Monday
10/07/03
Hollywood Hates Me
It’s been said, and by people who insist that they care for me no less, that I can be a real pain in the ass. And probably in more ways than I want to know about. But in any case, lately these same people claim that I am not only a movie snob, but a full-blown snot… as it were.
I guess it’s true, but I wonder how I got this way. I used to go to movies all the time. It didn’t even matter much what was showing; I just liked the whole experience. So, after thinking about it for a bit, I finally realized when my deep, earnest hatred of nauseating mainstream movies started.
I remember clearly one dark day when I was snared by my wife who forced me to watch Mrs. Doubtfire. It hurt, and not in that certain way I kind of like. For those of you who may have blissfully forgotten, Robin Williams played a perversely immature jackass who finally put his wife in the position of having to throw him out. And yet, in the equally perversely twisted logic of the film, we were supposed to feel sorry for him. And worse yet, you could almost hear the screenwriter’s rusty wheels grinding along as each new scene was broadcasted both LOUDLY AND SLOWWWWLY just to make sure that everyone GOT THE POINT and didn’t MISS ANYTHING. (Remember the old SNL sketches where Garrett Morris would appear in the corner of the screen for the hearing impaired, but instead of signing, he just shouted what was being said really loudly? My point exactly.)
Oooh oooh, but wait… then there are the movies that make me squirm because a writer or director had evidently decided that even the most basic foundation of logic that governs the universe need not apply. Case in Point: Pearl Harbor.
Ok, so me and my buddy Joe are sitting downstairs in front of the big tv, watching as fighter jockey Ben Afleck and his buddy make it into the air and shoot at the Zeros. As they do so, however, they somehow manage to be involved in every skirmish in the sky that morning. Then, after landing, the two of them suddenly appear out of the chaos at just the right time and pace in the hospital to furrow their brows and say supportive things to their love interest. But then, they magically appear at the center of rescue party saving sailors atop a capsized ship in the harbor. Huuh? And then… the pair of fighter pilots turned-naval-rescue-party suddenly become bomber pilots and fly in Doolittle’s raid on Japan. Whaaa?
I squirmed. I asked rhetorical questions out loud. Yes, I was a snot. And so, before we even got to find out which one of the hunks was to die a gloriously heroic death, my buddy Joe pulled his newly minted DVD out of the player and vowed to never, ever, watch another movie with me. Just as well, really.
So yet again I’ve gone terribly astray and nearly forgotten what I was actually going to blog about today, which was a movie I just saw that I actually enjoyed. No matter, there’s always tomorrow, and this rant felt just fine.
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Hollywood Hates Me
It’s been said, and by people who insist that they care for me no less, that I can be a real pain in the ass. And probably in more ways than I want to know about. But in any case, lately these same people claim that I am not only a movie snob, but a full-blown snot… as it were.
I guess it’s true, but I wonder how I got this way. I used to go to movies all the time. It didn’t even matter much what was showing; I just liked the whole experience. So, after thinking about it for a bit, I finally realized when my deep, earnest hatred of nauseating mainstream movies started.
I remember clearly one dark day when I was snared by my wife who forced me to watch Mrs. Doubtfire. It hurt, and not in that certain way I kind of like. For those of you who may have blissfully forgotten, Robin Williams played a perversely immature jackass who finally put his wife in the position of having to throw him out. And yet, in the equally perversely twisted logic of the film, we were supposed to feel sorry for him. And worse yet, you could almost hear the screenwriter’s rusty wheels grinding along as each new scene was broadcasted both LOUDLY AND SLOWWWWLY just to make sure that everyone GOT THE POINT and didn’t MISS ANYTHING. (Remember the old SNL sketches where Garrett Morris would appear in the corner of the screen for the hearing impaired, but instead of signing, he just shouted what was being said really loudly? My point exactly.)
Oooh oooh, but wait… then there are the movies that make me squirm because a writer or director had evidently decided that even the most basic foundation of logic that governs the universe need not apply. Case in Point: Pearl Harbor.
Ok, so me and my buddy Joe are sitting downstairs in front of the big tv, watching as fighter jockey Ben Afleck and his buddy make it into the air and shoot at the Zeros. As they do so, however, they somehow manage to be involved in every skirmish in the sky that morning. Then, after landing, the two of them suddenly appear out of the chaos at just the right time and pace in the hospital to furrow their brows and say supportive things to their love interest. But then, they magically appear at the center of rescue party saving sailors atop a capsized ship in the harbor. Huuh? And then… the pair of fighter pilots turned-naval-rescue-party suddenly become bomber pilots and fly in Doolittle’s raid on Japan. Whaaa?
I squirmed. I asked rhetorical questions out loud. Yes, I was a snot. And so, before we even got to find out which one of the hunks was to die a gloriously heroic death, my buddy Joe pulled his newly minted DVD out of the player and vowed to never, ever, watch another movie with me. Just as well, really.
So yet again I’ve gone terribly astray and nearly forgotten what I was actually going to blog about today, which was a movie I just saw that I actually enjoyed. No matter, there’s always tomorrow, and this rant felt just fine.
