In Defense of Hot Frosty
Why I hesitate to rate movies on Letterboxd (and books on Goodreads)
Last week, I watched Hot Frosty. Yes, the movie about Ted from Schitt’s Creek as a ripped snowman who comes to life from a magic scarf and falls in love with Gretchen from Mean Girls.
This may not come as a surprise, but you’ve got to suspend your disbelief with this one. Jack, the ripped snowman, comes alive with an inconsistent knowledge of the world in a way that evokes less Edward Scissorhands, more Bianca from Lars and the Real Girl if we could see what was going on in Lars’s mind. (God, I’m due for a rewatch of both of those movies.) Jack “melts” in warm weather, but it’s a bit unclear as to how warm is too warm and how (spoiler!) a kiss can turn him human. And when the entire small town discovers together that he a snowman, their belief is justified with the simple exclamation: “It’s Christmas!”
Honestly, as the kids say, “werk.” Christmas magic is enough.
So, yeah. It was cheesy. It was silly. But you know what? I laughed. I went “aww.” I sat down with my in-laws and didn’t talk about politics for 90 minutes. And isn’t that a miracle in itself? Overall, I had a positive experience watching the movie. Seeing that the screenwriter acknowledges (multiple times, in his Letterboxd review) that the concept it very silly, I feel like he accomplished what he set out to do.
I’m a frequent Letterboxd user, so before the movie even ended I went straight to the app to read the raucous reviews and snarky comments.
But then I asked myself, how many stars am I giving this one?
As I pondered my answer, I asked myself if I should use Letterboxd like I use Goodreads: as a place to review media, but not rate it. I only give star ratings on Goodreads for five-star books. And here’s why.
What Are We Judging This On Anyway?
Listen, Hot Frosty isn’t winning an Oscar. But you know what probably won’t, either? Love Lies Bleeding, which in my mind, was a five-star film. I sure hope Demi Moore will win an Oscar for her work in The Substance, but since horror is not taken seriously by the Academy, I’m not holding my breath.
Why should a movie (or a book) be completely serious to be considered a five-star experience anyway?
I’d much rather rate a film on whether the film set out to achieve what it meant to achieve.
Did The Substance achieve what it set out to achieve? Absolutely.
Did Hot Frosty? I believe so.
Did Madame Web? The Marvel movie starring Dakota Johnson that is essentially a bad Pepsi ad set in 2003? I…no, it couldn’t have accomplished what it set out to do, right? It had an $100 million budget. It’s an objectively bad movie. I gave it one and a half stars. And yet…I had a wonderful time watching it. I would watch it again, albeit with my phone in my hand.
I may never watch The Substance again because it was so successful at setting out what it achieved to do. Will I watch Hot Frosty again? You’ll just have to follow my Substack for the rest of my life to find out. (I promise I will tell you if I watch Hot Frosty again, only because I am a woman of my word.)
I could set out to give star ratings solely based on this criterion. But I’m just one Letterboxd user. How do I communicate to everyone on Letterboxd, or Goodreads, or Yelp, that this is why I choose to give one, three, or five stars to something? Should we accept a “bad” or “cheesy” or “silly” piece of art or experience because that’s what the artist set out to make?
I don’t know!
My Mood Is Not In the Author’s Control
I wish I had an answer on how to approach creating and experiencing art. In November 2024, art feels more important than ever. Without going too far into it, this month was whirlwind of highs and lows.
And from the lows, I’ve needed an escape. A story that requires me to suspend my disbelief. (I did not intend to get vulnerable in a blog post about Hot Frosty, but screw it.) I’m a very intentionally happy person. And that is because I’m not a very naturally happy person. If I’m not actively working to take care of my mental health through exercise and sleep, I can take a nose dive into feeling awful pretty easily. I’ve read books like Learned Optimism to learn optimism. And this works. (I will be running this by my fiancee to confirm this.) I actively (desperately) search for positivity and try to hold onto positive feelings and uplift my mental health. I go out of my way to find something funny, or joyous, or wholesome in every experience I have.
So when a Madame Web comes along, I embrace the “negative” aspects of the film. The script is bad and Dakota Johnson gives the lines with a delivery flatter than my adolescent chest! Amazing! I love a “so bad it’s good” film because heck, at least I’m having a fun time.
Does that mean I should have given it a higher rating than the 1 1/2 stars I gave it? Does it deserve a higher rating because it brought me joy?
I don’t know!
And I’ll probably have a different answer for you in a week after I see Wicked or in a month after I see Babygirl. (If you are seeing Babygirl in theaters on Christmas Day, congratulations on making one of the boldest decisions one can make in the Year of Our Lord 2024. I salute you!)
How we experience art in the moment feels more important than how we rate it, yet our ratings are more permanent and easier to communicate. For that reason, I don’t rate books on Goodreads. And why I might do the same with Letterboxd.
Selfishly, Please Don’t Tell Me If You Hate My Book
Okay, yes, this is also personal. I stopped giving star ratings on Goodreads because I want to follow the Golden Rule. This year, I queried what I can now call my debut novel. As I attended conferences and connected with authors and explored books published by indie authors and small presses, I started thinking about where my reviews go. Colleen Hoover probably won’t see my one-star rating of Verity, but I know a lot of authors who will see what I rate their books. Hot Frosty’s writer is clearly active on Letterboxd. It’s all fun and games to poke fun at a silly movie until you remember that an actual person put a heck of a lot of work into writing that script, playing that part, or editing that film.
My book is coming out in August (have you pre-ordered it yet?) and I’ve already deleted the Goodreads app from my phone for this reason. I hope that my book reaches people beyond my friends and family, and I know many people will think it’s funny, it’s sweet, and it can kickstart some fun discussions at their book club. But it’s not for everyone, as intended. Not everyone will give it five stars. I’m sure I will hear some very valid unsolicited critiques of the book, and that’s fine for the most part. But I think there are valid and invalid reasons to give a book one or two stars, and readers of my book may use both to rate my book.
That’s okay. Who are any of us to choose how another person reviews or critiques art? I can’t ask readers to rate my book based on any one criterion. All I can do is let the readers talk amongst themselves.
So What’s a Five-Star Movie or Book?
Well, you’re going to have to wait until I post my 2024 wrap-up. I’ll post my favorite movies, favorite books, and favorite moments. I’m trying to stick with posting twice a month, so maybe subscribe to my Substack and you won’t get that many emails from me?