How I Grade Films
What a 10 means on this site, what a 5 is for, and why the middle is crowded on purpose.
The numbers on the movies page and in the ratings catalog are personal IMDb scores from 1 to 10. They are not a claim about craft in the abstract, and they are not a prediction of what you will like. They are a private language made public so the ranking means something when you sort it.
This essay is only about the ten-point grades attached to titles I have logged.
The ladder
| Score | Label |
|---|---|
| 10 | Treasure |
| 9 | Prize worthy |
| 8 | Cherish |
| 7 | Good |
| 6 | Like |
| 5 | Painfully mediocre |
| 4 | Subpar |
| 3 | Bad |
| 2 | Terrible |
| 1 | Abysmal (So Bad, It Might Be Funny) |
The labels matter more than the integers. When I hesitate between two scores, I ask which word I am willing to defend out loud.
What the distribution looks like
Here is every film I have rated on that ladder — Movie and TV Movie titles from the export, counted by personal score:
The pile sits where the prose claimed it would: 6–8 is the bulk of the watched life. Tens are scarce on purpose. Ones and twos exist, but they are not the point of keeping a list.
The top
10 — Treasure. Reserved. A film I would protect in a fire of taste: something I return to, recommend with my name on it, and do not shrug about. If the list of tens ever gets long, the word has failed.
9 — Prize worthy. Near-treasure. I would put it on a shortlist, argue for it in a room of stubborn people, and feel a little sting if someone dismisses it without watching. Not quite sacred; still special.
8 — Cherish. A film I am fond of in a durable way. I seek it out again, quote it, and notice when people have not seen it. The difference from a 9 is less about quality spikes and more about how tightly I hold it.
The workable middle
7 — Good. Succeeds at what it is doing. I am glad I watched it. I might not reorganize an evening around a rewatch, but I will not pretend it was merely fine.
6 — Like. Pleasant, competent, worth the time. The default “yes” when someone asks if it was okay. Above average for what reaches a screen; not a hill I die on.
Most of the catalog lives in 6–8. That is deliberate. A scale that spreads every film evenly from 1 to 10 is a vanity of precision. Most films I finish are somewhere between likeable and cherishable. The interesting work is deciding which side of “good” they sit on.
The floor of the middle
5 — Painfully mediocre. The awkward grade. Not bad enough to hate, not good enough to recommend. The pain is the waste: time spent waiting for a film that never becomes anything. I use 5 when “fine” would be a lie and “bad” would be unkind to the craft still visible on screen.
The bottom
4 — Subpar. Misses. I can name what went wrong without working hard. Below what I expect from a finished release.
3 — Bad. Actively unpleasant or broken in ways that matter. I would steer someone away.
2 — Terrible. Hard to defend as a use of anyone’s evening. Mistakes stack; patience runs out.
1 — Abysmal. Bottom of the well. Reserved for films that feel like a mistake to have started. If I reach for a 1, something went wrong beyond ordinary failure.
What the number is not
It is not IMDb’s average. It is not Rotten Tomatoes. It is not a weighted blend of cinematography, acting, and score with a spreadsheet behind it.
It is closer to: how strongly do I want this to stay in my life? Treasure and abysmal are rare. Like and good are common. Painfully mediocre is the honest middle when honesty is uncomfortable.
If a title sits at 8 on the catalog and a written review sounds cooler than that, believe the grade for ranking and the review for the argument. One sorts a list. The other explains a night.