The trouble with junkets

>> A faked-reporter scam ignites questions about the state of film criticism

by MATTHEW HAYS

The Sony corp. continues to blush bright red about the phony-critic scandal this week. Uncovered almost two weeks ago by Newsweek reporter John Horn, the scam made for good copy virtually everywhere. In their infinite good judgment, it seems two Sony publicists dreamed up a fake movie critic, David Manning, and gave him a home (the Ridgefield Press, an actual weekly). Then they attributed a bunch of quotes to their virtual friend, all in praise of such of-questionable-quality films as A Knight's Tale, The Animal and Vertical Limit.

But perhaps just as telling was the widespread cynicism the scandal was met with. While the story made headlines, pundits and news anchors were quick to point out that there seemed to be little or no reason to make someone up. Aren't most film critics for sale anyway?

True, attitudes towards what was once considered a cool gig have changed quite dramatically over the past two decades. Once seen as arbiters of a vital art form, film critics are now often seen as little more than extensions of Hollywood's publicity machine. Writing in Tuesday's National Post, columnist Robert Fulford welcomed the scandal as some form of respite, calling Sony's fake critic "a refreshing take on movie hyperbole." Critics themselves were wringing their hands about the state of their business in last winter's issue of Cineaste, the political film mag. In a symposium of opinion, in which every major U.S. critic--from David Denby to Lisa Schwarzbaum to Stanley Kaufman--chimed in on the state of their craft, many of their responses suggested a deeply-held lament about how bad things had become. Add to that a scandal concerning a Variety critic allegedly accepting screen credits in return for certain favours, as well as an L.A. Times four-part exposé on the rather rancid state of film-industry reporting, and you've got a bad year for the profile of the movie critic.

Deconstructing the junket

Sitting at the epicenter of much of this disdain appears to be the movie junket. Chicago Sun-Times critic (and TV star) Roger Ebert suggested last week that there had been little reason for Sony to create anyone fake, as the studios could always rely on "Quote Whores." The Quote Whore system, Ebert explained, works like this: "Entertainment 'journalists' are flown to L.A. at studio expense. They are lodged at a nice hotel, taken to a premiere, and allowed interviews with the stars. And they get a per diem payment of around U.S.$200... How do you qualify as a Quote Whore? You give good quote. Freebie junketeers sometimes scribble down words of praise and pass them to publicists right there at the junket."

It gets worse: "In one case documented by Variety," Ebert stated, "a publicist wrote up several 'sample' quotes and asked the junketeers to sign up for the ones they liked."

Though many civilians might not know what a junket is, they are well understood by film critics. They had their beginnings with the release of Stanley Kramer's epic '63 movie It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. Stuck with an all-star cast and high-hope-filled pressure from studio execs, Hollywood publicists were in a bind. How to fill all the requests for interviews, for such a sprawling, star-studded cast? The solution became clear: instead of flying stars out to various premieres and press conferences across the country, simply hold one big premiere and arrange access to the stars in Hollywood and fly the journalists in for the events. The result would sate media appetite for star content while saving the studios huge sums of money.

Though junkets have now become widespread, they are still regarded by many as something akin to a deal with the devil. For editors facing evaporating budgets and cut-throat competition in oversaturated markets, advance screenings of movies and exclusive access to stars can be mighty tempting. And while many have been busy trashing the junkets and their attendees, voices--while clearly in the minority--have piped up to defend the practice.

Fighting back

After a series of critics demonized the junkets in the pages of the L.A. Times, Joey Berlin, President of the Broadcast Film Critics Association, chimed in. "Junkets have become a Hollywood institution because they are a cost-effective way for studios to generate publicity," Berlin wrote in a June 4 op-ed rebuttal to the junket junking. "They allow dozens or even hundreds of entertainment reporters to get timely access to actors and directors who could never be available to as many people without the assembly-line efficiency of a junket."

In response to a charge that junketeers must avoid any negative criticism of the movie they're junketed for, Berlin writes "This is flat-out wrong and spits in the face of the hard-working journalists who spend up to 40 or more weekends a year on the "junket circuit," gathering whatever juicy morsels they can to satisfy the insatiable appetite for news about Hollywood... I have conducted literally thousands of junket interviews and never once submitted, or was asked to submit, my questions to a publicist beforehand, contrary to [this] offensive and inaccurate depiction of the junket system."

In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit that, from time to time, I have taken the plunge and accepted a junket invite--about two or three a year, to be precise. (Come, come now, loyal readers: upon reading my description of an L.A. locale, you can't possibly have thought the Mirror was coughing up the cash for my trip there?)

My first brush with them came some four years ago, when we were offered a flight to and hotel in Manhattan for the film A Life Less Ordinary. This seemed a sure-fire no-brainer. The film was emanating from the same team, helmed by director Danny Boyle, who'd created the indie wonders Shallow Grave and Trainspotting. A perfect match, it might seem, for Mirror readers. And with rising stars Ewan McGregor and Cameron Diaz doing round tables (smaller versions of press conferences, in which about six journalists sit with the star in question, taking turns asking questions), where could we go wrong?

In all sorts of places, as it turned out. And a lesson was to be learned: we had guaranteed cover placement for the movie, which, as it turned out, was one of the very worst of the year. Boyle's unbeatable track record had been beaten, and we got to put it on our cover. No more promises of placement, we learned right then. The occasional junket, maybe, but absolutely no guarantees--ever--of a cover story to anyone.

Joining the Fight Club

A happier conclusion came three years later, when I attended the Fight Club junket in L.A. Cool stars (Brad Pitt and Ed Norton), shitdisturbing director (David Fincher) and edgy buzz surrounded the project and, after seeing the film and conducting the interviews, I felt the movie did warrant a cover story. There were no guarantees, simply a screening and access to the "talent," as the interview subjects are referred to by publicity types. As well as interviews with the actors, I was granted more than half an hour to talk to Fincher, a highly intelligent director who had some fascinating things to say about his oeuvre and the state of Hollywood.

Then there are the rather sordid reasons for attending a junket. Yeah, yeah, it didn't take Jojo Savard to see that The Sixth Day was going to be utter crap, "a total recall of Total Recall," as I called it in my write-up. But hey, this was a chance to throw some curveball questions at pop cultural oddity Arnold Schwarzenegger. And though the studio would clearly be getting some extra publicity out of the profile, my suspicion was that most readers, like myself, might want to read impressions of the fading action star, while not rushing to see his latest carbon-copy vehicle. I felt that the junket worked to good advantage: some unusual quotes, a few observations about the man's physical presence (he is odd looking) and my honest assessment of the film (surprise!--it wasn't very good).

Still, while the occasional junket may seem innocuous enough, they do give reason to pause, when one considers that there are veritable junket junkies out there, critics who spend virtually every weekend at a posh hotel, rubbing elbows with various stars and loading up on free soap and shampoo, and then reporting various findings to readers or viewers.

The balance will be found, ideally, by critics and editors who have a solid interest in the medium of cinema, while also acknowledging our ongoing and undeniable intrigue with celebrity. Film criticism doesn't have to be an endless academic diatribe, nor does it have to devolve into nothing but starstruck pablum. My suspicion is the trade will survive junkets, especially now that the debate about their potentially insidious effects has become so public. The readers' mission, should they choose to accept it, is to find critics the readers trust to cut through the hype and present their opinions honestly.

Matthew Hays has been a film critic at the Mirror for eight years. According to all accounts, he actually does exist