Subjectivity vs. Objectivity: How we experience film as viewers

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time lurking in the film subforum lately, and I can't shake the feeling that most discussions have drifted toward pure subjectivity rather than any semblance of objectivity. It makes me wonder—how much objectivity can a person actually claim when dealing with film (or really any art form), and how much weight should we truly give to someone else's take? I’ve noticed that most people—and I mean generally, not just here—tend to form opinions that are maybe two-thirds subjective and one-third objective, yet they present them as if they were entirely their own unique insight. I’ll admit, I used to fall into that trap myself, but over time I’ve tried to learn how to be more objective and apply that more consistently—not that I’m trying to lecture anyone here, though I suppose there might be a lesson in it. We all know being 100% anything is impossible, whether we're talking about subjectivity or objectivity. For instance, when a movie really hits us in the gut, we love to slap labels like "perfect," "genius," or "the greatest" onto it, even when we know deep down that isn't true. We know a work can approach perfection, but it can never fully embody the word. Being objective is a massive struggle because film is essentially two-sided. You have the technical side—the tangible stuff you can actually measure—and then there’s the complete opposite, which is purely intangible. That second part is almost impossible to critique objectively, and that's where the "friction" happens when we try to exchange or present our views. Take, for example, how many cinephiles, critics, or reviewers will stubbornly insist that Stanley Kubrick is the greatest director of all time. They turn that opinion into a universal constant, effectively creating this invisible yardstick for directorial quality. Doesn't it feel like using a word like "best" as a fixed standard is a bit of a stretch? Do you think it's even possible to answer questions like "who is the best" given the sheer, chaotic diversity of cinema? Is it even doable?

I realize I might have gone off on a bit of a tangent there—it just sort of took hold of me, and I find it hard to fight back against those kinds of thoughts. So, go easy on me.

After all that rambling, you're probably wondering what the point of all this is. The title is the "hook."

Yeah, you hit the nail on the head there, though I suppose there are those rare few who actually possess the discipline to judge a movie by its own merits rather than letting their personal baggage cloud the view. Take Pauline Kael, for instance; if you dive into her critiques—and she certainly didn't hold back on anything—you see what true mastery looks like. That’s really the gold standard we should be aiming for. (Though, I can't tell if I'm being a bit pushy by saying that...)

I'd like to think I'm actually pretty good at avoiding that kind of ego-driven lecturing; instead, I try to tap into what someone else is actually feeling, what moves them, or what specific cinematic itch they're trying to scratch. My goal is just to find those common threads and suggest films that speak to that same mood or dilemma. Maybe I'm just being optimistic, but...

I think people get tripped up because my tastes are all over the map—one day I'm waxing poetic about Ingmar Bergman, the next I'm vibing with Pierre-Auguste Renoir, then I'll pivot to some random Dad flick, or dive straight into total trash, or suddenly find myself obsessed with Hidden. On paper, it makes zero sense. But for me, the real challenge is stripping away the noise to see a good film for what it is, especially since I've realized my own biases against certain genres or directors have cost me plenty of great movies in the past. At the end of the day, you just have to keep watching...

I suspect there are a handful of people out there capable of separating their personal feelings from the universal qualities of a work, but it’s a safe bet there will always be those stray personalities who either add to or detract from a text—or a spoken thought—based solely on their own baggage. Just remember, you probably formed most of your opinions (not necessarily your entire worldview, mind you) immediately after watching a movie. When you finish a film, you quickly decide whether it worked for you or not, and only then do you start digging deeper. That’s how I operate, at least, and I suspect it's how most people do it. The thing is, once you watch something and tell yourself "I actually really liked this movie", it’s going to have that certain visceral pull, regardless of how many times you later change your mind about its technical merits. That’s the personal, subjective core of a work, not some tired cliché regarding first impressions. You might eventually realize a film is technically quite flawed, but deep down, you'll subconsciously recall that initial good experience—and that’s almost certainly why you had that immediate reaction right after the credits rolled. I’ve had the opposite experience, too. Take Michelangelo Antonioni’s Profession: reporter as an example; for me, it was an incredibly taxing and frankly tedious watch. Antonioni could lean into the infinite beauty of his visual frames and soundscapes all he wanted, but he just couldn't hit that specific sweet spot for me. I formed my opinion immediately based on what I just described, only to realize a few days later that the film is actually technically superb. Even so, that realization didn't fundamentally shift my stance on it. So, I continue to rely on my gut while striving to be as objective as possible. A film demands a full analysis, not just an emotional one.

