I have been called a movie snob, a food snob and an elitist. Is it wrong to be bothered by the acceptance of mediocre and calling it greatness? If I go to dinner, I don't want the $24 steak I can make better at home for $9. I want the 45 day dry aged porterhouse for $90. If I sit down to be entertained, I don't want two hours of bad acting, CGI effects and a plot twist I saw coming a mile away. I want to get up from my chair (or bed) sweating, panting, mind racing a mile a minute. I want horror to send me dashing into the shower, scrubbing the stench of death from my body. I want psychological thrillers to send me walking aimlessly at 2am looking for an answer. I want my belly to hurt, not from copious amounts of popcorn and soda, but from side splitting humor. I want to walk away from the screen questioning life, not just the movie I've just seen.
Recently, I've come across a ton of movie buffs on Twitter. I've enjoyed hearing their views and I'm glad to see that many people out there are frustrated critics like myself. I do however have a rule for my own critiques and that is never to give anything away. I am different in that sense and I know it makes my reviews lack any real depth, but I find that if one person sees a movie with no more preconceived notions than I did, they will get a lot more out of it. I'm not knocking these amateur critics, because even the best, the Eberts and Kaels of the world, gave us nearly everything, before ever sitting down.
Now here's the part where I a called an elitist. I don't consider many of my new found friends to be cinephiles. I see them as the word I used to start the last sentence; movie buffs. They seem to like nearly everything they see. Especially in their favorite genre. They praise the deepness of movies that aren't deep at all and miss out on the complexities of others, while boasting about the intricacies. I feel that 99% of the people I know take everything in a movie at face value and never look into it's soul. I recently watched a mediocre film called Mud, which was praised by the critics, but not one (professionals, mind you) touched on the real story of the movie. I had to find a message board to finally find someone who got it. That to me is shocking, especially for a movie that at the time of release was garnering Oscar buzz.
Here is one thing that truly bothers me about people. While anyone who is into film hates being told they didn't understand a film, whenever they say they didn't like it (my cross to bear is Shawshank Redemption), it does carry some weight. Nowhere is this more evident in foreign and horror films. Religious symbolism is one of the keys in many horror films and unless it's mapped our for most, it is lost. It's one of the reasons I love the TV show Millennium. Ironically, no Christian I know ever seemed to understand that the entire show was based on the Bible. Down to the addresses and license plate numbers. When Lost entered it's second season, I had friends proclaim they "thought" it was based on different philosophical views. I hated the show and somewhat figured that out in episode 1, when the guy named Locke's views were of some famous philosopher whose name almost escaped me....oh yeah, John Locke! This was when I truly realized that people, in general, don't get symbolism and they don't watch movies on the same level as I do. I don't knock anyone for liking or disliking something, but when they missed the point, I need to realize they don't care for the medium like I do. That is fine, we can't all obsess over the little things in every subject.
I recently spoke with some different people about different films. Some of them, were quite adept at discussing the complexities of movies and some were more concerned what is on the surface. I think of them as surfers, enjoying the scenery, knowing there is more, but better off not cluttering their minds with what lurks beneath. Then there are those who will sit with me and dissect a single scene. I remember taking a film class and there was scene in Touch of Evil, where the camera finds Orson Welles in a bar, as the camera begins to slide across the bar, it fixated on his back, never leaving it, capturing not only the his physical enormity, but his ego. All in one brilliant panning shot. I spoke for nearly two minutes about this scene after the movie had finished and if memory serves me correctly, it's the first time we see the giant Welles. No other member of the 30+ student class even remembered the scene. This lead to many long talks with my professor, a fledgling director, who gave me a credit in his lone film.
I do not ever want anyone to sit down to a movie with thoughts about this or that running through their heads. We're all subject to the effects of personal feelings playing into our views on film. I was late to the game to see the Oscar winning The Artist. Unlike most, I knew the star Jean Dujardin and knew of his comic background. Almost everyone told me they laughed throughout the entire film. Unlike them, I cried throughout most of it. I was touched by the warmth, the sincerity and the truthful homage to a different time in cinema. It moved me on a personal level, the realization that things change and our stubborn desire to keep the past alive is what sometimes nearly destroys us. The film left me breathless and that, to me, is what it is all about.
