In the past few weeks, many of us in the film criticism space have been watching with a growing sense of dread as well-respected critics and major publications begin to eliminate key positions.
Vanity Fair recently announced a re-centering of its coverage around the entertainment industry, scaling back “news aggregation, reviews, and trade coverage.” In doing so, the publication let go of its Senior Chief Critic, Richard Lawson, and correspondents David Canfield and Anthony Breznican.
Shortly after, the Chicago Tribune, the very same publication that platformed Gene Siskel and helped popularize film criticism, eliminated its film critic post and left.
It’s not just limited to print media; layoffs have hit agencies like IGN, whose own Amelia Emberwing went viral a few weeks ago for an emotional moment with Vanessa Kirby during The Fantastic Four: First Steps (2025) press junket.
For those of us newer to this space, these are the figures we once saw as quasi-celebrities, publications we used to dream of writing for, as it meant we “made it.” I had naively viewed these publications as the spaces that truly valued criticism, and critics whose careers were models for other outlets to strive for.
To see them struggling in this industry is both terrifying and deeply disheartening. If these established critics aren’t safe, where does that leave the rest of us trying to break through?
Film criticism has long been an easy target for criticism of its own, often from filmmakers, studios, media conglomerates, and audience members. Director Alex Proyas once described critics as “diseased vultures pecking at the bones of a dying carcass.” Even George Lucas shaded the legendary critics Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel in his film Willow (1988).
The criticism of film criticism is not new, but they have become more pervasive and, in many ways, more dangerous in the age of social media.
The rise of fandoms and online discourse has turned film criticism into a battleground that can lead to critics being personally attacked if their reviews do not align with the expectations of a fanbase.
Critics are often wrongly painted as “pretentious snobs” who dislike most films. This couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s precisely because we love movies that we do what we do. We’re driven by a love for the craft, a respect for the history of cinema, and a desire for the experience of sharing stories in a dark theater with an audience to continue for years and years to come.
Roger Ebert once said, “Film criticism is important because films are important… they affect the way people think and feel and behave.” Films have the power to transport us to other worlds, to expand our horizons, and deepen our empathy. They can also be used as tools to manipulate opinions, spread propaganda, and reinforce dangerous ideologies. The responsibility of the critic is therefore monumental, not just to interpret the art but to provide a lens through which audiences can better understand the world around them and themselves.
Criticism isn’t just about liking or disliking something; it’s about exploring why we feel a certain way about it. This introspection allows us to learn more about ourselves, and, hopefully, encourages the audience to reflect on their own feelings and thoughts as well. Film criticism can help facilitate that by putting feelings into words.
Critics have long played an essential role in shaping the cultural conversation. While they’re not the sole reason a film succeeds or fails, they are an integral part of defining and preserving the cultural relevance of cinema. Their ability to contextualize a film in terms of history, culture, and current events is a skill that requires a deep understanding of the medium, something that cannot be easily replicated by influencers or untrained commentators.
Take a film like Parasite (2019), for example. The overwhelming positive reception the film earned from critics upon its debut at the Festival de Cannes helped launch its journey to win Best Picture at the Academy Awards and earn major box office success.
I remember taking my parents to see Parasite in a small theater in Iowa. Despite the language barrier, the themes of family and the fractures of capitalism resonated with us all. If it were not for the buzz and the call to action critics levied against it– encouraging viewers to seek it out– the film may have had less of an impact. Film critics helped bring the universal themes of the film to light, expanding the reach of the film and creating connections across cultural divides.
That’s why the decline of film criticism as a viable career path is so concerning. In an era of misinformation, these layoffs aren’t just attacks on a profession; they’re targeted acts of censorship. If we silence critics, we lose a vital voice in the cultural conversation. This trend affects not only the film industry but also our democracy. By removing diverse voices from the conversation, we narrow the scope of storytelling and risk allowing a monolithic narrative to dominate the conversation.
This is not to say the industry does not need change. Social media allows for quite literally anyone to be a critic, good and bad. This democratization of criticism has created space for new voices to emerge that have historically been marginalized in conversations around film. It’s also made criticism much more accessible, reaching a larger audience of viewers.
It is interesting to see how traditional structures can be challenged in meaningful ways as the industry learns to adapt. Platforms like The New Yorker and IndieWire seem to be aware of this need to grow and not become stagnant, placing their popular critics in front of the camera for short social videos.
However, with these new voices comes a troubling new dynamic: the commodification of engagement.
It’s all too easy for critics to be swayed by the promise of perks through exclusive access, special screenings, or influencer-like trips in exchange for positive reviews. Criticism has always been based on a personal opinion of preference, but informed by history and knowledge of film. This is lacking in the new era of self-proclaimed critics, making their reviews and analysis lack the same substance, and making it even easier to be caught up in the opulence of the industry, limiting one’s ability to accurately critique media.
This, of course, has consequences for the films we see and the narratives we consume. Studios and media conglomerates hold the reins, and the more we focus on likes, shares, and engagement, the less we focus on genuine critical discourse. Studios benefit from a lack of scrutiny, from audiences that consume content without questioning it, or even reflecting on the ideas it’s presenting. If we lose the ability to engage critically with art, we risk losing the ability to engage critically with ourselves and the world around us.
Yet, in the midst of these challenging times, there is hope. The outpouring of support from fellow critics, film lovers, and emerging voices has been inspiring. I’ve connected with so many passionate individuals in this space, people who understand the importance of storytelling and know that film criticism matters. It’s these voices, often from those just beginning their journeys, that remind me why we continue to do this work.
When I joined The Rolling Tape one year ago, I was excited for the chance to discuss film critically with my peers. Not only have I been able to do this, but I’ve met talented, smart individuals who share my passion for film. These individuals are young, diverse voices who, like me, never imagined they’d be able to speak about films in a professional capacity.
It is not only the opportunities The Rolling Tape has given me to grow as a critic that makes it such a special team to be a part of, but it is the people it’s brought into my life. The perspectives I’ve been honored to read. It is teams like this, Offscreen Central, and Next Best Picture, that show there are still so many of us who care and know the value of creating space for criticism. It is these individuals and critics–that I feel privileged to get to witness their talent and call them my colleagues and friends–that give me hope.
Film criticism, like cinema itself, is still in its infancy. We are watching it evolve, and the changes happening today will likely shape the future of the profession. What will film history textbooks say about this era? Will there be a chapter on the decline of professional criticism, or will this moment give rise to a new wave of voices? Will film criticism even survive as a recognized discipline? Will the film history textbooks even get made?
These are daunting questions, but they also drive me to keep pushing forward because it is precisely in these moments of uncertainty that criticism becomes more essential than ever.
The fact that they are trying to silence us proves the value of what we do. And as long as there are stories to be watched, we’ll continue to find a way to critique them.
Courtesy of Kam Ryan
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