This week, Lionsgate released—and promptly pulled—a bold trailer for “Megalopolis,” an ugly but undeniably ambitious monster directed by Francis Ford Coppola late in his career.
Typically, movie trailers are filled with exaggerated quotes from unreliable critics—“quote whores,” as we call them—pulled out of context and peppered with exclamation points (a form of punctuation that critics rarely use in print, but is ubiquitous in movie trailers).
“A thrilling ride that will have you on the edge of your seat!” (From “Any Given Sunday”)
“The best Western since Unforgiven!” (“3:10 to Yuma,” “Hostiles,” or “Bone Tomahawk,” depending on who you ask.)
“Two thumbs up!” (Professional enthusiasts Siskel and Ebert in more movies than can be counted)
In the case of Megalopolis, the marketing team tried a different strategy. Instead of citing reviews from the Cannes Film Festival (where critics were largely disappointed, except for a few who tried to find something positive to say about the film), Lionsgate lied.
Whoever put this trailer together seemed to be operating under the assumption that you’d already heard that Megalopolis was a disaster, so they set out to discredit critics… by concocting negative reviews of Coppola’s previous triumphs. The trailer quotes Andrew Sarris and Pauline Kael’s critiques of The Godfather, and references parodies of John Simon and Rex Reed’s Apocalypse Now, on their way to proving critics wrong about these films.
“He was one filmmaker who was always ahead of his time,” a voice that sounded like Laurence Fishburne echoes.
There’s one problem: These critics didn’t write the smut that was in the movie’s trailer—which is not to say they weren’t tough on the movies. Rex Reed blasted Apocalypse Now as “artificial rubbish,” while John Powers complained that “his box of genius contains no jewel, not even a peach pit, but vapors.” (Saris and Kel were cynical in their coverage of The Godfather, which their reviews clearly had already been honored when they reviewed it in 1972. But they appreciated its genius nonetheless.)
So what happened here? If the trailer could have made the same point with real quotes, why invent them instead? I have a hunch: This is like what happens when lazy students use ChatGPT to do their homework. Let’s say the content writer for this trailer knew that these movies were panned at the time, but didn’t have the time to go to the local library (or the wherewithal to find actual reviews online).
Ask an AI assistant to find it for you, and the algorithm will do what any good language model is programmed to do: generate something that sounds reasonable. To test the theory, I asked ChatGPT, “What are some of the worst things movie critics have said about The Godfather and Apocalypse Now?”
This came out:
While The Godfather is widely considered one of the greatest films ever made, some critics were not initially enthusiastic. Here are some of the harshest criticisms:
Pauline Kael (The New Yorker):
• Kael, while generally a fan of Coppola, had mixed feelings about The Godfather. She called it a “long, slow, sloppy story,” criticized the film's pacing, and suggested that the film was more focused on its own greatness than on engaging the audience emotionally. She also suggested that the film was somewhat overrated, and that its popularity probably outweighed its actual value.
John Simon (New York Magazine):
• Simone was known for his scathing comments, and was not a fan of The Godfather, calling it “a glorification of the Mafia and a love of violence.” He also criticized the film's portrayal of Italian Americans, believing it perpetuated negative stereotypes.
As Renata Adler’s New York Times review (though she left Old Grey Lady in 1969) quotes her. That’s what programs like ChatGPT do: They tell you what you want to hear.
Others have suggested that the trailer creator made up the quotes himself, which may also be true (perhaps they were just hints passed along during the process). This was the excuse Sony gave in 2000, when it released a series of trailers that quoted a guy named David Manning, who always said nice things about its films.
“The ‘Big Daddy’ crew has produced another winner!” he said of Rob Schneider’s terrifying “The Animal.” He called Kevin Bacon’s “Hollow Man” “a very scary ride!” Except that David Manning wasn’t there, and the studio was obligated to offer a $5 refund to anyone who was duped into watching the films based on false advertising.
The truth is, nothing undermines film criticism more than studio marketing departments twisting and distorting our words to sound like exaggeration. They’ve been doing it for decades, and any smart moviegoer knows to take the “critics are raving” strategy with a grain of salt.
Personally, I regard my role as a film critic as being like a court steer: we taste the dish first to make sure it hasn’t been poisoned or otherwise spoiled. If it’s safe to eat, we’ll let you know. This is the consumer-advising aspect of our work, but it goes far beyond that: we also evaluate and analyze a film’s artistic strengths, and offer insights into how to improve an imperfect work of art.
