This sense of validated identity is best enjoyed in the comfort of a group of like minded peers, such as the R(otten)T(omatoes) amateur critics, who have all invested heavily in the same shared values and are bonded in the same love of fantasies. A bit like animators, really.

They are likely to reject anything that opposes their shared group ideals, even if it’s (from an outsider’s point of view) a trivial criticism, because the importance of subscribing to the group’s values overrides any individual’s personally held opinions.

We as film artists must recognise ourselves as a merry band of fantasists too, for we are if anything even more dependent on the fantasies of film, because we need to make our living by creating and dramatising the fantasies.

The interesting dynamic lies in the difference between the two groups. One bunch (Group A) creates the fantasies, and the other lot (Group B) consumes them. I’d suggest that the two groups will forever have wildly different agendas, and you shouldn’t be surprised, really.

We earn money from peddling fantasy, while fanboys have to pay money to consume our products.

In the end, the success of any film depends on its acceptance by the audience, and we have to have a deep enough understanding of the audience’s needs to supply a satisfactory experience that will keep them happy and us rich… (Laughter) OK: Paid.

Animated films are mostly targeted at an audience of people wanting to experience a simple escapist fantasy that will transport them away from the complexities of life, and reconnect them to the mythological core of our culture.

The RT fanboys reflect and represent the audience’s desire for incontrovertible simplicities, and their comments and pack attacks aren’t meant for our ears or eyes at all.

They’re just spreading the group glue.

OK, Now throw tomatoes at me!

Sputnik

Sputnik