For some reason, people think film critics are obsessed with the condition of savoury fruit.
Whenever someone describes me as a ‘Film Critic’ I cringe so hard I begin to anally ingest my own legs (I used to be six foot two, but now I am three foot four). There are only two film critics in the world. One of them has awful taste and the other is named after a toilet. And neither of them care about tomatoes.
Recently, much has been made of the fruit scoring site Rotten Tomatoes, an online tool that ranks tomatoes in order of their freshness. People, and by ‘people’ I mean the dreadful general public, have chosen to believe that the aforementioned critics – and the less prestigious film journalist pond scum, such as myself – review films with this website in mind. I can categorically state that I never think of the seeded savoury fruit when contemplating narrative and cinematography, and to assume that anyone else does either is ridiculous.
Why a connection is being made between the freshness of tomatoes and the art of film criticism is beyond me, but what I do know is that when one tomato in particular is ‘certified fresh’, it prompts legions of biased film geeks to masturbate over one another.
Conversely, when a tomato is deemed ‘rotten’, the general public take it out on the critics who have had nothing to do with the preservation of the fruit. Surely it’s the supermarkets they should be complaining to?
If they are insinuating that film critics (and film journalists) alter their opinions on movies depending on the current state of fleshy produce, they are severely misinformed. They base it on eggs instead.