(via yellow ghosts and armour)
movies exist because pain exists and because people have fantasies that can’t be satisfied in real life. until somebody comes up with the cure for a broken heart, shame, fear, money problems, sex problems, loneliness, there will always be movies.
every movie ever made begins when a shark enters the picture and ends when it’s dead. it’s the greatest dream, invented to provide some form of relief and guidance, offering up a presentation of a problem and its resolution, but disguised as entertainment. a film is an exorcism.
since the time i was born movies have been feeding me with myths about love, marriage, what it means to be a man, a woman, a hero, good and evil, a success. to be clear, i love movies, i live and die for them, but nine out of ten of them played me for a fool.  
false comforts, false illusions, false characters, false promises, delusions of grandeur. naturally. i’ve never met a single person including me that doesn’t prefer to be presented in the best possible light. so why would our movies behave any different? a collective expression, collective prayer, of how we idealize ourselves. 
im no different. without my illusions, I’m lost. until I make some small measure of progress that temporarily reassures me I’m fonzie all over again. so when i watch a movie that reminds me i’m not as honest and original as i thought i was, that I’m a little bit of a fraud, part conformist, sometimes a coward, i’m immediately hostile. but if the filmmaker is persistent enough, seductive, skillful, sensitive and convincing enough, i can be won. because i don’t buy the idea that people go to movies to escape. i want someone to call my bluffs. 
film in america is a business and conventional wisdom has it that the client wants to escape problems, not address them, truth bombs at the box office. and yet, occasionally a commercially unviable american filmmaker manages to sneak past the censors to set the record straight, nick ray, sam fuller, orson welles, sam peckinpah, martin scorsese, brian de palma, john cassavetes. but these folks weren’t snobs. they were driven as much by a need to rebel as a need to please. they told the truth but also could put on a hell of a show. today’s current crop of indie filmmakers seem to have an abundance of truth in their arsenals plus a video recording device, but with no interest in exploring that device’s possibilities, in putting on a hell of a show. it reflects an attitude thats so jaded about hollywood it defines itself by the starkest possible opposite. but, why tie one hand behind your back? dg

(via yellow ghosts and armour)

movies exist because pain exists and because people have fantasies that can’t be satisfied in real life. until somebody comes up with the cure for a broken heart, shame, fear, money problems, sex problems, loneliness, there will always be movies.

every movie ever made begins when a shark enters the picture and ends when it’s dead. it’s the greatest dream, invented to provide some form of relief and guidance, offering up a presentation of a problem and its resolution, but disguised as entertainment. a film is an exorcism.

since the time i was born movies have been feeding me with myths about love, marriage, what it means to be a man, a woman, a hero, good and evil, a success. to be clear, i love movies, i live and die for them, but nine out of ten of them played me for a fool.  

false comforts, false illusions, false characters, false promises, delusions of grandeur. naturally. i’ve never met a single person including me that doesn’t prefer to be presented in the best possible light. so why would our movies behave any different? a collective expression, collective prayer, of how we idealize ourselves. 

im no different. without my illusions, I’m lost. until I make some small measure of progress that temporarily reassures me I’m fonzie all over again. so when i watch a movie that reminds me i’m not as honest and original as i thought i was, that I’m a little bit of a fraud, part conformist, sometimes a coward, i’m immediately hostile. but if the filmmaker is persistent enough, seductive, skillful, sensitive and convincing enough, i can be won. because i don’t buy the idea that people go to movies to escape. i want someone to call my bluffs. 

film in america is a business and conventional wisdom has it that the client wants to escape problems, not address them, truth bombs at the box office. and yet, occasionally a commercially unviable american filmmaker manages to sneak past the censors to set the record straight, nick ray, sam fuller, orson welles, sam peckinpah, martin scorsese, brian de palma, john cassavetes. but these folks weren’t snobs. they were driven as much by a need to rebel as a need to please. they told the truth but also could put on a hell of a show. today’s current crop of indie filmmakers seem to have an abundance of truth in their arsenals plus a video recording device, but with no interest in exploring that device’s possibilities, in putting on a hell of a show. it reflects an attitude thats so jaded about hollywood it defines itself by the starkest possible opposite. but, why tie one hand behind your back? dg

13 notes, October 29, 2012

  1. pocket-full-of-stones reblogged this from moreismoremedia
  2. moreismoremedia posted this