Richard Brody is the kind of writer who makes you want to throw your laptop across the room and then immediately sign up for a MUBI subscription. Honestly, if you've ever scrolled through Film Twitter or checked the "Goings On About Town" section in The New Yorker, you’ve likely encountered his brand of high-brow, often contrarian, and deeply personal criticism. He’s the guy who will pan a beloved Oscar frontrunner like Tár or The Zone of Interest while writing a glowing, three-page defense of a movie starring a singing CGI crocodile.
Born in 1958 and raised in Roslyn, New York, Brody didn’t start out as the "Front Row" institution we know today. He was a Princeton student who got his world rocked by Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless in his freshman year. That one screening basically set the trajectory for his entire life. He spent years in the wilderness of independent filmmaking—even making a 1995 feature called Liability Crisis—before landing at The New Yorker in 1999. Since then, he’s become more than just a critic; he’s a sort of cinematic lightning rod.
The Godard Obsession and the Auteur Theory
You can’t talk about Richard Brody without talking about Jean-Luc Godard. He literally wrote the book on the guy—Everything Is Cinema: The Working Life of Jean-Luc Godard. It’s a massive, 700-page beast that argues everything Godard ever put on screen was a diary entry of his personal life.
Brody lives and breathes the "auteur theory." This is the idea that the director is the "author" of the movie, and their personal style and life should be visible in every frame. While most critics are busy talking about the plot or the acting, Brody is looking for the "cinematic" soul. He’s obsessed with the way a camera moves. To him, a movie isn't just a story; it’s a political and personal statement by the person behind the lens.
This focus is why he’s so divisive. He doesn't care if a movie is "entertaining" in the traditional sense. He cares if it's alive.
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Why people get mad at his reviews
- He hates the "prestige" look: If a movie looks too polished or "airless" (a favorite Brody insult), he’ll trash it. He famously disliked Past Lives, calling it "genteel."
- Contrarianism as an art form: He praised Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile and Don’t Worry Darling while dismissing universal favorites.
- Politics of the Frame: He believes the way a filmmaker treats their characters is a direct reflection of their morality. If he thinks a director is being "cruel" to a character, the movie is a failure to him, regardless of how well-made it is.
The Front Row and the "Short" Review
Since 2005, Brody has been the movie listings editor for the magazine. This is where he does his most consistent work, often in those tiny, 200-word blurbs. But he also runs The Front Row blog. In an era where most outlets are killing off traditional reviews for "explainers" or "ranked lists," Brody has remained a staunch defender of the review as a literary form.
He actually got into a bit of a public spat about this recently, defending the "traditional review" against a shift toward video essays and listicles. He’s a bit of a dinosaur in that regard, but a very vocal one. In 2014, the French government actually made him a Chevalier of the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. Why? Because he did more than almost anyone else to keep French New Wave cinema alive in the American consciousness.
What the critics say about the critic
Is he a genius or just a snob? Depends on who you ask on Reddit. Some people find his writing "messy" and "hard to follow." They think he over-intellectualizes things that aren't there. For instance, he famously considers Wes Anderson one of the most "political" filmmakers working today. Most people just see pretty colors and symmetry, but Brody sees a deep meditation on historical trauma.
Others think he’s the only critic worth reading precisely because he doesn't follow the crowd. In a world of Rotten Tomatoes scores where every review sounds the same, Brody is undeniably himself. He has "clarity of thought that is steel-sharp," even if his conclusions feel like they're coming from another planet.
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Real-world impact of Brody’s "Canon"
He doesn't just review new movies; he reconstructs the history of cinema. His annual "Best of" lists are legendary for including obscure documentaries and foreign films that nobody else noticed. He’s helped shine a light on directors like:
- Claude Lanzmann: The director of Shoah.
- Samuel Fuller: The master of the gritty B-movie.
- Miranda July: Whose film The Future is a perenial Brody favorite.
Navigating the Brody-verse: Actionable Tips
If you’re trying to broaden your film horizons, reading Brody is a great start—if you know how to do it. Don't go to him for a "should I see this?" recommendation. Go to him to see what you missed while watching.
Watch movies "backwards" occasionally. Brody has mentioned he likes to re-examine films by focusing on the ending or specific technical flourishes rather than just the plot. It changes how you see the structure.
Look for the "unconformities." This is a term used to describe his 20+ hour video project about cinema history. Look for the weird, the broken, and the "unpolished" in movies. That’s where the art usually hides.
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Don't take the "contrarian" tag too seriously. Usually, when Brody likes something "bad," it’s because he sees a spark of formal invention that the "good" movies are too scared to try. Read his review of The Wolf of Wall Street or Chi-Raq to see how he defends big, messy, ambitious swings.
Brody isn't trying to be your friend or a consumer guide. He’s a historian who happens to be living in the present. Whether you love him or hate him, the man knows how to look at a screen.
To truly understand his perspective, start by reading his 2008 biography of Godard or digging through his "The Front Row" archives for his takes on 1950s B-movies. Comparing his niche favorites to modern blockbusters is the fastest way to sharpen your own critical eye.