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John Serba Cements His Savior Status in “Ender’s Game”

In response to John Serba’s 769‑word review of Ender’s Game on

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God bless John Serba. The man is a poet and gentleman; a scholar and a savior of his industry. Even his Twitter pic looks like a sepia-tinged Jesus looking heavenward (perhaps looking for inspiration on his next piece).

One thing is certain: Serba is doing God’s work in “‘Ender’s Game’ review: Harrison Ford grumbles and simmers through stilted sci-fi story,” an uproariously witty piece that will, from the first word, charm the pants right off you.

Many critics manage to be witty (but not this witty) and many critics manage to be insightful (not this insightful), but few do both simultaneously with such effortless panache.

The Enlightened One goes to the mount and steals glorious fire from the film gods, bringing it to the mortals in the form of cutting criticism and stunning prose.

He is an absolute master of tone. He brings balance to the farce, sustaining it throughout the work without once straining a metaphor, stretching a joke too far, or letting the witticisms trump the analysis.

In a word, this is a clinic in critique and Serba’s transcendent work here is an ideal toward which other critics should strive.

Stop what you’re doing and read this yesterday.    

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