When it comes to prejudice, I’ve been guilty of ignoring plenty of great cinematic discoveries myself, which is something I regret. I still find myself following that instinct, which rarely leads me astray. But rarity is a risk when we're talking about common ground. My biases weren't directed at genres, though; they were aimed squarely at certain directors.

p.s. Sorry for the wall of text. I tend to get carried away...

I try my best to stay objective when I’m pitching a movie I loved, but I’ll be the first to admit that sometimes my passion just takes over. If a film really hits me in the gut, I’m going to rave about it to anyone who will listen! I feel like there's always something to pull out of a movie, so I try to tailor my recommendations to the specific person I'm talking to. If I know someone doesn't share my taste, I won't push my favorites on them—that just feels wrong. When people ask what I think, I can't just give a one-word answer like "good" or "bad." I want to dive into the direction, the acting, the script, the score... the whole package. If a movie touches me on a deep, sentimental level, I usually wait until after they've seen it to talk about those parts. Part of it is avoiding spoilers, sure, but mostly I don't want to project my own emotional reaction onto them. In my experience, if you tell someone how much a movie moved you, they end up expecting too much, and then they're rarely satisfied. Honestly, seeing rave reviews from others might nudge me toward watching something, but it won't change my mind once I've sat down to watch it. Just because a movie is critically acclaimed doesn't mean I have to love it, though I definitely respect the craft. I also try not to pigeonhole myself into one genre or director—I'm pretty open-minded like that. That said, I'll admit I have a low tolerance for certain comedies; I tend to gravitate toward films with a bit more substance. But hey, that doesn't mean I won't watch a comedy or recommend one if I think it's right up someone else's alley.

Also, trying to pick just one director or one single movie as "the best" is just absurd to me. There are way too many moving parts involved, and I totally agree that calling something "the best" is an impossible task. To actually make that call, you'd practically have to watch every film ever made, and even then, it would still be subjective. At the end of the day, opinions are personal. Personally, I prefer saying "my favorite." It’s still subjective, of course, but at least it isn't making a grand claim to anyone else.

Btw, it's so nice to see long posts on this forum 😉 I get carried away quite often too 😍 😁

Peter Ortiz4 said:The thing is, when you sit through a movie and tell yourself, "I actually really liked this," that feeling sticks to the film like glue, regardless of how many times you later decide to pick apart its technical flaws. It’s that deeply personal, subjective connection to the work that bypasses the usual cliché of first impressions. Even if you eventually realize the cinematography was messy or the pacing was off, there's always that subconscious echo of the initial experience rattling around in your head, which is likely why you felt that way in the first place...

If I'm following your logic correctly... you're talking about a film's emotional memory. And yeah, that stays with you if something hits home personally, right up until...

...the moment you rewatch it years down the line. That’s usually when I realize how much I’ve changed, and how much every single movie I’ve watched in the interim has shaped me—not to mention everything happening in my actual life outside the theater.

It happens often where something that used to gut me just doesn't land anymore. When that emotional weight lifts, you finally get a clear shot at judging the "cinematic skeleton" of the piece, which is its own kind of valid experience. It brings us right back to your point regarding how much subjectivity bleeds into our criticism. Honestly, I think we can learn quite a bit about ourselves from that process, and maybe even more about other people. It's actually pretty fascinating.

Peter Ortiz4 said:For instance, you’ve got all these cinephiles, critics, reviewers, and whatever else, who have enough nerve to claim Stanley Kubrick is the greatest director to ever live. They take that consensus—let's call it what it is, the majority opinion—and turn it into some kind of fixed constant. That's how they manufacture this invisible yardstick for directorial quality.

A perfect example of critics forcing their views down our throats is Stanley's swan song, "Eyes Wide Shut".
The global critical establishment hailed it as an absolute masterpiece executed with total mastery.
In reality, it’s just a tedious, pretentious, ultra-long episode of "Tales of the Unexpected".
I don't think anyone's reputation has ever been quite so blinded by its own hype...

Unfortunately—though maybe not—I don't quite see eye to eye with you. Actually, I was right there with you until you hit that point where you insisted Eyes Wide Shut is just a boring, pretentious slog. What feels tedious to one person might be riveting to someone else, and vice versa—which is really the heart of what we're discussing here. It's about how much objectivity any single viewer can claim, and how much objectivity exists within the collective audience. Your take is that the film is boring and pretentious, which is a sentiment shared by others (myself included, in this instance). I'm not suggesting you need to listen to me and suddenly "realize" the movie isn't what you think it is—that's obviously not going to happen. Anything else you could say about the film would essentially just be a critique of Stanley Kubrick, and I don't think we want to go down that rabbit hole here. A film is either good or it isn't; there shouldn't be some universal standard that every viewer is forced to follow. That’s my stance. To one person it's a masterpiece, to another it's good, to someone else it's okay, then there's bad, terrible... or just boring. Those "labels" are matters of taste, whereas "pretentiousness" is a concept deep enough to warrant its own dissertation...

