There has been a cultural downgrade to our collective IQ when it comes to media literacy—and I think there are a lot of reasons for it.

It's never more apparent than when a new nerd movie or show comes out, and suddenly you've got people shouting about "plot holes" and "ret-cons", not really knowing what either of those things are. These folks take a combative stance against any media, confusing "critical thinking" with a requirement to just be critical.

Instead of engaging with the intent of a piece, they seek out perceived inconsistencies and sour further and further against a piece of art, not waiting for answers to be provided. Even worse, the worst of these folks don't even watch the shows; instead they watch YouTube videos where online fan "critics" catalog these "issues" with the narrative for regurgitation. (Curiously, there's never a correction when a later installment clears up what was originally thought to be a hole.)

This seems to happen the most with regard to legacy series. Star Trek shows have been suffering from this lately; Marvel and DC movies get their share of it. But I haven't recently seen a level of poor media literacy and disingenuous readings of something to compare with Star Wars: The Acolyte. The internet hasn't been that lousy with bad takes about a work since The Last Jedi.

Created by Leslye Headland (of Russian Doll fame), The Acolyte is set almost 100 years prior to The Phantom Menace, and shows the beginning of the decay that rots the Jedi as they head to their eventual destruction in Revenge of the Sith. The show revolves around a mystery where Jedi are being targeted and killed by an unknown Force-wielder, and the third episode of the show brought us back 16 years further to show the origins of this revenge plot.

Unfortunately, this episode caused some folks to lose their minds. Film Threat declared this "the death of Star Wars" and even held a poorly-attended online funeral for the franchise, declaring its death as the day George Lucas appointed Kathleen Kennedy his successor. The Acolyte launched dozens of YouTube videos from accounts with hundreds of thousands of subscribers, documenting everything they couldn't make sense of. It didn't matter that this episode was the third of eight, and very clearly raising more questions than it answered. Instead of patience, they tried burning the place down.

It seems as though many people don't allow themselves to be engaged by a narrative. They want to have their hands held and have everything spoon-fed to them. Everything has to make sense the second it appears on screen, or else it's a plot hole. But a plot hole is when a car is destroyed in Scene 5 and arrives back in Scene 12 with no explanation or opportunity for repair, not your inability to understand a character's actions before a story's end.

Unfortunately, their method is the worst possible way to approach storytelling—especially if that storytelling is intended to be a mystery whose layers need to be peeled back. In my opinion, both The Last Jedi and The Acolyte take George Lucas-like inspiration from Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece Rashomon, which shows stories from different viewpoints and allows the audience to make up their mind about what the truth is. Unfortunately, fans of franchise material can sometimes get too caught up on what is "TRUE" in all-caps. They want to make sure the information they're getting is fit for a wiki. Shades of gray and differing perspectives are a little harder to reconcile, and it makes them anxious.

Sadly, this is nothing new. Fans have been doing this since The Empire Strikes Back "ruined" Obi-Wan Kenobi by having Vader make a liar out of him. It didn't matter that Return of the Jedi offered Luke (and us) his reasoning for it.

My advice is to stop treating consumption of art as a competitive sport. You don't have to score points against a movie or show. If it makes you feel something, great; if it doesn't, that's also fine. The issue is when you try to attack a piece without actually trying to understand it, or meet it on the terms of the author's intent. It's like going into a period piece set in the 18th century, and complaining about the lack of cell phones.

Stop watching YouTube videos of people tearing down media. Seek out criticism that helps you understand it better, and helps you empathize the characters and stories on the screen. Roger Ebert was the best at this. City Weekly's Scott Renshaw is pretty good at it, too. Good critics help contextualize art and add meaning to it, not tear it down.

Do better.
Pay attention.
Have patience, and don't expect every answer immediately.
It's good advice for watching shows—but maybe better advice for life.
And after all, isn't that what art is for: to help us all live better lives?