…or much of anything at all in the theater last year or this year, for that matter? (God, I know I saw something other than Cloverfield. I must have.)
This guy rants about how nobody saw these movies because people are saps who just want happy, happy, joy, joy all the time. I tend to agree in general. I like dark movies. I like depressing movies.
But I’m generally totally disinterested in movies like Juno, for the same reason I don’t read Daniel Clowes’ comics: I just don’t care about those kinds of stories. I don’t care about quirky teen moms. There’s no way that story’s going to resonate with me. Sorry. I’m sure it was funny. I’m sure you found it enchanting. Put on some Sufjan Stevens and tell your friends all about it. Maybe you’re too easily enchanted.
Sometimes it’s a beef with the way the story’s told, or who’s telling it: I absolutely despise the work of Paul Thomas Anderson. (Or P. Thomas Anderson, or P.T. Anderson, or whatever pretentious way he’s billing himself these days. How about just P. Thomas A. next time, big guy?) Boogie Nights was a pile of shit, and Punch-Drunk Love was one of the worst things I’ve ever seen committed to film. He’s only second to Todd Haynes on the list of people I wish worked on a garbage scow instead of making movies. He’s the reason I didn’t see There Will Be Blood.
And sometimes, I just don’t want to see depressing shit happening to people I’d rather piss on than engage in a conversation with. I like the Coen Brothers’ comedies a good deal, but I never liked Fargo at all and didn’t like Blood Simple much better and I sure as shit don’t want to see some retard with a Prince Valiant haircut murdering rednecks.
I like Edith Piaf and I like Marion Cotillard, and I had nothing in principle against La Vie En Rose, but I just couldn’t be arsed. Biopics about talented people who piss their lives away don’t much interest me, either. It’s why I didn’t see Control, even though I love Anton Corbijn. I know Ian Curtis’s story. I know about his shitty behavior and his pathetic suicide. I just don’t care to see it played out on screen.
Or at least, I don’t want to go and spend $15 to do so. (Ticket plus drink.) I’ll watch these movies on cable, maybe.
With the exception of Juno, all these movies just seemed ponderous and humorless and dreadful and depressing. You think I need the guy who wrote Magnolia to tell me how life sucks and people are evil and the world is fucked up? Got it, thanks. (I’m not even going into the Julian Schnabel movie about the paralyzed guy. Triumph of the human spirit? Great, fine, got that from the review. Don’t want to sit around trying not to snore for two hours while some poor fucker blinks at things.) Terrifying I can handle. Disturbing. Thought-provoking. I like these adjectives.
Dreary? Not so much.
I’m not looking for The Princess Diaries here. But life is shitty enough without hearing about it from some snide CalArts film school asshole.
I’m looking forward to Iron Man, The Dark Knight, Watchmen, Be Kind Rewind, Chaos Theory, whatever Gilliam does next.
You think that makes me ignorant of great cinema? Fuck you. Make some and maybe we’ll see. Stop playing with your dick and being mopey and bring on the Lawrence Of Arabia, Hollywood.