Tag: social comment

People Who Go to Movies – Deserve Better

After years of hanging around this planet I’ve discovered that there actually are two kinds of people in the world.  There are people who watch films and people who go to movies.  They’re as different as pigs and porridge.  It really doesn’t matter where you take your cinematic pleasures — in front of a computer screen, at a funky (God, I hate that word) retro theatre, or on the privacy of your own sofa, etc. — the activity itself is basically the same.   There’s you (obviously) the story in front of you and your willing suspension of disbelief.  That’s it.  And it hasn’t changed since Les Freres Lumiere set up shop at the Salon Indien du Grand Cafe in Paris in 1895.  The major difference (and it’s huge) is the attitude people bring to the experience.

Not to be too judgemental, people who watch films are pompous asses.  They think the only reason anybody ever makes a movie, anywhere in the world, is for their personal interpretation at dinner parties.  And although I’d love to get a few kicks in at those folks, I’m going to leave them alone today.  Besides, they’re all hanging out at a couple of International Film Festivals this week.  Probably, they’re impatiently waiting for some name-brand personality (complete with personal assistant, juggling the Swag Bags) to wander by and pontificate on world poverty.  Incidentally, the loot in those bags could lift South Sudan out of the poorhouse tomorrow given half a chance.  So, go in peace, film watchers, but remember, your day is coming.

On the other hand, people who watch movies are fine, upstanding men and women who have fallen on hard times.  In rapid succession, they have seen the demise of cinematography, film editing, screen writing and acting — all killed off by computer-generated special effects.  There are now only four movies left in the universe.   They are, in no particular order, Chase Me, Girl Meets Boy, Kick Me in the Groin and They Came to Talk.  Of course, some would argue that Aren’t They Greedy Bastards?, Yet Another Cartoon and The Flying Guts of Gore (not Al, the other one) are also movies, worthy of mention.  They’re not.  May I point out that the last hand-drawn animated feature was The Lion King circa 1994 – Shrek and Woody are pixel-powered.  Likewise, everybody knows that The Flying Guts of Gore is not filmed around some stunt double’s horrible disembowelment for cinematic realism.  CGIs (computer generated images) are CGIs, regardless of where they appear.  Furthermore, Aren’t They Greedy Bastards? is really only a sub-genre of We’re All Doomed.  And unless you still believe Gilligan was actually on that island, you know We’re All Doomed is nothing more that thinly-veiled propaganda.  In fact, these days the veils are so thin they’re making guys like Josef Goebbels blush.

What’s been happening here is for the last twenty years, movie goers have become so starved for movies – any movies — they are willing to see the same four, over and over again – and pay big bucks for the privilege.  And contemporary movie makers are shameless about it.  Even as we speak, Hollywood has at least thirty re-makes in the works — not including the ones they’ve already done.  For example, Arthur, Conan, Clash of the Titans and The Karate Kid have already disgraced the big screen, and I’m not going to even mention True Grit.  However, I do hope someday somebody ruins a rehashed Fargo, and we’ll see just how pleased the Coen Brothers are about that.  Re-making movies is becoming the raison d’etre for Hollywood.  Believe it or not they’ve remade Footloose, and Logan’s Run and there’s talk of remaking Blade Runner.  Blade Runner! There was even going to be a remake of The Lone Ranger with Johnny Depp as Tonto, but that fell through (probably because they couldn’t get Angelina Jolie to play Lone.)  Eventually the Oscar for original screenplay is going to go to Mack Sennett and Charlie Chaplin for The Little Tramp.

And when Hollywood isn’t regurgitating old movies, they’re overworking the franchise of others.  The minute box office receipts from any movie hit a certain level, hang on to your original merchandise because there’s going to be a sequel, a triquel, and a prequel.  Then, after that they just keep pumping them out.  Things like plot, character and setting simply don’t matter because all they use is the name.  Even the actors get fed up.  Spiderman lost Toby Maguire, Matt Damon quit being Bourne, nobody has a clue who Superman is anymore, and there’ve been enough Batmans (Batmen?) to rival the incarnations of a black belt Buddha.  No wonder he’s all tied up in emotional knots; he doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be — Val Kilmer or Christian Bale.

Of course, the willing suspension of disbelief is strained to the breaking point when actors try to rework characters decades too late.  Harrison Ford and Karen Allen were barely believable in The Crystal Skull, and Lucas and Spielberg are planning an Indiana Jones V.  Think about that!  Plus, they’ve resurrected John McClane for another crack and Die Hard (I hope it’s Die Hard: Once and for all.)  And I never thought I’d say this, but I wish somebody would just kill this current Bond and put him out of my misery.  Jason Statham, where are you?

