Four Decades Under the Influence

 by Rob DiCristino

Indulge me, if you will, with an update.

I’m going to be straight with you: I don’t have a review for today. My son has Little League games during all of this week’s press screenings, the damn Sheep Detectives embargo doesn’t lift until Mother’s Day weekend, and Netflix wouldn’t send me a screener for Chandler Levack’s Roommates unless I interviewed one of its lead actors. So, in the interest of having something for you fine folks to read every Friday, I’d like to provide an update to a nearly ten-year-old post, one of my very first on the site.

As I said in that piece, I’ve always loved movies. Movies make me feel safe and understood. Movies give me guidance when no one else is willing or able. Movies are in my blood, really: My paternal grandfather owned the first independent video stores in Philadelphia, which is how my parents met as teenagers. Though he was more interested in lucrative business opportunities than he was movies — the home video market was exploding at the time — my grandfather provided me with the kind of unbridled access that would build a lifetime foundation. My maternal grandfather wasn’t much of a cinephile either, but his practice of copying movies from cable TV broadcasts and sorting those tapes alphabetically on a shelf must have had some influence on my own collector’s mentality. If you’re reading this, my journey from there probably matches your own: I learned all I could about movies and made them an integral, and often irritating, part of my personality.

I’ve also always loved writing. I tried my hand at fiction and poetry, but I really fancied myself a journalist. My defiant liberalism took shape during the George W. Bush era (era), and I found myself drawn to the work of Matt Taibbi and Hunter S. Thompson in Rolling Stone. Since I was also playing guitar in punk bands and heavily invested in that scene, I envisioned a career in music or political journalism. That’s what I’d do: I’d live from my laptop, damning the man and celebrating the arts. After a year as a journalism major at Temple University — where I was wisely advised that the field would be dead within a decade and that I should pursue something stable — I thought about the impact my teachers had made on my life and how I might do the same for others. I got my degrees and began teaching, assuming I’d left the creative arts behind.

Luckily, my first teaching post had an open elective slot and a principal willing to let a 22-year-old kid fill it with whatever he wanted. So, with an old copy of Looking at Movies and insufficient sense to be properly terrified, I built a film study program that I’m still refining to this day. A handful of college film classes and a solid collection of Criterion discs were my only real qualifications back then, but I learned infinitely more about the movies by teaching than I ever did as a student. Around the time my son was born, I decided to invest this new expertise in a creative outlet, which led to blogs, podcasts, and a cold email to Patrick with a PDF of my portfolio and an offer to write for F This Movie. I was on my way to therapy when I read his response. I don’t have Adam’s eidetic memory, but I’ll never forget that car ride. It changed my life.

Patrick guided me to the Online Film Critics Society, who rejected my first application — they said I needed more seasoning, and they were right — but accepted me the following year. Now, what does it actually mean to be in a critics’ group, you (and my mom) ask? Why is it important? Networking, essentially. Being in a critics’ group connects you to other writers and puts you on publicists’ mailing lists. From there, you build a profile doing interviews (if that’s your thing; it was never mine), voting for year-end awards, and reviewing the smaller indie titles that membership a smaller group like that provides. OFCS was a good start, but it wasn’t until I discovered the Philadelphia Film Critics Circle that I saw an opportunity to take a step up. Again, my first application was dismissed — they said I needed more seasoning, and they were right — but after a year-long mentorship, I became an official member in 2020. I now had access to press screenings and a higher tier of studio contacts and marketing agents.

The death of screen legend James Caan (sadly) provided my next opportunity: Our local FOX television affiliate was putting together a piece on his life and career for their morning show, and PFCC founder Rich Heimlich recommended that I go on to provide a cinephile’s perspective. Less than 24 hours later, I was on TV. I’ll tell you this: Being on TV is really fun! I’m normally a pretty quiet and introverted guy, but put me in front of a crowd or a camera — or a podcast microphone, apparently — and I become a cocky, obnoxious ham. It must be working, though, because I’ve been a regular guest on Good Day Philadelphia for six years and running. In 2024, armed with a modest broadcast portfolio and recommendations from WHYY legend Patrick Stoner and Good Day’s executive producer — thanks again, Vince! — I decided to apply to the Critics Choice Association. Why? The same reason as before: More contacts, more mailing lists, and more access. This time, I was finally seasoned enough to earn membership on my first try. I am, apparently, delicious.

So what’s the day-to-day of part-time film criticism actually like? Well, I don’t work in a big newsroom, but I do get a lot of emails: Press releases about upcoming movies. Offers to interview talent. Invitations to screenings. Indie filmmakers looking for somebody, anybody, to write a kind review about their work. I watch what I can and write about what I find interesting. I don’t have time to get to every screening — which, again, is why you’re reading this — but writing each week helps me scratch that creative itch and, honestly, helps me maintain free access to something I’d otherwise be spending a lot of money on. When awards season rolls around, studios send screening copies of movies For My Consideration (as well as mountains of swag, most of which gets donated), and I cast my votes for the best of the best. My choices are always 100% correct, and I never misjudge anything or make any mistakes.

But even as my profile expands — this past year, I’ve started guesting on roundtables for our local PBS radio station — F This Movie! has been my home. I would not have any of this if not for the love and friendship of Patrick, Adam, JB, and the rest of the FTM family. TV and radio are fun, but it’s the Reserved Seatings and Redboxings that have nourished me the most. It’s the Have You Seen Anything Good Latelys and the Scary Movie Months that have kept me invested. It’s the hours spent refining that Pet Sematary: Bloodlines review that no one will read (and then annoying Patrick with a third edit when I realize I’ve missed a typo) that have kept me sharp. That’s the good stuff. The everyday stuff. Niche communities come and go, but I believe FTM remains strong because we’re consistent. Whether you click on us or not, we’ve got something new for you every single day.

Which brings me to my larger point. People ask how I became a film critic. The answer is brutally simple: I just started writing and never stopped. Yes, the internet is overflowing with loquacious film bros, and it’ll take more than a good Letterboxd account to earn real credentials, but the truth is that I had no special access. I just started writing and never stopped. Ever! You can go back through the FTM archives and read all of it! I kept writing even when it was inconvenient and I was exhausted. I kept writing even when it was shitty and I was getting rejected. I just kept making the time and doing the work. For sure, I was lucky enough to get the attention of some generous gate-openers who put me on their shoulders and helped me up the next rung of the ladder, but I still had to do the damn work. So do the damn work. You’ll hate it for a while — because it’ll be bad for a while — but sometimes the only way out is through. Actually, sometimes the only way out is a 10:30 AM press screening of DC League of Superpets, but you get the idea.