You can, and should, critique the things you like. It doesn’t mean you like them any less.
The Shawshank Redemption (1994) is one of my favorite movies. It stars Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman, and it was the latter’s first time narrating a movie with that famous voice of his. It’s included in many lists of the top movies of all time, including IMdB, Entertainment Weekly, and the American Film Institute. It features incredible cinematography by Roger Deakins, beautiful music by Thomas Newman (his first score to be nominated for an Academy Award), and also Frank Darabont’s superb direction and script, based off of Stephen King’s original novella, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption.
It also does not have a single named female character with a speaking role.
Two women speak in this film, appearing separately on camera for less than a minute each, and in total speaking less than 40 words. Even Andy Dufresne’s wife, for whose alleged murder he was wrongfully imprisoned, is not named under the cast. She is simply listed as “Andy Dufresne’s Wife” in the credits, and other than some sexy moans before she’s shot, she does not make a sound.
Another one of my favorite movies is Ratatouille (2007). This animated film stars Patton Oswalt as a Parisian rat who loves to cook. It has a unique premise and great comedic timing, as well as a main character who is literally named Linguini. One of the supporting characters, Colette, is a badass rôtisseur and she makes a powerful comment about how she is the only female chef in the kitchen due to an antiquated, male dominated hierarchy.
Ratatouille, however, does not pass the Bechdel Test. This test is a very, very baseline way of assessing female representation in film. It only assesses whether there are two named female characters in a movie and whether they happen to talk to each other about something that is not a man. This test does not even measure how “feminist” a movie is, it just sees if women talk to each other (Shawshankalso fails this test, although considering that it takes place in a men’s prison throughout the 1930s and ‘50s, this is not surprising).
I grew up loving the Harry Potter series. It is part of why wanted to become a writer myself. I had a brief, intense crush on Daniel Radcliffe because of it, I was bullied in fourth grade for reading the books under my desk during class, and I even had a “Harry Potter sock” that I drew on for Lord knows what reason. I think the franchise became so popular in part because of Rowling’s masterful character construction and world building, with believable, flawed characters and a magical world of which we all wanted to be a part.
However, Harry Potter has generally failed at inclusivity. There are only a handful of character who are non-white, and while the books are a little more ambiguous, all eight films, in total, had less than seven minutes worth of dialogue spoken by people of color. Rowling does include some wonderful depictions of female characters, both good and evil, but she has often failed at any sort of LGBT+ representation. Although she stated in an interview back in 2007 that Dumbledore is gay, there is no explicit textual evidence in either the books or the movies to support this. Even though Dumbles and Grindelwald supposedly were lovers, there is not even a moment in The Fantastic Beasts movies in which you could guess that.
I have been, of late, incredibly disappointed (to say the least), in JK Rowling’s attempts to shoehorn diversity into the books via her Twitter. She can tweet about the supposed ethnic origins and sexualities of her characters, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was never openly stated in the books. She confirms that some characters in the books and movies are diverse everywhere except for the books and movies themselves. The most disappointing, lately, is Rowling’s open support of anti-trans people on Twitter (Jackson Bird wrote an incredible op ed in the New York Times in response to this, “‘Harry Potter’ Helped Me Come Out as Trans, But J.K. Rowling Disappointed Me.” Definitely give it a read). It’s odd that a woman who touted acceptance in her novels could display such bigotry in her actual life.
It’s disappointing to find that many of my favorite things fail even the most basic tests of representation. Does it mean that I stop liking these things? Not necessarily. Does it mean that these works are entirely racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, or otherwise problematic? Not always. Usually it just reveals whether the creator has some sort of prejudice in their private life. Does it mean we have to “cancel” a work of art entirely and stop liking the things we like? Usually it does not.
I think it is important to critique the art I enjoy. I have often been called a spoil sport (only sometimes this is deserved) for commenting on the implications and subtext of a movie or book. I’ll admit that it can sometimes be a “downer” to hear criticism of something you really like. Sometimes you just want to enjoy the songs in Disney’s Sleeping Beautywithout worrying that the Prince technically kissed a sleeping woman without her consent.
But let me let you in on a little secret: Critique does not equal dislike. Just because I criticize something, does not mean that I hate it.
Criticism is not usually fun. It is, however, essential to the creation and consumption of art. Art cannot survive without critique. And we cannot expect our culture to become a better and kinder if we never point out the bad and unkind things in its past.
In a way, due to the many mechanisms in place needed to produce anything, especially art, it is difficult to guarantee whether anything we consume is truly ethical. We obviously cannot stop buying everything for all eternity. But if we ever want improvement, we are going to have to be discerning about what we support. As L.N. Smith originally wrote in Sunrise Over Disney, “Every dollar you spend, or don’t spend, is a vote cast for the world you want.”
As users and consumers of food, art, media, fashion, technology and what have you, we have a responsibility to consider their impact. Nothing will ever get better otherwise.
One person commenting won’t change a whole system. But it’s a start.
It only takes one person to speak up. If critique didn’t exist, we would never have any progress. We will just keep doing the same things the same ways without ever changing them. One person can create a ripple.
So, where does that leave us in terms of critiquing the things we like? I am not saying that critique will erase centuries of problematic ideas. But it will guide us toward casting off those problematic ideas in the future.
When we acknowledge the problems in media and art, we create a dialogue. Sometimes, that dialogue can lead to a change. Maybe we notice pervasive trends and start to discuss their implications. Maybe we pay attention to diversity, or lack thereof, in production, and perhaps make some space for diverse people in the room where there wasn’t before. Maybe we open the possibility of solving these problems.
I ask more of the things I like because I like them. I want these things to be better. I don’t just want to tear children’s movies apart or make a mockery of classic literature. It is up to us to ensure and protect the legacy of the things we like.
It is often commented that it is pointless to view older works through a modern lens because those works are a product of their time. This comment is limiting. Obviously, I understand that there wouldn’t be a random female warden at a men’s prison in the 1930s and that Heathcliff’s abusive behavior in Wuthering Heights wouldn’t bat an eyelash in 1847 and that the overt racial stereotyping of minorities in movies like Disney’s Dumbo, The Aristocrats, and Peter Pan occurred in part due to the assumed racial stereotypes that their creators believed in and that Ross Geller’s homophobia and sexist assumptions are in part a product of a hypermasculine upbringing and ignorance. I know all of these things. The time and the context can explain a situation, but it doesn’t excuse the problem.
Not all types of criticism can be applied in all circumstances, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be useful. Maybe they reveal something about the society they lived in then, or they give us a guide in how we should (or should not) shape the society we live in now. Now we know better, and it is because of critique.
I like Harry Potter, I loved The Shawshank Redemption, and I adore Ratatouille. Enjoy what you enjoy. Watch the movie if you want to. You’re allowed to have fun. Enjoy these things now, but don’t forget to consider their impact a little later, when you get a chance.
Remember: If we want tomorrow to be any better, we have to acknowledge the issues in both the past and the present. Even the issues in the things we like.
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