The real problem is movie makers don’t trust their audience.  They make remakes, sequels to remakes and prequels to sequels of remakes because they think they hear the cash register in known quantities.  They don’t understand that people who go to movies love a good story – witness Slumdog Millionaire.  They might not nerd every detail of the director’s motivation or know all the ins and outs of lighting and camera angles but they do know a ripping good yarn when they see one.   These are the descendents of the people who made Gone with the Wind the highest grossing movie in the world for three decades.  They’re the grandchildren of the folks who went to Bogie movies before he was an icon and the kids of the parents who liked Marlon Brando even after he got fat.  These days movie goers go to schlock ‘cause that’s all there is.  All the good movies are called films and they hide out in Film Festivals.  There’s no chase scene in Lawrence of Arabia, no precocious kid in Casablanca and nobody got chopped to pieces in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.  All those movies were shown in regular theatres and ordinary people went to see them.  Today, they’d probably be limited to Sundance or TIFF or some other such place.  People who go to movies deserve better than what they’re currently getting and people who watch films don’t appreciate what they’ve got.

Seven Deadly Words You Should Never Say

Way back in January (seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council banned Dire Straits’ 1985 song, “Money for Nothing” from Canadian radio because somebody in Newfoundland took offence to the word “faggot.”  On Monday, August 29th (that’s seven months later, if you’re counting) the CBSC came out with its final report.  The final report established two things — once and for all.  One, comedy in Canada is not dead, and two, it’s okay to play “Money for Nothing” again.  Apparently, either, a seven month absence from the public airwaves can etymo-cleanse even the most grievous hurt out of 25-year-old song lyrics or Dire Straits’ use of “the other f word” (as the CBSC called it) wasn’t all that offensive in the first place.  As they say on NFL broadcasts, “You Make the Call!”

It strikes me that seven months is a bit much to wait for a ruling.  After all, the song itself, from opening riff to final fadeout, is less than five minutes long.  However, so be it: Canadian justice isn’t the swiftest thing on the planet.  It also strikes me that it’s terribly odd that last week “the other f-word” was an instrument of discrimination and oppression but today “faggot” is just another word we don’t use in polite conversation.  Again, so be it.  Words, like water, have a way of finding their own level.

For example, when I was a lad, comedian George Carlin came up with a list of “The Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television.”  When he did say them, not on TV, but at a festival in Milwaukee, he was arrested.  These were deadly words indeed — in my day.  Fortunately, it’s no longer my day, and Carlin’s list is now commonplace on TV, showing up on sitcoms, sporting events, the Academy Awards and even popping out of the mouth of the Vice President of the United States – when he wasn’t looking.  Not so deadly now, are they George!  To be fair, Carlin actually researched (“plagiarized” is such a hard word) his deadly words from Lenny Bruce, a comedian from the 50s and 60s.  Obviously, words have been offending people for some time now.

In that spirit, I propose (for the 21st century) a new List of Seven Deadly Words that should not only be banned from television; they should be taken out and shot.  To say they offend me is like saying the Black Plague was an annoyance.

Number 7 – It’s a golden oldie but it’s still just as vapid now as the day the first Valley Girl uttered it in a San Fernando mall.  “Whatever” was originally a term of dismissal, but it has now become an ever-ender tagline.  For example, people go to the store or whatever; they play tennis or whatever.  They eat, drink, give birth, sing songs and have their appendix out — then “whatever” immediately after each activity.  I have even heard “He died or whatever.”  Just a point of interest here; there is literally no whatever after the Grim Reaper takes your pulse.  “Whatever” is turning life into a series of vague comings and goings that drift around without definition or purpose.

Number 6 – “Going forward” (sometimes “moving forward”) is supposed to convey that sense of purpose that “whatever” has already abandoned.  It’s a tagline also, meant to put a positive spin on a mealy-mouthed statement — as in “We’re going to review our options, going forward.”  What this actually means is “The decision’s been made, and I don’t want to get into a big argument right now.  So shut up and forget about it.”  The problem is, in reality, everybody is already going forward; that’s what humans do.  The minute we go from horizontal to vertical in the morning, we are, by definition, going forward.  That’s why our eyes are in the front of our heads, for God’s sake.  We don’t have to announce it like we’re doing something special.

