Have you ever sat by a roaring fire, reading the latest review of your favorite movie, and wondered to yourself, “How did I miss such an obvious parallel between this and David Lean’s work on Lawrence of Arabia?” I’m sure after reading such startling wisdom, you’ve wished with all your might that you could bestow praise on the great films, or destroy a poor director’s career with your acidic pen. Well, lament no longer my friend, for help has arrived. Heed my words, and soon you’ll be churning out reviews on par with those of Roger Ebert, Kenneth Turan, and even that hack, Pauline Kael. There are six simple rules one must remember to create a shockingly literate and deeply confusing movie review. Read them, remember them, cherish them, and use their power wisely.

Rule number one: endless praise is the amateur’s trademark. Remember, dear curmudgeon, every movie out there is teeming with flaws; you just have to know where to look for them. If the special effects were good, point out that they take the place of the story. If the story is deep and involving, complain that it’s confusing and there aren’t enough special effects. I’m not saying you can’t enjoy the movie (just make sure this doesn’t happen too often), but you need to handle this unexpected development delicately. State the fact with an air of cool disdain, and spend no more than two or three sentences on it. With this ugliness out of the way, proceed to point out everything that could have been better about the film. For an excellent example of a critic who is impossible to please, take a look at anything by Pauline Kael.

Rule number two: Use lots and lots of words. Despite what Leonard Maltin would have you believe, people do not respect a review that states nothing more than, “More of the same, only worse,” accompanied by a one and a half star rating. In fact, if your review can be read in under ten minutes, something’s amiss. Here are a few tips to keep your review nice and long-winded: One, keep that plot summary coming, and don’t worry about spoilers, because no one’s really reading this part of your review anyway. Two, don’t be afraid to say the exact same thing in different ways. Three, whenever possible, fit in at least a dozen references to the works of Akira Kurosawa, Martin Scorsese, and/or Alfred Hitchcock. I don’t care if you’re talking about the latest Adam Sandler flick, Citizen Kane deserves a mention or two. For excellent examples of movie reviews which seem to go nowhere for long stretches of time, take a look at the reviews to be found in Baseline magazine. Just be sure and set aside a few hours so you can get through one or two of them.

Rule number three: Be sure to use a star rating. Always remember, nine out of ten readers couldn’t care less what you have to say, because they’ll gauge your writing abilities entirely on the length of your review. So, instead of reading, they’ll look to your star rating when deciding what movie to see. If you give it four stars (be cautious with that rating, and be sure the film in question cost less to make than your average pizza), your readers, and I use that term in its loosest sense, will see it based on critical raves. If you give the film one star (feel free to give this rating, particularly if the film cost more to make than your average aircraft carrier), your readers will promptly see the film, claiming critics don’t know what they’re talking about. For examples of the star rating at work, take a gander at Roger Ebert’s reviews. Don’t bother reading them, since his opinion will be well established by the number of bright, shining stars.

Rule number four: Make sure no one will have a clue what you’re talking about. To insure people will believe your review is a work of sheer brilliance and worthy of a Pulitzer or two, use large and/or obscure words whenever possible. Sprinkling terms like “cinematography,” “pan and scan,” and anything with a Latin ring to it throughout your review will bring heaps of praise from the unsuspecting masses. Also, remember that in critical circles, saying, “The movie was good,” is equivalent to saying, “I dun liked that moving picture.” Instead of simply stating how you felt about the film, phrase your slander or praise in a way which can be easily misconstrued. Rather than “The movie was bad,” try something like this: “This abysmal film was a tribute to the utter ineptness of modern Hollywood directors.” That way, when your review shows up on ads for the film as, “This. . . film. . . was a tribute to. . . modern Hollywood directors,” you’ll receive free publicity without sacrificing your professional snobbishness. Looking for a critic to emulate in this respect? Check out anything by Chuck Rudolph for examples of priggishness at its finest.

Rule number five: Old is good, new is tripe. “They don’t make ‘em like they used to.” “When I was your age. . .” “Back in the day. . .” Do any of these phrases sound familiar? If they don’t, you’d better get used to using them, and fast. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never heard of The Seventh Seal, Sunset Boulevard, or Duck Soup; as far as you’re concerned, they’re above reproach. Of course, you’re still free to compliment modern movies (provided this is done infrequently), but never use words like “classic” or “greatest” when referring to them. It also helps to know what precisely the term “modern” means. Here’s an easy rule of thumb: if the director and at least half the cast members are dead, it’s a classic and can be praised to no end. If the director ever made a music video, it’s modern, and slander should be hurled as freely as rotten tomatoes at a New York street mime. A prime example of this rule’s importance can be seen by visiting Roger Ebert’s list of the greatest movies in history. Nearly every film on it was made prior to the invention of the automobile.

Rule number six: Insult nothing containing subtitles. Of all the rules, this is possibly the most important. Breaking this cardinal rule will likely result in your critic’s badge being revoked and your reviews suddenly being loved by the majority of America. Of course, the majority of America is composed of people who watch movies for enjoyment and thus wouldn’t know a masterpiece of cinema from a carburetor. Obviously, these are hardly the people you want on your side. To avoid these major setbacks, a few things to remember: One, if it’s French, it’s good. I don’t care if you don’t speak a word of the language and don’t have the foggiest idea what’s occurring on screen, the movie is sheer genius. Two, if it’s American, it’s not only bad, it’s the end of movie making as we know it. When referring to American cinema, such exaggerations are not only all right, they are rewarded. Three, dubbed movies are not the same as subtitled movies. Dubbed movies have been impurified by the foul English language. Subtitled movies have the intelligence to show contempt for English by placing the words at the bottom of the screen in small letters so no one can read them. That may not be the reality of the situation, but sticking to that story will secure your status as an elitist. For a great example of this cardinal rule at work, check out any review by any critic. . . anywhere. . . ever.

There you have it, you’re now ready to inspire fury in large numbers of people with nothing more than a computer, a few free hours, and a bottled up rage over your inability to make it as a screen writer. Simply find a suitably intelligent publication to display your works in, such as The Washington Post, The New York Times, or anything unlikely to be read by your average high school student, and your career should take off in no time.