When you get drunk and go off on a vicious anti-Semitic rant after getting pulled over by the cops, I suppose it's only natural that film critics start factoring that sort of behavior into their reviews:

In any discussion of "Apocalypto," which deals with the twilight of Mayan civilization, a delicate distinction must be made. It would be inappropriate and probably inaccurate for any critic to pronounce on the mental health of a filmmaker based on his movie. Yet no description of "Apocalypto" can even begin, much less be complete, without noting -- say, in a colloquial, nonclinical, anecdotal sort of way -- that it seems like something made by a crazy person. It's unrelenting, a succession of blood-soaked disaster, an artfully designed parade of cruelty that would make the Marquis de Sade get up and say, "Enough already."