The Number Game

The Problem With Film Ratings

"A good decision is based on knowledge and not on numbers". The wit and wisdom of Mr Plato there. While, in the context I'm about to plonk the quote into, it's most certainly true, I think it's worth defending numbers. I always have been, always am and always shall be a hater of maths. I just can't get my head around it. However, statistics, I like. Percentages, scores out of 10, population sizes, that kind of thing. Essentially, it's a fact, boiled down into three characters. It's just the essentials. While you need to assess the necessary knowledge first, you should be thankful for the number that gives you a clearer, purer understanding of the facts.

The context I was referring to was review scores. If you hadn't figured that out, please re-read the first paragraph with this in mind, then move on to the next one where I actually start talking sense.


As anybody who ever visits this blog is no doubt acutely aware, I like to score films out of 10. I don't like the five-star system. For starters, there's not enough room to play with. Only having a 5-point scale to work with means that too many films will end up with the same ratings, and not having a midpoint is an issue. A midpoint is crucial, as most films are average. That's what the word means. A film cannot be noted as being average if it is 3 stars (Above average) or 2 stars (Below average). The only way for you to be able to have an average film on a five-star system is to start doing half stars, at which point it just becomes a 10-point system, but with the dreaded concept of a 'Five Star Film'. I have seen plenty of films in my time, but never have I come across a perfect one. However, by awarding five stars, you are suggesting that the film is flawless. There is no way that film could be better. While, on a flimsy five-point system, I understand this idea, as you haven't got the numbers to waste and need to somehow express the fact that the film is brilliant, on a ten-point system it isn't. The classic argument would go "Then what's the point in having it there?", but filmmakers need something to strive for. Perhaps a perfect film is out of reach. Perhaps it's not possible. But, in order for directors to continue making 8s and 9s out of 10, we need them to believe they could, one day, make a 10. I'm not against giving a 10, and so the moment I see a perfect film, trust me, I'll slap the big one-oh on it like it's a Mathematics-intollerant Tory MP who's just hurled profanities at my mother.

Final point on the five-point system: The lack of consistency. Different critics having different tastes is one thing, but when a film that is, by the reviewers' own admition, highly flawed, receives five stars, you can't really compare it to a hard-earned top rating from a publication who respects the highest mark it's willing to give. And if somebody is to take my advice and stay away from the highest mark unless absolute perfection is up on the screen in front of them, their review shall be at odds with the more enthusiastic one below it on the poster, even if the more conservative scorer enjoyed the film more. It's a daft system.

That, said, having now spent the best part of nine months working on a regular basis with a ten-point system, I can't claim it's much clearer. Whilst I have a clear distinction in my head, most people I speak to seem to find my scores harsh. What I do, is start at 5 when watching a film, and work my way up or down, depending on how I feel during the course of the screening. As a result, most films do nothing for me, and end up staying on a 5/10. Or films have as many good points as bad points, and balance out to find that sweet spot in the middle. Something like Dark Shadows, which was instantly forgettable and just rather dull, did nothing to please nor upset me, and that's the problem. However, by this principle, I awarded it 5/10, even though I disliked it. I give a 6/10 if a film is a good, solid example of the genre, a seven if I really enjoy it, and an eight if it feels, to be, like an exceptional piece of film making within the genre. A nine out of ten indicates an all-time great within that genre. In my opinion, there are only a small number of 9/10s lingering out there. Very few types of film manage to produce two or three of them. This years' The Muppets is, to me, the absolute high point of childrens' comedy, a genre I love, and as such got a 9/10. Nothing else this year has hit those kind of heights so far.