Critics have long been accustomed to dismissing big-budget productions like Megalopolis. In 1979, Canby complained about the “lack of restraint on the artist” and lambasted Coppola for risking his fortune on such a “monumental scale” in his review of Apocalypse Now. A few years later, critics enjoyed skewering Michael Cimino for his blockbuster Heaven’s Gate. The press treated James Cameron’s Titanic as a colossal miscalculation (why would anyone want to see a movie when you already know the ending, as the joke goes) until it broke box-office records and tied Ben-Hur for the most Oscars of all time.
But that doesn't mean the critics will be proven wrong on this issue. He is It's a mess. The film is full of the great ideas that Coppola has been nurturing for a quarter century, but the blatant execution suggests that the great director has forgotten everything he's learned.
What’s surprising about the Megalopolis trailer is the suggestion that Lionsgate couldn’t find enough positive quotes to make the film look better than it is. Studios have been doing this for decades, and potential audiences may be skeptical of films that rely on untrue quotes, but they’re even more wary of films that start off without any endorsement.
Over the years, studio marketing departments have found ways to manufacture the synopses they want without inventing them entirely: For example, in the early 2000s, rather than trying to sway serious critics, why not invite die-hard fans—the bloggers and online press who were inclined to promote the G.I. Joe franchise and superhero movies—and let them do their reviews first, then pick the most enthusiastic reactions to your ads?
Today, they’re doing it with influencers, forgoing full-on media previews (the previews routinely given to the press) in favor of special promotional events, where people with TikTok followers are offered free cocktails and encouraged to share their reactions on social media.
This strategy almost always works for newcomers who aren’t used to being courted by studios. Perhaps the most notable example was when Sony sent Ain’t It Cool News founder (and self-described “nerd”) Harry Knowles to New York for the 1998 premiere of Roland Emmerich’s Godzilla, and the company received an enthusiastic endorsement in return.
But old pros fall into the trap too, especially the promotional press: semi-serious film journalists who commit to providing their “reactions” after screenings, which can then be featured in movie trailers. More recently, awards consultants have begun courting Oscar experts, inviting them in early and building awards campaigns around their reactions. It’s both kinds. Barter Arrangements that involve a clear conflict, as no one wants to be denied such access.
A few critics see a brief description as positive publicity for themselves and the media organisations they work for. This was the case with Sean Edwards, Peter Travers and Pete Hammond (in his Maxim days), who all benefited from a long exposure, for which they were rewarded with ridiculously exaggerated acclaim.
If you’re a self-promoter looking for quotes, here’s a quick tip: Use an “—ly” adverb right before a strong adjective (like “refreshingly original” or “amazingly derivative”). This construction is what appeals to marketing departments, who love phrases that sound positive (like “potboiler”), even when they’re not.
The Megalopolis trailer wasn’t the first time movie marketers have tried to turn negative reviews into money. In the early days of John Waters’s career, the wily, low-budget director would relish scathing reviews and plaster them on posters (“Pink Flamingos” quotes a Detroit Free Press review: “Like a septic tank bursting, you have to see it to believe it.”). Trailers for David Lynch’s Lost Highway, Darren Aronofsky’s Mother! and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre have all used negative reviews to their advantage.
in diverseWe deliberately write in a way that doesn’t take us out of context. The summaries you see in ads are personally signed by the critics who wrote them. It’s company policy that critics don’t give feedback until after the review is published, because experience has shown that these comments can be used against the reviewer—for example, if the producer learns that the reviewer didn’t like the movie, or if marketers use the spontaneous response in a campaign.
However, there are many times when diverse Commercials cite movie reviews, which makes sense. Trade papers review as many films as possible as soon as they premiere worldwide—at film festivals like Sundance, Cannes, and Toronto—and we cover dozens of films that most outlets would never review.
To keep my critic friends humble, I have a long-standing tradition of giving them a personalized T-shirt the first time one of their reviews is featured on a poster or ad. Each T-shirt has “QUOTE WHORE” written across the chest, and the offending phrase on the back.
There's nothing wrong with being quoted accurately (though it's rare), and I don't want to discourage new critics from supporting films that deserve it. But I do find it a bit jarring when a film critic's name appears in larger font than the filmmaker's or stars' names, and I find it helps remind you that your words can and will be used against you.
