It's 1:00 am and I have this column due exactly one hour ago.
Writer's block at 1:00 a.m.
As I sit here and type it occurs to me that when I didn't have an idea for a article that really sparked my interest 24 hours ago that perhaps I should have know that I was in the weeds. Fortunately I work well under pressure and have a good sense of what it interesting and funny even as I may have no sense of timing. You see, reader(s, hopefully), I'm a bit out of sorts with film and entertainment as of late and, as I drone on, perhaps you will see why.
I love film for film's sake. Like dissecting a football game, I love dissecting a film. I love to watch a film with other people that likewise enjoy talking about film – or in lieu of that listening to me talk about film – and talk about what was good, what was bad, and what I might do differently. Talking about actors, directors, cinematographers, editors, production designers, etc. Talking about the ones that never get enough credit and those that get too much, who'd we like to see direct what, and what roles should go to whom.
Like masturbation, it's a poor substitute for what I really want.
When it comes to football I'll
readily admit that I'd rather talk about it than play or coach the sport; I can't stand losing, and I don't know that learning how to lose is a lesson that has value: learn how to settle. As for film, I am better at doing it than I am at talking about it, and I find it far, far more enjoyable.
Metaphor for the film business.
As I churned out my last ditty about pop-culture and pop-counter-culture, I realized that I was as much a part of it as anyone; how can you observe and comment on a thing without being one of the apes laying hands on it? If I blast Tim Burton for any of the many traits about him that torque me off, aren't I still doing him a favor just by talking about him? Paris Hilton has a career based solely on her quality to make people gawk at her meteoric ascension sans talent. If the people who can't believe that she is famous would just stop talking about her, she'd go away.
Behold, I am what I loathe.
Consider Uwe Boll. Boll has headed the films Bloodrayne, Bloodrayne II, In the Name of The King, House of the Dead, Alone in the Dark, etc. Basically, he takes b-list video games and converts them into c-list films. This happens because apparently
Germany has some sort of tax law where it behooves rich people to invest in films that they know will lose money. If you haven't seen any of Boll's films, you really can't appreciate the humor of this.
Laugh all you want; Uwe gets more punani than you and me - combined.
But Uwe Boll is getting paid – well – to do what he loves, and I'd switch places with him in a New York minute. There, in a nutshell, is why teen-age girls want to be Paris Hilton; maybe she can't sing or act, but she gets to do it without worrying about going to some soul-raping 9-5 shit-salad job. I mean, don't no-talent success stories give those of us with talent hope? Or should we just be miserable mopes about it?
So as I prepared to talk about certain topics that will no doubt surface in the coming weeks like how Gary Oldman has never been nominated for an academy award, how independent film losers of today mock George Lucas even as he is the reason you can afford to be an independent loser in the first place, how actors have and will continue to come from all walks of life, how minority actors continue to starve for non-pimp, non-ho, non-gangbanger roles, etc. I must come to grips with the fact that my hypocrisy has reached its threshold.
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Thom is both a maker and lover of films. He loves, and makes, films of all kinds. He is often as surprised by what he likes as by what he creates himself; Thom entered film school with a distaste for silent, black and white, and foreign films, yet left having made one of each. He likes what he likes and make no apologies for his opinions.|
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