My problem with film, if there is such a thing, is that I want everything from the experience and when the actors, the directors and everyone else involved isn't asking the same, I feel cheated. If a movie is no deeper than what appears on the surface, the chances are, it isn't for me. Like I said, I don't knock anyone for their opinions on film, but know that for some of us, what you just watched, wasn't the same as what we just watched. I have always thought of the way I look at film to be similar to how an astronomer must look at the night's sky. For the average person, the sight of a full moon has them staring up at the bright sky on wonderment, but for some of us, it's the night when the moon is but a sliver and all those magnificent stars, which are hidden by the moon's light, are revealed to our keen eyes. If that comes off as being snobbish, so be it, but that is what I see when I look at that screen in a darkened room.
Recently, I've come across a ton of movie buffs on Twitter. I've enjoyed hearing their views and I'm glad to see that many people out there are frustrated critics like myself. I do however have a rule for my own critiques and that is never to give anything away. I am different in that sense and I know it makes my reviews lack any real depth, but I find that if one person sees a movie with no more preconceived notions than I did, they will get a lot more out of it. I'm not knocking these amateur critics, because even the best, the Eberts and Kaels of the world, gave us nearly everything, before ever sitting down.
Now here's the part where I a called an elitist. I don't consider many of my new found friends to be cinephiles. I see them as the word I used to start the last sentence; movie buffs. They seem to like nearly everything they see. Especially in their favorite genre. They praise the deepness of movies that aren't deep at all and miss out on the complexities of others, while boasting about the intricacies. I feel that 99% of the people I know take everything in a movie at face value and never look into it's soul. I recently watched a mediocre film called Mud, which was praised by the critics, but not one (professionals, mind you) touched on the real story of the movie. I had to find a message board to finally find someone who got it. That to me is shocking, especially for a movie that at the time of release was garnering Oscar buzz.
Here is one thing that truly bothers me about people. While anyone who is into film hates being told they didn't understand a film, whenever they say they didn't like it (my cross to bear is Shawshank Redemption), it does carry some weight. Nowhere is this more evident in foreign and horror films. Religious symbolism is one of the keys in many horror films and unless it's mapped our for most, it is lost. It's one of the reasons I love the TV show Millennium. Ironically, no Christian I know ever seemed to understand that the entire show was based on the Bible. Down to the addresses and license plate numbers. When Lost entered it's second season, I had friends proclaim they "thought" it was based on different philosophical views. I hated the show and somewhat figured that out in episode 1, when the guy named Locke's views were of some famous philosopher whose name almost escaped me....oh yeah, John Locke! This was when I truly realized that people, in general, don't get symbolism and they don't watch movies on the same level as I do. I don't knock anyone for liking or disliking something, but when they missed the point, I need to realize they don't care for the medium like I do. That is fine, we can't all obsess over the little things in every subject.
I recently spoke with some different people about different films. Some of them, were quite adept at discussing the complexities of movies and some were more concerned what is on the surface. I think of them as surfers, enjoying the scenery, knowing there is more, but better off not cluttering their minds with what lurks beneath. Then there are those who will sit with me and dissect a single scene. I remember taking a film class and there was scene in Touch of Evil, where the camera finds Orson Welles in a bar, as the camera begins to slide across the bar, it fixated on his back, never leaving it, capturing not only the his physical enormity, but his ego. All in one brilliant panning shot. I spoke for nearly two minutes about this scene after the movie had finished and if memory serves me correctly, it's the first time we see the giant Welles. No other member of the 30+ student class even remembered the scene. This lead to many long talks with my professor, a fledgling director, who gave me a credit in his lone film.
I do not ever want anyone to sit down to a movie with thoughts about this or that running through their heads. We're all subject to the effects of personal feelings playing into our views on film. I was late to the game to see the Oscar winning The Artist. Unlike most, I knew the star Jean Dujardin and knew of his comic background. Almost everyone told me they laughed throughout the entire film. Unlike them, I cried throughout most of it. I was touched by the warmth, the sincerity and the truthful homage to a different time in cinema. It moved me on a personal level, the realization that things change and our stubborn desire to keep the past alive is what sometimes nearly destroys us. The film left me breathless and that, to me, is what it is all about.
My problem with film, if there is such a thing, is that I want everything from the experience and when the actors, the directors and everyone else involved isn't asking the same, I feel cheated. If a movie is no deeper than what appears on the surface, the chances are, it isn't for me. Like I said, I don't knock anyone for their opinions on film, but know that for some of us, what you just watched, wasn't the same as what we just watched. I have always thought of the way I look at film to be similar to how an astronomer must look at the night's sky. For the average person, the sight of a full moon has them staring up at the bright sky on wonderment, but for some of us, it's the night when the moon is but a sliver and all those magnificent stars, which are hidden by the moon's light, are revealed to our keen eyes. If that comes off as being snobbish, so be it, but that is what I see when I look at that screen in a darkened room.
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