Programming, Peranson says, is less analysis than finding a good fit in terms of sections, stakeholders and timing

(© Muhammad Hamed/International Film Criticism Conference)

On 8 November, during Riyadh’s International Film Criticism Conference (7-9 November), Canadian critic, programmer and filmmaker Mark Peranson took part in a conversation titled “Critical Crossroads”, moderated by Lebanese critic Chafic Tabbara.

Tabbara opened by addressing the emotional weight of the closure of Cinema Scope, the influential film magazine that Peranson founded and edited for nearly a quarter of a century. Peranson explained that wrapping up the publication “was more a practical than an ideological decision”, the result of accumulated organisational and financial pressures, rather than a reflection on the state of criticism.

When Cinema Scope launched in Toronto in 1999, “there were few printed magazines and no online film journals to speak of”. The idea, he recalled, was to fill that void and build a community of like-minded writers “talking about film in ways that weren’t happening in mainstream newspapers”. Yet despite its longevity and global reach, the magazine remained a small-scale operation. “We never had a proper infrastructure or backing,” he said. “It was fully independent to the end.”

Maintaining a printed magazine, he continued, depends on two things – subscriptions and advertising – and both became increasingly difficult to sustain. Even though the website attracted many readers, print copies rarely exceeded 1,000 subscribers. “People still tell me it’s sad that we stopped publishing,” he smiled, “but I know exactly how many people bought it.”

Peranson resisted the notion that the magazine’s closure signals the end of serious readership. Long-form criticism, he said, was never a popular form. “A normal person doesn’t want to read a 3,000-word essay about a film they might never see,” he argued. Instead, such writing serves “a very specific community” – one that values depth over immediacy.

Asked whether he still identifies primarily as a critic, Peranson admitted he spends far less time thinking about criticism than he did 25 years ago. His focus has shifted towards programming – first at Locarno, then as head of programming for the Berlinale until 2024 – and towards the institutional frameworks that shape cinema today. Yet he acknowledged that younger writers continue to emerge, noting that if people miss Cinema Scope, “they can start their own magazine – online, it’s easy”. What’s harder, he added, is finding the energy and persistence required to sustain it.

Peranson drew a sharp distinction between watching films as a critic and as a programmer. “It’s not fun,” he confessed with disarming honesty. Critics, he noted, see films already filtered by production and selection; programmers face an endless deluge of submissions. “When I was at Berlin, I went through roughly 1,000 films a year,” he recalled. The task is less about analysis than about assessing whether a title can fit within a festival’s architecture.

Despite this fatigue, the critical instinct persists. Once a film shows potential, he said, “you can’t help but go back to the mode of being a critic and analyse it”. Presenting a movie at a festival ultimately becomes a promotional act, “not that different from criticism – you’re still helping audiences understand why it matters”.

Peranson’s programming philosophy privileges discovery not as authorship but as recognition. Recalling the selection of Bi Gan’s debut, Kaili Blues, at Locarno, he said the term “discovery” is misleading: “The film exists; you just happen to see it and recognise its worth.”

Peranson also spoke about his own forays behind the camera, including Waiting for Sancho and La Última Película, made with Filipino helmer Raya Martin. Both projects, he explained, emerged organically from his curiosity as a critic. Filming became “a form of visual criticism, the camera taking the place of the pen”.

In the final part of the session, the discussion turned to the condition of contemporary film criticism, especially for newcomers. Peranson painted a bleak picture of the North American landscape: “Most newspapers have cut their critics or rely on syndicated pieces that appear in dozens of outlets. Alternative weeklies are gone. The internet is the only place left – but it’s hard to make a living from it.”

For young writers, he advised relentless curiosity and immersion. “If you decide you want to be a film critic and you haven’t watched a lot of films, I don’t know what you’re doing,” he said. Reading widely is just as crucial – not only writers you agree with, but those who challenge you. “The most valuable reviews are the ones that make you think, ‘I didn’t see it that way, but they’re right.’”

Peranson considers good criticism a personal art form: subjective, self-revealing, yet connected to the wider world. “It’s not a neutral activity,” he noted. “The best critics write about themselves as much as about the film.”

Asked about the changing role of critics, Peranson downplayed the idea that they once shaped box-office outcomes. What matters, he suggested, is the ability to influence culture – to inspire others to write, watch and think differently.

During the Q&A, when asked about the role of the trades, he observed that their influence has also waned. “They do far fewer reviews than before,” he explained. “Often, they’ll ask which films are likely to sell – that’s become their priority.” Despite this, he admires trade writers’ discipline: “I’m always impressed by people who can produce coherent, insightful reviews ten hours after watching a movie at Cannes or Berlin.”