Number 5 – This is a compound word whose parts are used interchangeably and all have the same meaning – nothing.  “Empower/engage/embrace” was originally used by politicians who hadn’t read the briefing papers and didn’t want to look like dolts on national TV.  This led to some really goofy statements like “We need to engage the youth vote.”  First of all, you can exchange either of the other two parts of the word and not change the meaning (Try it!)  Secondly, the sentence doesn’t mean anything, anyway.  Unfortunately, the word escaped into the general population, and now ordinary people are “embracing /empowering/engaging” themselves all over the place.  It still doesn’t mean anything, though.  So, the next time somebody is “engaged/embraced/empowered” by Sheb Wooley’s philosophy of life or some other such nonsense, ask them why – or, better still, how.

Number 4 – Another Valley Girl classic that snuck into the language, “totally” is a junk word additive that nobody needs to use –ever.  Perhaps at one time, way back in Ridgemont High, it had some emphatic power, but today there is no difference between “I finished the painting” and “I totally finished the painting.”  Nobody even hears the word anymore; not even when it’s phrased in the negative, as in, “I totally didn’t finish the painting.”  Oddly enough, this doesn’t mean I never started the painting – which, of course, it should.

Number 3 – It’s “amazing.”  Written down, it looks just like every other word, but in spoken English it takes on a proverbial whole new meaning.  When spoken “amazing” has a drawn-out second “a,” and altering the drag alters the meaning.  “Amaaazing” is completely different from “amaaaaaazing” although it really doesn’t matter because everything that walks, runs or crawls is now “amazing.”  Chairs, windows and all other inanimate objects are “amazing.”  Meghan, Bryce and the neighbour’s cat are amazing, as well as a road trip to Brazil.  It all depends on that second “a.”  Eventually when we see the rings of Saturn — in person — “amazing” will last for 6 and a half minutes.

Number 2 – We’ve finally accomplished what George Orwell wrote about in his novel 1984.  We’ve created an all-purpose word that is the answer to all questions and the response to all statements.  “Awesome” is becoming the word we say in reply to everything.
“Good morning.”  “Awesome!”
“Your sister is a terrorist and they’re taking her to Guantanamo.” “Awesome!”
It’s also means yes: “Do you want to go to the hockey game?”  “Awesome!”  However, it never means no.  It can mean good, but never bad or indifferent.  In fact, it’s never negative, at all.  “The storm was awesome.” now means there was a lot of wind and pretty colours.  It doesn’t mean Mother Nature’s destructive power can kill people.  “Awesome” now lives in that happy, happy fairyland where everybody gets a rainbow.

And finally, Number 1: the most offensive word in the English language is “like.”  Eventually, every sentence we speak will begin with “like.”  “Like” will be inhabit every phrase we utter.  “Like” will become part of everything we do and every observation we make.  We’ll never actually do or see anything sharply described again – it will always be just slightly similar.  “I’m, like, going skating.” Or “He was, like, standing there.” Or “He was, like, standing there while I was, like, going skating.”  If this crap keeps going “like” will kill clearly defined speech and become the modifier for everything we do, feel or see.  It’s poised to strangle the life out of our language and the beauty and precision of the English is on the verge of dying a slow and agonizing death.

There are plenty of offensive words out there, and thoughtful human beings don’t use them; if nothing else, that’s just good manners.  The Polite Police are there for the yobs, who haven’t got a clue in the first place.  However, it seems perfectly acceptable for otherwise reasonable people to systematically abuse our language.  They have cut the guts out of it, without a second’s hesitation.  This offends me, and let me tell you it’s the canary in the mind shaft, warning us about just how vague and jellied our lives have become.

Shouting in Frustration about Back-to-School Stress!

The problem with writing blogs is you can’t shout.  All the words on the page get the same weight; none of them stand up before God and everybody, throw their heads back and holler, “What the hell is going on here?”  So, all you can do is delicately present what you know to be true and hope at least one person pays attention.  It’s frustrating work, but somebody’s got to do it.  Either that or we’re all going to end up sliding down some cosmic bunny hole and the Red Queen’ll be calling the shots.  This is one of those times when something is so messed up I just wish I could scream from this page.

What I am about to tell you is absolutely true.  No sane person could possibly make any of this up.

