Review: The Critic (2023)

For those who only know master thespian Ian McKellen as Gandalf and Magneto, you have missed some of the finest acting this side of The Old Vic. Take, for example, his portrayal James Whale, the tortured director of Frankenstein in Gods and Monsters. Or his heartbreaking portrayal of an aged Sherlock Holmes battling dementia in Mr. Holmes. Now we have another impressive role to add to the long list of Mr. McKellen's accomplishments: that of the cruel and manipulative title character in The Critic. 

It's London, 1927. McKellen plays Jimmy Erskine, a theatre critic for one of the biggest newspapers in circulation. For decades, he's been writing with a poison pen, living a decadent lifestyle and destroying the lives of those poor performers who fail to live up to his jaded expectations. But now the paper he writes for is under new management and with the change in leadership comes a change in expectation. Tone it down. Be kinder. Rein it in, he's told by Mark Strong, the new boss. 

Enter Nina Land, played with aching vulnerability by Gemma Arterton. She's an actress with raw talent, but she's pushing too hard, getting in her own way. Her stage performances are ostentatious and grating. When she confronts Jimmy Erskine after a particularly devastating review and threatens to blackmail him (she has dirt on him that could ruin his entire career), he agrees to take her under his wing and make her a star--but there is a great cost. What follows is a tale of manipulation and destruction. This is ultimately a thriller, and Jimmy Erskine knows no boundaries--ethical or otherwise.

I went into The Critic completely blind. I hadn't even seen a trailer, so I had no idea what to expect other than the presence of the actors on the poster. I'd argue that this is the best way to see any movie because you fully give yourself to the film, allowing its creators and the cast to serve as your guides. It's an act of trust that I find to be well-placed more often than not. In this case, our able guides are director Anand Tucker (Shopgirl) and writers Patrick Marber (Closer, Notes on a Scandal, Allan Partridge) and Anthony Quinn (Jackboyz). If the synopsis above sounds dry, fear not; it leapt off the screen for me. The score and the cinematography heighten an already compelling story. The Critic is at times sophisticated, but it's not stuffy and it's certainly not dull, though admittedly I've seen some say otherwise. It's a literate film without flash or bombast, and is better for it. 

In recent days, I've found myself lamenting the lack of movies that feature grown ups talking. I enjoy spectacle cinema as much as anyone, but I've grown anemic from an unbalanced diet of popcorn and not enough vegetables--metaphorically speaking. Mercifully, The Critic is wall-to-wall grown ups talking, creating problems that are not easily escaped. They fashion nooses from their own selfish desires, then proceed to hang themselves rather than admit their shortcomings and mistakes. The most frightening aspect is that we--each of us--can see more than a little of ourselves in each of these people. In another time and place, this would be film noir, shot in stark black and white, but this is London at the height of pre-war opulence, fully color with gold and mahogany and leather and velvet. 

The Critic is worth seeing just for Ian McKellen's performance, but Gemma Arterton and Mark Strong are almost as good. Seeing Arterton's character evolve from a shrill amateur to a seasoned professional over the course of the film is a rewarding experience, and I hope to see more mature roles from her in the future. The Critic has flown under the radar, at least in America, but expect to hear deserved award buzz soon. The character of Jimmy Erskine is one of the great rogues in recent cinema, brought to frightening life by one of our greatest living actors.