2026 marks my 25th year as a film critic and entertainment journalist, and what a wild ride it has been.
It’s incredible to think back to when I first started reviewing movies in 2001. There was no Rotten Tomatoes, no Letterboxd, no Facebook, no YouTube, no Instagram, no TikTok, and certainly no influencers or mommy bloggers being flown around the world to promote movies. Entertainment journalism looked completely different.
Back then, the conversation was driven by television entertainment programs, newspapers, magazines, radio, and a growing number of online publications that were just beginning to establish themselves. There was genuine excitement surrounding digital journalism because it felt like an opportunity to broaden the conversation rather than replace what already existed. Reviews weren’t reduced to a percentage score, a tweet, or a thirty-second reaction. Critics had room to develop their own voice, build relationships with readers, and have thoughtful discussions about film and the people who made it.
Over the last 25 years, technology has transformed every aspect of this profession. Social media gave everyone a platform, which has been both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it’s never been easier for passionate movie lovers to discover films, share recommendations, and connect with people around the world who share their passion. Independent filmmakers have more opportunities to find audiences, and fans have unprecedented access to the actors, filmmakers, and craftspeople behind their favorite movies and television shows.
At the same time, the business has become increasingly driven by clicks, algorithms, engagement, and speed. Reviews are often judged by a pull quote worthy headline or a numerical score rather than the substance behind the writing. Nuance has been traded for hot takes, outrage, and instant reactions. Instead of asking whether a film is interesting or worthy of discussion, the conversation often revolves around fandom, tribalism, or whether a review aligns with someone’s preconceived opinion. Too often, admiration for an actor, filmmaker, or franchise clouds objective analysis, and more people come across as fans or access seekers than professionals practicing criticism.
The rise of YouTube, podcasts, and social media creators has also reshaped entertainment coverage. Many talented creators have built successful careers and introduced perspectives that traditional media never could. That’s a good thing.
What isn’t good is how the lines between journalism, criticism, marketing, and fandom have become increasingly blurred. Early access, exclusive events, sponsored trips, and close relationships with studios and PR representatives have become part of the ecosystem, making it harder than ever for audiences to distinguish independent criticism from promotional content.
One of the biggest misconceptions today is that anyone with an opinion is automatically a critic. That’s simply not true.
Criticism isn’t about liking or disliking a movie. It’s about explaining why.
If something doesn’t work, you should be able to articulate why it fails. Likewise, if something succeeds, you should be able to explain what makes it effective. Saying, “It was fine. I didn’t care for the music choices, but the lead actress was very good,” isn’t meaningful criticism. It’s a reaction, not an analysis.
Look back at critics like Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert. They were passionate, thoughtful, and often brutally honest. They weren’t worried about whether a studio would stop inviting them to screenings or whether talent would unfollow them on social media. Their loyalty was to their audience first.
Today, it sometimes feels like critics are walking on eggshells because they’re afraid of losing access, and that’s a dangerous place for criticism to be.
I don’t say that hypothetically. I’ve lived it.
I’ve been removed from junkets simply because I didn’t like a movie and posted my opinion on social media. I’ve watched people accentuate the positives because they want to keep getting invited to screenings, junkets, and premiere events. When access becomes more valuable than honesty, criticism stops serving its audience and starts serving the industry.
That’s the inevitable consequence of lowering the barriers to entry. There will always be people willing to say whatever needs to be said to secure the next invitation, exclusive interview, or sponsored trip.
It’s also strange to see the growing backlash against criticism itself. It’s easy to understand why actors and filmmakers don’t enjoy negative reviews because let’s be real, nobody likes being criticized. But criticism, when it’s thoughtful and constructive, is essential to improvement.
There’s a reason some chefs build Michelin-starred restaurants while others work at Applebee’s. Honest feedback helps people grow. Without criticism, it’s impossible to distinguish what is truly great from what is merely good or simply not working.
Even the way audiences consume movies has changed dramatically. I’ve watched the industry move from VHS to DVD, from theatrical exclusivity to streaming becoming the dominant force. Mid-budget dramas, romantic comedies, and adult-oriented films that once thrived in theaters now more often debut on streaming platforms, while theatrical releases increasingly revolve around established franchises and event movies. Every so often an original film breaks through, reminding everyone that audiences are still hungry for something new.
The way we discover, discuss, and even remember movies has fundamentally changed.
Reading all of the recent articles claiming that Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey won’t have influencer screenings, which I am calling bullshit on, has already made me reflect on how much this business has evolved over the past quarter century.
Podcasts have largely become today’s version of celebrity talk-show interviews, and there’s room for that. I’m not anti-influencer the way some people are. I simply don’t believe any one form of media should replace another.
There should be balance.
Traditional journalists, professional critics, podcasters, YouTubers, influencers, and everyday movie fans can all exist within the same ecosystem. The problem is that the industry increasingly swings from one extreme to another instead of embracing a healthy mix of perspectives.
General audiences have also lost faith in critics, and some of that skepticism is understandable. Since the pandemic, we’ve repeatedly seen audiences reject critical consensus because they believe critics have an agenda. Sometimes that’s true. Often it isn’t. The reality is that criticism works best when there is a wide variety of independent voices, not when everyone is chasing the same access or worried about upsetting the same people.
People are also becoming increasingly aware when they’re being marketed to, and they don’t like it. Not everything is great. Not every movie deserves universal praise.
Studios and publicists also deserve some responsibility for helping build an ecosystem around numerical scores and platforms like Rotten Tomatoes. While those scores have undoubtedly helped some films, they’ve also hurt others by reducing nuanced criticism to a single percentage. More importantly, they often create expectations that many average moviegoers feel aren’t reflected in their own experience.
Many people argue that it’s not a critic’s job to sell tickets.
I agree.
But trusted critics who spend years building credibility absolutely can influence audiences. That’s always been true. The difference today is that credibility has become harder to identify because the lines between journalism, criticism, promotion, and fandom have become increasingly blurred.
Perhaps the biggest disappointment is that many of us allowed it to happen.
Access has become a form of currency. No money changes hands, but being among the first to see a movie, interview an A-list actor, attend a premiere, or travel to a studio event carries real value. When many entertainment journalists earn very little or sometimes nothing for their time and work, those opportunities become a form of compensation.
I’ve even watched awards voters, not just critics, attend FYC events largely because they know they’ll get a free meal and drinks. That’s the economic reality of the industry today.
None of this means entertainment journalism is dying. Far from it.
There are still exceptional critics, journalists, podcasters, YouTubers, and creators producing thoughtful work every single day. There are still publications that value integrity over access. There are still readers who want analysis instead of validation.
What has changed is that audiences have become smarter because technology has given them so many options to choose from. They recognize when they’re being sold something. They can tell the difference between genuine enthusiasm and manufactured excitement. Trust has become the most valuable currency any critic can possess.
After 25 years, that’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned. Technology will continue to evolve. New platforms will emerge. The industry will keep changing.But the responsibility of a critic should never change. Tell the truth. Explain your opinion. And always remember that your first loyalty isn’t to a studio, a publicist, or a celebrity. It’s to yourself and the audience.
