Suppose you are a self-obsessed person so certain of your own genius that you have to shit on anyone or anything that doesn't fall within the small subset of culture that you consider worthy at that particular moment. Delighted by your own thoughts and witticisms without concern for the world at large, you might consider peddling smugness and undergrad vocabulary as criticism rather than attempting to connect in any meaningful or amusing way to the movies that you are assigned to review or the reader who will eventually stumble onto your convoluted sentences. A good review, in your estimation, is one that makes you feel sufficiently superior to the film at hand and the idiots who have the audacity to be anyone other than you. Calum Marsh owes a lot to this tradition of criticism and it's easy to imagine many equally pretentious lost souls and douchebags gravitating towards the brand of smug pseudo-intellectualism he provides. The problem, of course, is that this style of writing is easily reproduced because it is nothing but posturing in the first place (even in high school). I Origins is not a good film. He was right to dismiss it. However, the irony is that Calum's writing is just as flawed and empty as the film he attacked.