@Brenda Lee50/">@@Brenda Lee50, nice little jab there—I have to give you credit. I actually felt differently before reading your post, but honestly, there are some films where your entire perspective shifts completely after seeing them again years later.

@Shamaness, I appreciate your take; it's independent and doesn't feel forced at all. Over time, I've noticed how women tend to master the art of being less intrusive before we men even realize it (and I don't mean flirting or sucking up). It took me quite a while to develop a viewpoint similar to yours. It's a shame that "similar" is still just an approximation.

p.s. My opinion hasn't changed: subjectivity remains primary in our criticism, while objectivity is secondary. There are always exceptions, but usually, those exceptions involve subjectivity being absolute rather than just primary, let alone secondary. Unfortunately—or perhaps not...

I get what you're saying about subjectivity, but we have to face facts: some movies are masterpieces regardless of what any critic says. We shouldn't just be surprised by them; we should respect them for what they are. On the flip side, some movies are just straight-up garbage, period.

You really have to "consume" a massive amount of cinema before you can actually start judging what makes a movie tick. Only then—and it might take a lifetime—can you truly begin to speak about these films as distinct works of art. I don't know if anyone else here feels this way, but personally, I feel like I haven't quite reached that level of expertise yet...

I don't recall anyone actually agreeing that Eyes Wide Shut was some undisputed masterpiece. Honestly, several heavy hitters in the critic world and major publications just brushed it off entirely. I'm not even talking about the predictably biased takes from >—we all know how that goes—but rather more mainstream outlets like the >, >, or even >. You’ve even got the legendary > being cited, where she basically dismissed Eyes Wide Shut as being "ludicrous from the word go."

It’s nearly impossible to strip away subjectivity when a film hits you; cinema is designed to trigger an emotional response.
Whether that feeling is positive, negative, or something entirely else, it belongs to us.
True objectivity requires more than just a gut reaction—it demands actual expertise and life experience.
When you find someone who can balance both, their take becomes a genuine recommendation worth following.

Two films just crossed my mind that share the exact same premise,
released within just a single year of each other.
The first, Dangerous Liaisons, is the one critics fawn over, boasting much bigger stars, yet personally, I found myself leaning toward the second one, Valmont.
The way Milos Forman constructs his narrative really resonates with me;
the emotional impact he pulls off is just much stronger.
If I’m being objective, the first film is technically superior by professional standards,
but subjectively? Valmont is my winner.

I’ll be the first to admit that my movie takes are purely subjective
I try to watch everything out there—really, I do!—and I make it a point never to dismiss any cinematic work prematurely

When I’m watching stuff on my own, I tend to split movies into two simple camps: "watchable" and "unwatchable." Honestly, that’s pretty much my entire criteria whenever someone asks me, "Hey, is this movie any good?"

To me, a "watchable" movie is one that actually manages to grab my attention and hold it for at least the first two-thirds of the runtime
On the flip side, if a movie is "unwatchable," it usually means I ended up nodding off because it just couldn't keep me engaged

I should also mention that there's a whole category of films that I think are strictly meant for watching with a group of people—which, in those cases, makes them "watchable"—whereas other movies are definitely things I’d rather "digest" solo...
And let's be real, there are certain films that I’d only ever recommend watching at a very specific time of day!

The thing is, none of us are actual experts here—not film buffs, not critics, not even close. We’re just people sharing how we saw the movie.

If you ask me, "expertise" when it comes to the art of cinema is an incredibly relative concept. Sure, there are people who claim the title of expert—as if it’s some kind of holy designation—but most of the time, it really just boils down to how much trivia they’ve memorized and how slickly they package that information to present themselves to the public.

Directors generally make movies for a few specific reasons:

1) themselves
2) the audience
3) profit—you know, cold hard cash
4) a messy cocktail of those three factors combined

Looking at that list, we fall squarely into the second category. By leaning into that "audience" status, we rely on our own raw senses—basically, whether we actually enjoy the movie or not. For us, what matters is experiencing the film on our own terms; if we don't feel it, we aren't satisfied. And honestly, no matter what some self-proclaimed "expert" says, it’s nearly impossible to talk someone out of their own visceral reaction. To my mind, technical expertise in this medium is secondary—and in many cases, completely unnecessary. There’s a high probability that only a tiny fraction of filmgoers care about the technical or material value of a production, while the vast majority connects with the non-material, emotional core of the work. Ideally, one should aim for a middle ground, though finding that balance can be a bit of a struggle...

this is a thread for philosophy