Austin’s Movie Rating System
I’m a pretty hardcore movie fan — as in, see a movie in a theater every weekend for 20+ years hardcore — and as a hardcore movie fan, I spend a lot of time reading reviews of films so that I have a better understanding of the art I consume. I like knowing where a movie fits into a broader conversation: what it’s responding to, what it’s borrowing from, what it’s doing well, and where it stumbles. As a result, I’ve read an enormous number of reviews over the years, from professional critics to Letterboxd diarists (don’t get me started on performative Letterboxd comedy reviews) to half-angry Reddit threads, and I’ve developed some strong opinions about the way we talk about movies.
Namely, I think the traditional movie review — and really, the entire review-and-score system — is fundamentally broken.
Art is complicated. It’s subjective in ways that are difficult to pin down and frankly contradictory, and our relationship to art is rarely linear. Reducing something as messy and human as a movie to a single metric — whether that’s a star rating, a numerical score, or a letter grade — flattens the experience in a way that communicates very little. It gives the illusion of clarity without actually offering functional, usable information.
Over the years I’ve seen films that were impeccably made: technically flawless, beautifully acted, carefully written, deeply considered. I admired them. I respected them. I never want to watch them again. I’ve also seen films that are, by most reasonable standards, a bit shit — clumsy, messy, and often stupid — but that I would happily put on again at almost any time. They’re fun art. They scratch a ‘fun movie’ itch.
But, like, what do you do with that? How do you convey those two experiences using a single linear scale? If one movie is a punishing but masterful artistic achievement, and another is a dumb joy that I’d rewatch on a whim, which one is the ‘better’ movie? Are they both three-star movies? Is the excellent-but-miserable one a four-star film because of its craft, even though I’d rather never sit through it again? Does the rewatchable hot mess deserve a low score simply because it is technically flawed, even if it delivers something I actually value as a viewer?
The more I thought about it, the more it became clear that we’re trying to force two very different questions into a single answer. Most review systems implicitly ask for one definitive ‘score’ when there are really two separate things we’re responding to:
How well is this movie made?
What was it like to experience this movie?
Those are related questions, but they are not the same question… and pretending they are is where a lot of garbage discourse comes from.
Over the last few years, I’ve been workshopping an alternative approach for my own use, one that separates those ideas instead of collapsing them. It doesn’t have a name yet, but the concept is simple: a two-variable movie rating system expressed as a range from A1 all the way down to F5, designed to communicate both the objective quality of the film and my subjective experience of watching it.
The first variable is a traditional letter grade, modeled loosely after academic grading. The scale runs A, B, C, D, and F, with A representing the highest level of filmmaking craftsmanship and F representing the lowest. This grade is meant to assess the movie as an actual constructed piece of art, not my emotional response to it.
An A-level film, in this sense, is one that demonstrates a high degree of competence and intentionality across the whole production: strong performances, thoughtful direction, solid production design, effective editing, coherent storytelling, and sound technical execution. It doesn’t mean the movie is perfect or that I loved it; it means it was made with care, skill, and a clear artistic vision.
At the other end of the spectrum, an F represents a total failure of craft: weak performances, sloppy filmmaking, incoherent storytelling, poor production values, or a general sense that the movie doesn’t understand what it’s trying to do. Most films, of course, land somewhere in between, and the letter grade is meant to reflect that continuum as honestly as possible.
The second variable is a number from one to five, representing my personal experience of watching the movie — specifically, the degree of enjoyment or engagement I felt, and how likely I am to want to rewatch it.
A rating of 1 indicates a film I found genuinely pleasurable to experience, one I would happily revisit with a friend, or put on to watch on some slow Sunday afternoon. This doesn’t mean the movie is light, happy, or even fun in a conventional sense; it means that, as a viewer, I found the experience rewarding enough that I would seek it out again.
A rating of 5, on the other hand, represents a movie I would not willingly reengage with. That doesn’t mean it’s bad. Some of the greatest films ever made would land here for me — not because they failed, but because they are emotionally exhausting, bleak, or otherwise difficult in ways that make repeat viewings undesirable. The number reflects my relationship to the experience, not a moral judgment on the film itself.
The key point is that these two variables are independent. A movie can be an A5: an extraordinary piece of filmmaking that I respect deeply and never want to watch again. It can also be an F1: a deeply flawed film that nonetheless brings me immense joy. Both of those ratings communicate something useful in a way that a single star count simply can’t.
This system isn’t about pretending subjectivity can be eliminated or that art can be neatly categorized. The goal is simply to be more honest about what I’m responding to when I talk about a movie. Craft matters. Experience matters. They just don’t always move in the same direction, and our reviews should be able to acknowledge that without tying themselves in knots.
If this system makes sense, I’d encourage you to adopt it for yourself. I find it’s immensely helpful in both recommending and talking about movies in a way that encompasses the whole experience of why we watch, and love, movies. If there’s something I’ve overlooked, or you have a way to fine-tune the rating even more, I’d be happy to hear it — get in my inbox.
See you at the movies!