Anthony Lane

Anthony Lane was the first New Yorker writer I loved. I have read The New Yorker since I was little- my parents have subscribed to it for God knows how long and my father would either read articles to me for "bedtime" stories, or would dog-ear a page of it, hand it to me and tell me to read it. I would always oblige, but would greatly become annoyed reading them- I was a kid, probably 10 or so, and I was most definitely not sophisticated enough to understand pieces from The New Yorker. I liked the cartoons the best as a kid; they were complex too, but the pictures were always nice to look at and I liked the feel they had to them.

It was in 2005 when I started liking The New Yorker and reading it thoroughly, and I remember the year because it was the issue where Anthony Lane, (one of two film critics for The New Yorker- the other being David Denby) reviewed the final installment in the Star Wars franchise, Revenge of the Sith. Prior to this movie, I had never really hated a movie. Despite being the daughter of a critic, I wasn't one, and I would often get frustrated with my father 'ruining' movies for me by explaining everything wrong with them. But I really hated Revenge of the Sith, and when I saw there was a review of it in an old New Yorker, I picked it up, began reading, and began my obsession with Anthony Lane.

To this day, I am highly impressed with some people's talent as a writer. The phrasing and word choice all seems to fit and people who are able to express themselves well have always been my idols, Anthony Lane being the first. Like with any criticism, it's more fun to read a scathing review of something than something laudatory, and Anthony Lane is unabashedly harsh on the film (justifiably so, in my opinion), saying:

The general opinion of “Revenge of the Sith” seems to be that it marks a distinct improvement on the last two episodes, “The Phantom Menace” and “Attack of the Clones.” True, but only in the same way that dying from natural causes is preferable to crucifixion. So much here is guaranteed to cause either offense or pain, starting with the nineteen-twenties leather football helmet that Natalie Portman suddenly dons for no reason, and rising to the continual horror of Ewan McGregor’s accent. “Another happy landing”—or, to be precise, “anothah heppy lending”—he remarks, as Anakin parks the front half of a burning starcruiser on a convenient airstrip. The young Obi-Wan Kenobi is not, I hasten to add, the most nauseating figure onscreen; nor is R2-D2 or even C-3PO, although I still fail to understand why I should have been expected to waste twenty-five years of my life following the progress of a beeping trash can and a gay, gold-plated Jeeves. 

 I believe that was the paragraph that made me realize how awesome Anthony Lane is, and from that point forward, I always read the film reviews in The New Yorker. About a year later, I became hooked on the rest of the magazine itself, and I still read it cover-to-cover each week. 


Anthony Lane published a book of his reviews titled Nobody's Perfect, (the title being a nod to Some Like it Hot) and I bought it for my father for Christmas two years ago. It's oddly enough become a family book, for my mom found it one day and began reading it as well, and now it rotates between being at my father's house to my mother's. I would highly recommend the book to anyone who enjoys reading extremely well written essays. Probably my favorite one in there is when he goes through the bestseller lists of the 90s and tees off against The Bridges of Madison County, among others. Or just go to the newyorker.com website and look through any of his most recent reviews. (The Clash of the Titans review was particularly hysterical.) And I shouldn't be completely ignoring the other film critic for The New Yorker, David Denby. He's just as good, although I still hold Anthony Lane in higher regard just for the fact that Denby wrote a positive review about Avatar. In this week's New Yorker, Denby has a particularly good review of the film The Social Network and a profile of David Fincher. (I saw The Social Network last night and was blown away. It's rare for me to be thinking about a movie so much the day after I've seen it, and it's all I've been thinking about today.)


A lot of his reviews cannot be accessed online unless you have a subscription to the magazine, but the New Yorker website is another alternative to reading Anthony Lane's stuff if not by buying his book. Here's some of his best, in my opinion, that can be found and read online for free:

Revenge of the Sith:

http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2005/05/23/050523crci_cinema

Clash of the Titans and Everyone Else:

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/2010/04/12/100412crci_cinema_lane

Mamma Mia! and Journey to the Center of the Earth:

http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/cinema/2008/07/28/080728crci_cinema_lane