While the critiques of films, both in popular journalism and more learned publications devoted purely to such pursuits, may at times seem scathing and unforgiving, the reader should not persecute the reviewer. Rather, as Bordwell points out, the written works analyzing films fall under scrutiny of their own. In the competitive environment of film interpretation, success depends upon the very same circumstances as it does in the realm of film; favorable reception by the audience makes or breaks a review, a publication, even a school of thought or theory. To this end, interpretation indeed takes on many rhetorical aspects. Not only does the critic need to persuade the audience of his point, but he needs to do so in a desirable manner. To achieve this goal, an interpretation must borrow many of the methods of filmmaking. Artistic language, deference to (and use of) an authority, and utilization of widely held beliefs all come into play in the rhetoric of interpretation. In this realm, to convince the audience of oneís point is to succeed, and to succeed is to "survive".

As competition between critics has grown in the past few decades, much has been borrowed from the well tested world of literature. Not only have film interpreters learned from and built upon the methods used in reviews of literature, but they have also taken lessons from the literature itself. "Flowery" language, while often dismissed within the more technical circles, holds an appeal for its readers. Use of puns and overly elaborate descriptions add a readability to prose that might otherwise prove unbearable. Various other intricacies of language exhibit the critics command of the written word, subconsciously adding credence to his argument. One of the most popular of these innovations involves the parameters of space within a review. In a more elaborate explanation, or, if space permitted, many more aspects of the written review could be explored.

While examples from within the reviewed work always contribute powerful evidence to an argument, there is perhaps no more powerful method for convincing readers of one's point than dropping names. Throwing around names like Freud, Kant, Levi-Strauss and others lend an automatic air of importance and authority to any statement. Use of the well-established theories thereof also provides a pulpit from which to declare oneís findings. In fact, the subtlety of referencing important intellectuals with only their accomplishments often benefits the strength of the argument by appealing to the subconscious intelligence of the reader. Perhaps one can find no greater authority on a film and its meanings than its creator. In this age of mass communication, it is easy to obtain statements from directors concerning their films, though this is not always to the benefit of the interpreter. Directors such as Spielberg are quick to explain such works as Schindler's List, and are often believed and quoted without question; however, in the case of Leni Riefenstahl, the director claims no "meaning" exists in such works as Triumph des Willens. This rather implausible assertion does not aid interpretation.

Just as filmmakers play on both implicit and symptomatic meanings, so do the intepreters themselves. Passing references to or outright statement of commonly held beliefs support the point that the reviewer sets out to prove. This can be as simple as comparing two films (an older, more well-known film such as The Longest Day or The Bridge on the River Kwai and a newer, less familiar work such as Saving Private Ryan or The Thin Red Line), or as complex as accessing the subconscious of the reader as a director does to his viewer.

Many subtleties exist in the rhetoric of interpretation, each doing its part to add to or detract from the "meaning" of the review or critique. Aspects as simple as location (New York or London as opposed to Bora Bora or Senegal) add immediate credence to an interpretation thanks to humansí subconscious associations with such places. In some ways, interpretation of film is as much art as is filmmaking itself. To convince one's audience, one must be appealing in some way, whether through language, authority, the subconscious, or, in a best case scenario, a combination of all three. One can then propagate one's beliefs, increasing the chance that the audience will again be convinced, and, therefore, that the rhetoric of interpretation will succeed.

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