new owner takes over and tries to revamp a newspaper that is already dying anyway. Although the actions he does to try to regain his job are objectionable — cold-blooded murder and driving someone to suicide are both atrocious things to do, I don’t think I need to make that clear — it’s hard not to have even the smallest inkling of sympathy for Erskine. McKellan’s genius playing of the character only adds to this; for as wicked as he can be, he’s still an old man struggling against society around him.
Tom Turner and Nina Land play into this as well; Turner is a Black, gay man living in a country whose history and present (in the movie, and to this day) are dominated by their colonial atrocities. Land is a poor actress dealing with mental illness and alcoholism in the middle of a massive economic slump. When Turner and Erskine make Land’s death look like a suicide, Nina’s mother confides unknowingly in Nina’s lover (she thinks he’s just a friend) that Nina had made an attempt on her life as a teenager. The trifecta of these characters involved in this blackmail scheme — Turner, Erskine, and Land — existing at different intersectionalities of identity and privilege are what makes this movie so compelling. I would even reach to compare it somewhat thematically to Knives Out, as the impoverished and marginalized are attacked and find themselves trying to keep themselves afloat — even if it’s through the mode of the most vile human actions.
So, is The Critic the best movie ever made on these subjects? Definitely not. But considering how cleverly all of this commentary is woven into the setting, and how many gentle twists and turns are woven together to make the mess of this situation even messier, I’d argue it’s one of the most thought-provoking movies you’ll ever watch if you’re willing to read between the lines.