On a professional scale, I know I wouldn’t make a very good
film critic. Not because I lack the knowledge of the Kermodes or the know-how
of Tarantinos, but because I almost always find some way to appreciate a movie.
All it really takes is for some semblance of the will to please its audience
and I can come away from most flicks pleased as punch. This year alone I’d have
raved about Battleship’s hilarious self-aware humour amidst a dull blockbuster,
or Lockout’s almost-parody of Bruce Willis films in a fantastically crap,
straight-to-DVD-worthy flick. I’d have given Safe House fairly decent marks for
the appearance of Ryan Reynolds alone.