Recently, Angus Reid, those annoying people who always phone exactly at dinner time, conducted a poll.   They wanted to know — and many people told them — if kids were getting anxious about going back to school.  Easy question, simple answer: “My kid’s eight.  How hard can this be?”  Not so fast!  Apparently, 42% of children are not only anxious about it, they’re stressed right out.  Forty two percent!  That’s nearly half!  And that’s the national average!  Where I live, the percentage goes up to 47!  I’m running out of exclamation marks!!   Can you believe this?  I have no idea about the methodology of the poll — who responded, what the questions were etc.  However, I do know one thing, without even looking: Angus Reid didn’t talk to one single kid.  If they had, that 42% would have dropped to practically nothing – 4% max.   And that’s what makes this poll so scary.

Here’s what’s actually going on.  Angus Reid talked to parents and nationwide, 42% of those people who answered the online survey have no business having children.  They’re unfit parents.  Either that or they’re so ego-blasted on 80s entitlement that they don’t realize those munchkins who show up for breakfast every morning are their responsibility — they’re not just there to make adult life miserable.  Regardless, somebody should call social services immediately because these parents are not doing their job.  Let me explain.

First of all, ordinary kids do not come by stress naturally – especially in North America.  They just don’t.  Yes, I’m sure there’s anecdotal evidence to the contrary.  There’s probably some little person out there somewhere whose dad is a crack addict and whose mom’s doing covert ops in Afghanistan or something, but that’s not the norm, and that’s my whole point.  Stress comes from extraordinary circumstances.  Normal, everyday life does not cause stress.  If it did, we’d all be renting condos in the Valley of the Loons.  Besides (and I’m pretty sure about this, also) kids haven’t bought into the extra curriculars of life yet — things like mortgages, car payments, a rat-faced, inconsiderate boss or an idiot spouse who answers surveys.  They only get stuff like that from parents who are contagious.  These are adults who haven’t made the simple connection that kids can’t fully handle a lot of information yet.  They haven’t figured out there are ways of sharing life’s little difficulties with a nine-year-old — without freaking him out.  Unfortunately, most inhabitants of the 21st century think stress is a natural condition.  So, when it comes to their children, they treat it like an accomplishment that should be passed along.  Stress is taught in the home like sharing your toys or tying your shoes.  And when it shows its ugly little head, it’s rewarded with lots of close personal parental attention.

Next, kids go to school.  That’s normal.  It’s what they do, and they do it for years.  It’s like the cycle of the seasons to primitive tribes.  They measure their little lives by it.  Every September is a rite of passage – another rung in the ladder to adulthood.  I know people who haven’t been near a school in a generation, but the rhythm of their childhood is so ingrained that they still think of Labour Day as a kind of Everyman’s New Year.  And here’s another newsflash: despite what they’ve been conditioned to tell you, kids love it.  Why?  ‘Cause kids are sponges.  They soak up everything around them and process it.  Everything is new and exciting.  Electricity and magic carry the same weight with them because they don’t know the difference yet.  Every piece of knowledge is a mighty discovery.    And there’s no better place to quench that thirst than at school.  It’s the one place whose sole purpose is to explore the world and get in touch with all kinds of new stuff.  This isn’t just confined to the classroom, either; the socialization of recess or lunchtime friendships are just as important.  Children keep this sense of wonder for years — until it’s kicked out of them by inept and preoccupied adults.  Find a kid who says, “Been there; done that.” and you’re doing something wrong.

Finally, kids are tough little beasts.  They’re made to withstand the harsh realities of growing up.  Here’s how it goes: take away an adult’s most cherished dream and you run the risk of destroying their ego, their joy, their purpose — for life.  On the other hand, tell a kid that Santa Claus is…well… kind of a spiritual thing, and it might set them back for a day or two but pretty soon they’re on to the next adventure.  Kids face the Santa Claus type discovery over and over, year after year, and the vast majority of them shake it off and keep on moving.

Parents who see signs of back-to-school anxiety in their kids are looking in the wrong places.  Either that or they’ve already conditioned their children to be timid and needy.  Kids naturally look forward to a new school year just because it is new: it’s exciting, it’s more and different and part of that bigger life they’re growing into.  Parents who don’t understand this and foster it are raising a generation of young people made of spun sugar, so breakable that every bump in their future mundane lives is going to be a setback, an injury or an occasion for angst and foreboding.  These parents are stealing the wonder from innocent lives and they ought be ashamed.  I’d like to grab that 42% by the collective collar, get right in their face and shout, “Stop it!” but I can’t.  I just wish I could.