Filmic Rant

Currently in Earphones: Beowulf soundtrack by Alan Silvestri


So, lots of academia on the plate and the siren song of the Blog calls once again. Next time I'll stuff cotton into my ears and have Moose tie me to a bedpost. You'll pardon me if I descend into a ZeroPunctuation-style rant, but I've had a healthy dose of Croshaw's wit and the snarky, venomous metaphors in me are aching to see the light of day.

I'd like to take a moment to voice my inherent dislike of any film by Wes Anderson. I'll begin with a caveat that I have never seen any of his films in full, but I have caught the last 15 minutes of The Royal Tenenbaums and even then I had no desire to know what happened for the first 90. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate character driven work, but I'm always getting this odd vibe from Anderson's films. There's this glum apathy that seems to ooze from every poster, the characters lined up and staring straight ahead blankly, that begs for attention: "Look at me! I'm trying SO HARD to be a French-influenced tragicomedy!" Who knows, the films may indeed succeed in that aspect, but I'm not a snobby film student who gets a high from watching reel after reel of depressing conversations.

OK sure, most films of this genre tend to have some good moments of absurdist comedy thrown in to balance out the downers, but I really couldn't find any sort of release in the few trips to the Department of Strange Back-story that the director makes. Really Wes, while you don't need to have a stand up comic pop up out of nowhere to deliver a few jokes, please try have moments that will at least get a rise out of me. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the ultra-absurdist stylings of Beckett and Stoppard that are so off-the-wall that they become funny, or perhaps they simply have a better sense of humor than Anderson does. Call me strange but I'd be more inclined to see a film about the bleak way that the gears of life turn if a friend mentioned in the same breath that it was also somewhat humorous. Having never heard such a thing from the few friends of mine that enjoy these films, I'm more likely to shun these celluloid tales like a black turtlenecked, beret wearing art student sitting smugly in the back of a coffee shop.

Maybe I'm just a starry-eyed dreamer with his head in the clouds, but I was under the impression that we watched movies to be entertained, to be taken somewhere and shown something that normally doesn't happen. I'm not saying that every film needs to be some foolishly hopeful escapist fantasty, but I don't settle down in the theater to relive the experience of seeing promising people stuck in dead end jobs, chafing under a dysfunctional family, or dealing with the everyday gremlins of boredom and purposeless. Really, real life does that fine for me, I don't need to re-tread those paths by sitting in a dark room with a giant image in front of me for an extended period of time. If I do go see a tragic film, you can be damn sure there will be characters I can root for to whom bad shit will go down.

In sum, I think I might start going to see Wes Anderson films the minute the promotional materials stop looking like oddly placed police line-ups. However, since there seems to be little chance of that happening, I'll continue to see the unrealistic, rose-colored and implausable films that I wouldn't mind paying a wad of cash for.


Enough, More Later.
- James