Step 1: Be kind of dim. Not that bright. A dullard. You like movies, in theory, but you’re hardly an authority on the subject, though you probably fancy yourself one. You probably say things like “TV is so much better these days.”
Step 2: Be very, very eager to publicly register any opinion that floats through your head. Be less interested in the work than in positioning yourself on one side of a “conversation” about the work.
Step 3: Watch a movie by a director with an easily perceivable, instantly recognizable style that remains more or less consistent from film to film. Ex.: Wes Anderson.
Step 4: Remain unaware that a consistent personal style is, in fact, a mark of a genuine artist.
Step 5: Perceive the style. We’ve established that the style is quite easy to perceive, even for you.
Step 6: Feel emboldened by your perception of the style. This doesn’t happen to you that often, so you are pleased with yourself.
Step 7: Here’s where the previous steps kind of come together. The emboldening of step 6 and the fence-positioning of step 2 are a particularly lethal combination. The result: You make inane remarks about how Wes Anderon’s style is predictable, how it remains unchanged—as far as your limited critical faculties can tell—from his previous films, how his work is the province of “white people,” how it fails to represent everyday reality, how it is “quirky,” and how these observations are somehow supposed to be inherently damning and indicative of the sharpness of your excitedly brandished opinion-daggers.
Step 8: Fuck off.