... At this point, I feel exhausted by movies. I don’t enjoy them anymore. Every couple of days I curl up on the couch at 10pm, scroll through Amazon Prime video, and pick something to see. It’s almost always a disappointment. This has been going on for months. I feel like I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel. The mere thought of sitting through another blockbuster for two hours fills me with dread, and a pre-emptive boredom so overwhelming that I’d rather go do the dishes.
I compare that to when I was a kid, and even movies that objectively weren’t very good would have me totally immersed. Those films of childhood were special – they’d fill me with wonder and ideas, inspiration for scenes to then recreate in The Sims or Lego. These days, sometimes I’m lucky and find that feeling of immersion and awe again. But it happens so rarely that it no longer feels worth the effort to rake for diamonds in the muck.
What happened? I have a couple of ideas, but no firm conclusions: ...
Self-Censorship. Comedy was big in the early 2000s. Movies like Superbad or the Hangover had meaningful impacts on popular culture. But since 2012, the only successful comedies have been animations aimed at young children.1 The 2000s-era teen/adult comedy has died out, despite immense popularity. Why?2 Adult comedy thrives on irreverence. Over the past decade, we’ve become touchy about what’s okay to say or laugh at. Borat could not be made today.3 More generally, making challenging, contrarian films these days basically requires you to be an established auteur. Otherwise, the constraints on what films can get made (funded) grow tighter every year, and viewers get more of the same.
Most Stories are the Same. Kurt Vonnegut once said that there are only six types of story. The fundamental constraints of the medium (and to a lesser extent, audience preferences) lead to the same story being told, over and over again. If you’ve seen an archetypal movie like The Godfather, then there are hundreds of films that will feel like boring, worse copies. Having seen lots of movies, I do not recall the last time I felt surprised watching a movie.
You Learn the Tricks. As an experienced viewer, you learn the directors’ tools. The main character isn’t going to die this early, there’s another hour in the movie. That’s probably a Chekhov’s gun. As you learn all the common tropes and devices, it becomes impossible not to notice them, and movies become yet another layer of predictable.
Passive Media Consumption is Fundamentally Bad. Many years ago, a friend tried to convince me that the passive consumption of any media – film or television, maybe even music – was bad for the soul. To unthinkingly let a wave of content break over you is to inundate yourself with noise, to be filled with other people’s mediocre thoughts and games. Certainly, passively consuming media usually leaves me disillusioned: time spent, but nothing gained. (Porn is the emptiest calorie of them all.) Film is passive consumption by definition, because it’s best when you’re fully immersed. I’m not sure if I agree that all media is thus fundamentally and inescapably bad, but much of it is. Thus comes the slow disappointment of watching movies. First you don’t understand them. Then you understand them, and they’re captivating. Then you understand them too well, and they’re boring. Special effects become ordinary, deep movies become dull, groundbreaking themes become repetitive.4 You realize some revered directors are just hacks.5
Perhaps worst of all is the realization that the movies you like are very rare, and as you dive deep into film, you’re on a quest for the one-in-a-hundred experience. One of my favorite movies is Eyes Wide Shut. I have seen all movies that anyone on the internet has recommended as being “like Eyes Wide Shut”. Spoiler alert: none of them are. Not even close. Pulp Fiction had mass appeal, many directors tried to copy it, but it remains unique. One of the great things about movies is how many there are – you’d think the variety is enormous – but as per points 1-4 above, it’s actually surprisingly narrow.
Palmer got the keys when Windows found Bennings mid-transformation. You can hear something metal drop as Windows in surprised. Palmer has one of his earphones in the whole blood discovery scene despite all the arguments going on around him, and Gary has his keys during Blairs Radio sabotage. Still, the question is how did Gary get the keys back on his belt? Gary is killed by Thing-Blair just before the end, so Gary was not a Thing when he regained his keyring.
Kubrik dropped hints about metallic currency and the Fed Reserve in the Shining. And there's no way, knowing Kubrik's obsession with detail, this was all just chance. Even the scrapbook next to Jack's typewriter is full of article clipped about the Fed and Gold Reserves, and the "Gold Room" is not present in King's Novel. One of the convos Jack and the bartender have in the "Gold Room" revolves around "Credit".
Also cool: There's no time when Jack is talking to a "Ghost" that there isn't a reflective surface behind the "Ghost". Including in the store room, which has a reflective metal door. Hinting he is talking to a reflection of himself each time.
Lawrence Tierney, the guy who played Crime Lord Joe Cabot organizing the Jewelry Store "Caper" in Reservoir Dogs. Real Life Tough guy, arrested dozens of times for fights and drunkenness across multiple states. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lawrence_Tierney
Wil Wheaton recalled that while filming an episode Star Trek: The Next Generation in 1987, Tierney mocked the 15-year-old Wheaton for not playing football in school and belittled him with homophobic slurs.[40]
hahahahaha!
edit: I tried quoting @DemoralizerOfPanicans but it just quotes the last post. If I try to edit this it quotes itself.
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