Friday, September 6, 2013

Moviocrity

            I spend a lot of time watching movies.
            Something regular readers of this column will no doubt not find surprising.
            What might be surprising is the amount of time I spend searching for movies to watch.
            Finding a good film is far too often a daunting, time-consuming, tiresome task.
            For a short while when I was in college in Atlanta in the late 80s I collected movie memorabilia, and the thing I remember most about it was the sheer volume of time it took trekking around the metro area, traipsing through flea markets and speciality shops and trade shows, sifting through trash in search of treasure. A landfill of rubbish might yield something remarkable. Might. It was just as likely not to.
            Since that first ill-advised foray into collecting, I have spent countless hours in dusty old bookshops amassing the tens of thousands of titles of the library that surrounds me now.
            And I’ve taken the same approach to film––spending untold ticks of the clock scouring trade publications, newspapers, magazines, reading reviews, writing down recommendations, following the fledgling careers of filmmakers.
            All the above has been made a million times easier by the Internets. And yet that has only made finding a good film only slightly more likely.
            Why?
            Because of the dearth of good films being made. 
            Why?
            For a number of reasons. Here are a few.
            First and foremost the film industry devalues good writing. Everything begins with the screenplay. Sure, it’s possible to make a bad movie from a good script but it is impossible to make a good movie from a bad script.
            Film has become a director’s medium. Maybe it always was. But far, far too many directors today know how to make pretty pictures but not how to tell a moving story.
            Because writing is so undervalued in Hollywood so is reading. Too many people in power––with the power of the green light––read coverage of the script rather than the script itself. 
            The script is the foundation. Fix the foundation, fix the film.
            The best screenwriting being done these days is for cable television not for feature films and until that changes good movies will continue to be a challenge to find.    
            Another problem is that of too many cooks in the kitchen. Collaboration is one thing. A multi-headed monster is another. Less committees more auteurs would go a long, long way toward fixing this dysfunctional industry.
            In many ways Hollywood is like congress. Insularly. Incestuous. Corrupt. Self-serving. Juvenile. Facile. Meretricious. Shallow. Egotistical. Full of power- and money-hungry whores. Both bodies are far too influenced by those with money.
            There is way too much spectacle and not enough story. Too many movies try to wow an audience instead of move it. CGI, special effects, and 3-D are too often distractions, attempts to divert our attention away from the lack of credible characters and solid storytelling. They are sound and fury signifying nothing in an effort to keep our attention off of the sad little man hiding behind the curtain.
            Unless a work of art moves the human heart it has very little merit beyond momentary distraction. Unless art imitates life, unless the characters on the screen are deeply, profoundly, recognizably human, unless that same screen reflects life and the paradox and complexity of the human condition back at us there will continue to be more mediocre movies than any other kind.
            And that’s the thing.
            Most of the movies made aren’t terrible. They’re far too safe and cynical to be terrible. What they are is far worse than terrible. They are merely mediocre. Lukewarm leftovers of some vague something that almost but not quite resembles something we once could but no longer can quite recall or remember.
            That something is humanity and the sacred stories we tell to both remain human by remembering and to become more human by inspiration.
            At its best the silver screen is both a mirror and a window.
            Too often today it is neither.
            It is instead a glass darkly, a dimness that no longer sees us and in which we no longer see ourselves.  

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