We’ve been watching a lot of movies since we moved out to the boondocks: we replaced our nightly pub activities with getting stoned and/or drunk and watching movies at home, and then gradually phased out the stoned/drunk aspect (taking it one day at a time!), or at least I did, which means that I end up watching a lot of dubious films (we’re relying a lot on eBay and a nearby crappy second-hand DVD shop) with my critical faculties intact. OH THE HUMANITY.
After a particularly bad run of crap about a month ago, SiC spent a few hours finding the highest-rated films on Rotten Tomatoes and ordering them through LoveFilm. He figured this would ensure that we got some quality cinema for a change. And it worked: we did see some excellent films I wouldn’t otherwise have picked, like On The Waterfront.
But the other night we ended up with The Passenger. Tell me, what is it with sixties and seventies films? Always the long, pointless shots of background scenery with people aimlessly wandering in and out of the frame; always the meaningful but elliptical dialogue between characters gazing off into the middle distance and not making eye contact; always the meandering non-plot and abrupt ending with no resolution; always the resonating themes of social isolation. Gah. I can’t decide if this was a by-product of all the drug use that went on back then or a contributing factor.
I’m sure it’s all very meaningful and profound, but I generally want a film to entertain me, not inspire me to write a thesis. If I’m going to watch classic cinema, give me 1940s Hollywood any day of the week. I want snappy dialogue and filterless cigarettes and architectural shoulder pads! I want men in fat ties shooting each other in dark alleys! Most of all, I want Humphrey Bogart grinning menacingly in a trench coat! Oh yeah.
I guess my taste in films is a bit puerile. What can you do. On Friday we’re planning to actually leave the house (shock horror!) and go see Atonement. I’m not really looking forward to watching Keira ‘Overrated’ Knightley lunging up out of the water looking like an Auschwitz victim (someone get that girl a biscuit!), but the book was good and James MacAvoy is very tasty…er, I mean talented.