Believe it or not, Pulitzer Prize-winning New Yorker film critic Justin Chang did not see a Star Wars film until he was enrolled at George Lucas’s alma mater. He was disinterested in blockbuster successes as a kid, feeling “out of step” with much of pop culture. Being a 1980s boy who did not watch a blanketed extraterrestrial ride a bicycle opened up far more brain space for all types of stories, and alternate forms of narrative thinking.
Chang turned his attention to novels, where his personal favorite — which he “read to death” — was Norton Juster’s 1961 classic The Phantom Tollbooth (the story of an aimless boy who finds purpose through a love for learning). Chang thrilled to Juster’s writing, chock full of word wizardry and punnery at its finest. Chang’s own writing lives up to the Juster humor high bar — as his former Los Angeles Times colleague and fellow critic Glenn Whipp put it, “Justin elevates puns into an artform.” Chang’s appetite for reading buoyed his love for language, culminating in a third-grade teacher validating his talent on the page. As Chang remembers it, his elementary writing was not born of some “great effort,” but spilled over from his love for words and appreciation for language. Even though Chang was ribbed by other kids for “reading the dictionary” due to his vast vocabulary (to set the record straight — he never did read that specific tome, but would be open to it), he looks back on the early days of his writing fondly.
“Even though I was quite shy, I discovered that sometimes I liked speaking publicly,” he says, crediting writing as a tool that helped him navigate out of his introversion. He also credits his sister for encouraging him to be brave enough to step into the spotlight, a lifelong champion of him and his voice.
As Chang’s writing talent grew through adolescence, a new interest in film percolated, turning his narratively inclined head towards movies for the first time. To his surprise and delight, his engineer father had an appreciation for classic Hollywood and its megawatt stars in particular (the formidable Barbara Stanwyck was a favorite). This connected father and son on a path of cinematic discovery, and cultivated an entrenched sense of an outsider’s approach to cinephilia within Chang’s psyche. During this teenage period Chang religiously read film criticism, naming A.O. Scott, Manohla Dargis, and Kenneth Turan as key favorites. Turan worked for the Los Angeles Times and was a fixture in many southern California households (mine included), the first light bulb you turned on to peer into the room of an upcoming filmic experience.
After treasuring his writing for years, Chang became Turan’s student at USC in an undergrad film criticism course. To bring this relationship into the pantheons of full-circularity, Chang eventually became Turan’s film criticism compatriot at the Los Angeles Times and now teaches that very same course at USC. In 2020 Chang wrote a sendoff to Turan after his retirement. “They say you should never meet your heroes. They’re wrong. I’m grateful not only to have met one of mine, but also to have called him my teacher, colleague and friend.” I challenge you to read his ‘salute’ without crying.
While at USC, Chang pursued film criticism purposefully, landing an internship at Hollywood rag Variety a week post his 2004 graduation. That internship turned into a paid position as an editor and part-time critic, setting him on the course to become head film critic at the magazine. During his time at Variety, Chang wrote countless reviews for a wide selection of films ranging in style, budget and quality. He credits that period for opening and expanding his appreciation for many disparate genres, pushing him to grow and stretch his critical thinking. I ask you to find a critic who would bring as much care and wisdom to a film like Cars 2, the oft overlooked Pixar sequel. Chang writes, “[the] pic possesses a certain lowbrow streak entirely consistent with its vroom-vroom milieu, handily demonstrating that the often-aggravating staples of so much kid-friendly animation — nonstop banter, ethnic accents, goofy wordplay (mileage may vary), even bathroom humor — can be executed with wit and class.” How do you like them onomatopoetic apples?
After working at Variety for twelve years Chang moved to the Los Angeles Times, where he eventually won a Pulitzer Prize for his “richly evocative and genre spanning film criticism” in 2024. Chang used his larger platform to advocate for films that may otherwise go unnoticed in the public sphere.
“Justin is really passionate about world cinema, and is probably the best advocate for world cinema writing today,” Whipp says.
In 2018, Chang agonized over his review of Zama, an Argentinian film he loved from director Lucrecia Martel. The story takes place in the 18th century and follows a weary Spanish magistrate (the eponymous Zama) as he desperately seeks to maneuver his way into the higher echelons of colonial power. In describing Martel’s evocative and sometimes enigmatic filmmaking Chang writes, “But give yourself some time to adjust and Martel’s style, at once immersive and disorienting, starts to feel like a corrective, a clearer way of seeing and hearing. The physical world here is not some abstract commodity; it is fiercely, palpably present, and utterly indifferent to the whims of men arrogant enough to think they can tame it into submission.” Chang is both girding LA Times readers for a cinematic challenge while simultaneously persuading them that the juice is well worth the squeeze.
While at the Times, Chang sometimes came under fire for his less popular takes. After the Best Picture Oscar went to Everything Everywhere All at Once in 2023, he wrote a piece entitled “The Oscars Best Picture Might Seem Radical. But it’s as Traditional as They Come.” The article is an extraordinary piece of writing, with Chang opening up the hood on his multifaceted and conflicted response to the film. After several viewings, his original ambiguity towards the movie curdled into something more antagonistic. “Funnily enough, though “Everything Everywhere” doesn’t strike me as remotely the best movie of the year, it has very much been the movie of my year — the one that, in all manner of annoying, bracing, culturally and aesthetically revealing ways, has simply refused to leave me alone.” Never has an articulation of a dogged piece of media demanding your personal affection been more accurately described. Chang’s capacity to write openly and without ego about his multivariant thoughts (including the fact that he once met and personally admired the “brilliant” co-director Daniel Kwan and wanted to “embrace” his movies) creates a welcoming third space (multiverse?) within the world of critical discourse where one is allowed — nay, encouraged— to actively sit with one’s thoughts.
Chang has now been at his post at The New Yorker for nearly two years, where he has had that ultimate writerly “luxury” for space and deep thought. When I commented on how prolific his New Yorker tenure has been, Chang was surprised, unable to shirk the workaholic mentality that he is not writing enough (I assure you, he is). The pace is indeed slower at the New Yorker, but the writing is that much more scrutinized. As Chang himself put it, “every step of my career feels like I am learning how to write all over again.” But even with all the pressure, Chang still enjoys the writing, even looks forward to it — although his process looks different these days.
“Writing is something I do sitting on the couch with my kids falling all over me,” he says. Sometimes, writing is something he absconds to after his family has tucked in for the night. It is both a relief and a weight, a muscle he constantly strengthens and flexes. It’s always with him, and that’s just the way he likes it.
With a humorous whimsy and dedication to thought, Chang has used his childhood dream of becoming a writer as fuel to become one of the very best of them. And as for that outsider mentality? The rebel streak has not completely abated. This past Halloween, when asked to put on a spooky film for his nine-year-old daughter, Chang resisted the classics. One can only imagine his daughter is the only kid in her class who now lists the 1992 cult classic Death Becomes Her as a favorite. Let the maverick tradition fight on.