Last week I was harking back to my days as a film, theatre and music reviewer for the University Student Newspaper. I ommitted one little yarn that still brings a smile to my face.

A posse of the reviewing staff had been summoned to a meeting inside the ragtag, poster-strewn and dimly-lit cave interior of the student newspaper office.

There we all were, in various reclining poses gathered on the stained red carpet floor that smelled of cigarrettes and booze, when the Editor – a guy I only ever knew as ‘Ed’ – never being certain if it was short for ‘Edward’ or ‘Editor’ – strode in barefoot wearing his faded blue skinny jeans with holes in them (before ripped jeans were a thing), stroking his Fu-Manchu-styled goatee and announced in his most earnest politicians-address-tone, “The record company is complaining about all the bad reviews we’ve been writing”.

At the speed of thought and with not even the flutter of an eyelid, one of our poison pen hacks – a clever wit named Scooter Patterson, who would go on to become a lawyer but not before being arrested and thrown into a McDonalds backroom cold storage freezer for staging a mock hold-up of the restaurant during Prank Week – shot back, ” Tell ’em then WE’RE complaining about all the sh-t records they’re sending us!”

Another thing from this time was the big-time like I had going for one of the celebrity film critics of the day, Pauline Kael (1919 – 2001). She began writing movie reviews for THE NEW YORKER in the late 60’s and continued up until 1991. She published more than a dozen books of film criticism as well during these years.

Such was her influence in the 1970’s, some U.S. film distributors introduced individual press screenings for each critic because her remarks in joint press screenings were thought to be influencing her fellow critics.

Director Quentin Tarrantino grew up reading Kael’s criticism voraciously. He’s been quoted as saying she was as influential as any director was in helping him evolve his own cinematic style.

I so loved the charm, wit and insight – the sheer ‘penmanship magic’ if you will – she brought to all of her reviews (which in the hands of others amounted to little more than glorified plot synopses) I reckon for a time I wanted to BE her, at least in the writing sense. No less than a writing superstar hero was what she was to me.

In 2018 a documentary celebrating her life was released with Sarah Jessica Parker (SEX & THE CITY) narrating.

How I got onto this topic in the first place was checking out a 1963 movie called CRITICS CHOICE. Lucille Ball plays a woman who has always wanted to write a play. Her husband (Bob Hope) who is an acid-tongued newspaper theatre critic is less than encouraging.

In a movie full of funny lines, Lucille Ball’s character knows too well the downside of being married to a paid opinion giver –

Born critics just can’t help themselves it seems…

Everyone, critics included, used to love this show – for the first five seasons anyway. Get your critical hit of HAPPY DAYS –HERE.