The analysis of art is as old and important as art itself. Since the first sweaty Homo sapiens fingerpainted on a cave wall, there have been other cavepeople asking, “But Grug, what is it trying to say?”

Trying to determine the quality of art is an impossible task, and as with most impossible tasks, a whole field of academia exists to try anyway. Philosophy grapples with questions like “What is real?” and “How do we know right from wrong?” Film theorists are more concerned with a deeper problem: “How many stars will I give it on Letterboxd?”

Daily headlines, sent straight to your inbox.

Subscribe to our newsletter to keep up with the latest at and around USC.

To me, half the fun of consuming art is playing art theorist with the work I love. Why this movie? Why that song? Why do I keep watching “Twilight” (2008) even though I know it’s problematic? Dividing a movie into scenes and sinking my teeth into the details brings me closer to the artist. Making art is a vulnerable action, prone to misinterpretation, so it is important to analyze and understand what the artist wants the observer to feel. Out of respect to the filmmakers behind them, I pick apart the frames of Edward’s glistening skin so that I know precisely what the artist intended when they made him sparkle.

Beyond respect for the artist, I think there is something even more beautiful at the heart of art critique. If art could be reduced to a description, I could explain to you the cinematography of “Trainspotting” (1996), a vision of what happened on screen would pop into your head, and there wouldn’t be a reason for us to watch it together.

Fortunately, that is not what consuming art is like. Experiencing art is like a dream, it is notoriously difficult to describe. However, if you and I watch the same movie, we are sharing that dream with each other. If we get together afterward and talk about it, we might be able to walk away with a few valid conclusions. This is what I love most about analysis, the way that it brings people together for one of life’s greatest joys: consuming art.

And yet, there is a word that is often leveled at people who find analysis as fun as I do: Pretentious.

Pretentious, according to dictionaries, describes a person who is “putting on airs” or pretending to be more important, learned or cultured than they are. This definition is totally fine by me. If someone hasn’t bothered to learn about the building blocks of screenwriting but decides that “Mean Girls” (2004) is an objectively bad movie, they should be called pretentious and promptly ignored. However, that is not how this word is exclusively used.

Now, the mere act of analysis is somehow evidence of pretentiousness. Even if the word “pretentious” isn’t used, other less formal synonyms get thrown in, “film bro” being a pretty popular one. If your review of a movie goes deeper than “good” or “cool,” there is a chance this label will be attached to you. You are cast as an ivory tower critic, gawking at the common folk for simply observing while you perceive quality.

I hate this deeply. Are there valid and invalid ways to analyze? Absolutely! Trying to intellectualize “Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse” is probably not the best way to understand the series (though I’d love to read a thesis paper doing its best) and a Rotten Tomatoes score is not the ideal way to understand the value of “Chungking Express” (1994).

However, the process of analysis itself should never be discouraged. Analysis is evidence of passion, of loving something so much that it is simply not enough to keep that love to oneself. When a movie is good, you should be encouraged to talk about it, break it apart and understand why you love it. Fear of being considered “pretentious” for wanting to know why the art affected you the way it did is a fear that should not exist.

Write that opinion blog. Make that video essay. Fall in love with the movies you watch, and if someone else thinks you’re strange for it, who cares! You are interfacing with art, an experience beyond words, and trying to use words to explain it. That should be celebrated, whether you’re talking about “The Godfather” (1972) or “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” (2018). Be passionate. Be analytic. Be pretentious.