So we spend our adult lives molding our taste, comparing it to this critic’s body of writing and that, weighing agreements against disagreements until we’ve found a handful of simpatico minds that can be safely relied on.
Life is full of enough uncertainty already, who has it in them to accidentally watch a bad movie?
As we all know, the problem with criticism is that it’s all too arbitrary.
Without a consistent, strictly codified system of defining and assigning value to art, how can I be sure that the reviewer describing The Chronicles of Riddick as a white-knuckle thrill ride can be trusted?