Before 2017 I felt a fairly profound social kinship with 95% of film critics out there. Socially, I mean. Parties, lunches, late-night cafe hangs at film festivals, etc. Except for the dicks, phonies and elitists, which you’ll run into in any profession.
But since ‘17 a new breed of critic has come into being — SJWs, virtue signalers, representationals, safeties. Radicals with a woke axe to grind. I see them at screenings and mutter, “Oh, Jesus…keep your head down.” No talking to them, no trust or relaxation, no respect…fuck that noise. They’re almost the enemy. They certainly aren’t true-blue movie Catholics — they’re like the McCoys to my own crew, the Hatfields. Or something like that.