Sometimes, I enter a film loaded with goodwill, and I admit that this may have an impact on my score. However, I saw Lay The Favourite with a feeling of warmth towards it, (I like quirky romcoms. I like Bruce Willis. What could possibly go wrong?) and it turned out to be one of the most irritating, boring and generally appalling films I've seen all year. I also worry other critics or peers with whom I have watched the films' opinions have an impact on my score. Whilst often I find myself willing to go against the crowd, I do think the critical panning The Watch reduced the film to a 5/10, as, frankly, I enjoyed it, even if it was horribly scripted, unoriginal, lacking in heart and all the rest. At the same time, the desire to be different may have caught me. I saw The Watch in a group that also enjoyed it, and so as I recognised the clunkiness of gags that didn't involve Richard Ayoade, I felt a need to emphasis this. What I previously referred to as the 'Quirky Romcom' genre, basically gentle, well-spirited indie films with a relationship a heart, seem to score 7/10s across the board. (Ruby Sparks, Seeking a Friend For the End of the World, Liberal Arts, The Angels' Share) This shall always be a problem with review scores in general. A review shall tell you that the reviewer likes this sort of film. The number cannot. When the numbers are gathered together, perhaps, but individually, how are you to know that I like anything that reminds me of (500) Days of Summer when you see I gave that Keira Knightley/Steve Carrell romcom a seven?

The other main issue I have is whether or not to compare scores. I don't have any kind of cohesive argument here, so you may want to skip this paragraph if you thought my writing was quite good and don't want to be disappointed when you discover that I can mindlessly slap letter keys with the best of them. I initially gave The Woman in Black a 5/10, and wrote the five words "I only jumped four times". At this stage, I was not at all well-versed in the ways of horror movies. Since then, I've gone a bit mad with the power of having a cinema essentially at my Unlimited beck and call and found myself watching countless examples of a genre I've always claimed to not particularly enjoy. During this education on the ways of scares, I've come to realise that the Daniel Radcliffe film is actually a really good example of the genre, and the four jumps is actually the most any film this year has managed. It was only after watching Sinister and Paranormal Activity 4 back-to-back that I realised how good a movie Woman in Black was, and, having decided that Sinister was a 6/10 film, had to go back and change the score for the not-Harry Potter film to match that. Of course, I should really stand by that score, and shouldn't've changed the text either. (I don't even remember what I wrote, and it was only a couple of days ago) However, the fact that the page is how it is means that scores are naturally going to be compared. According to me, The Sweeney is as good as Anna Karenina and better than Paranormal Activity 4, but not as good as Madagascar 3. Can you really compare these four films? There's a reason I used the word genre so often in my explanation of the scoring system I stick to. You can't make too broad comparisons. I can, and shall, categorically say that The Woman in Black is better than The House at the End of the Street. I wouldn't, however, say that it is better than The Imposter. Firstly because it's not, but secondly because they're completely different types of film.

If you're just joining me again, then it actually wasn't that bad. You might as well read it whilst you're here.

There we are. I just broke my rule. I, for the purpose of a joke more than anything, compared the two. I said that, then I ignored it immediately. Here we are, your proof I had no organised argument. I do, however, like to have an organised list. I like to know what my top 10 films of the year are, in order, and I like to be able to do them in descending order, with special commentary and anecdotes from the directors at the drop of a hat. This goes against my main argument. But then, perhaps the problem with scoring films is that it's just going to contradict it's own rules. There is not a system that works for this. The out-of-ten scale is my favourite, having previously worked with percentages, and finding them so random until you reach about 80%. The other issue with percentages is that being, literally, by definition, 'Out of 100', you start at the top and work down, which isn't how I like to do things, as I think we established. Personally, I'm all for attaching a score at the end of a review. A summation, something that can be universally looked at. A ravishing review does not read so well in a foreign language. A score out of 10 reads just as well. This alone is not reason for keeping them going, granted, but I just find something comfoting about a score. You know where you are with one, despite the many, many issues.

Of course, ultimately the decision as to whether or not a film is worth seeing should come down to more than just the number. But, with the context I'd like to plonk it into, the number becomes so much more. It can tell you not just how good a film is, but what sort of feature a critic likes, whether they feel at all threatened by the wider critical society... Whatever. The number cannot justify itself, but that is not its job. Words job is to justify, numbers job is to state facts. Whatever this is that I've been writing for the past hour is proof of that. It's words, glorious, words, and I'm while I am going to keep scoring films out of 10, I am not going to stick a number on the end of this, where it is not needed. Not even for comic effect. That just wouldn't be funny.

Eigh- NO. I said I wasn't doing it. And I'm not.

What a terrible ending. It was actually going quite well up until that last few sentences. What a shame.