Stupid people and their stupid refusal to see good movies.

Last weekend both Jeffrey Wells and the L.A. Times' Kenneth Turan weighed in on the sleeper hit status of the terrific film Once, and concluded that at this point it was too much sleeper and not enough hit, and that this boded ill for the future of smart, character-driven, putatively accessbile indies. Turan, while rueful, takes a his usual measured tone, while Wells gets worked up and invokes Jose Ferrer in Lawrence of Arabia: "I am surrounded by cattle."

I feel these gentlemen's pain and yet...I shrug. I'm too old to make myself crazy over other people's lack of discernment, curiosity, what have you. When I find myself working up a fine froth, I invariably remember the classic comic by Drew and Josh Allen Friedman, "Marnin Rosenberg in Bad Luck With Women," in which the titular hero surveys the shallow, vulgar female clientele at a Great Neck singles bar and is righteously appalled...

Copyright: Drew Friedman

I feel kinda bad about not having talked up Once more, but I guess I'm too much of a compartmentalizer. I saw it at Sundance, liked it a whole lot, told all my friends who asked me about Sundance how terrific it was, and forgot to put the post-it on my refrigerator reminding me to tell them again once the thing got released. I just kind of have a horror of talking movies socially with all but my most intimate friends. If there's one thing that makes me freeze at a party it's having a stranger demand, very nearly upon introduction, "What's good?" or "What should I see?" or "What'd ya think of this?" This phobia stems from several sources, one of course being that I spend such a huge amount of time watching and thinking and writing about movies that—and of course this is the hilarious irony for the professional cinephile—any kind of putatively relaxed contemplation or discourse on movies is near-impossible for me. Then there's the wariness of the trick question. When I was a junior in high school, having just transferred from another town, I met a guy who steered the conversation towards television cartoon theme songs, which I thought a little odd. Soliciting my opinion of them, which was not high. He then revealed that his dad was the composer of a particularly well-known cartoon theme. (And a good one, at that, one being reprised on the big screen almost as we speak.) Having achieved his pointless gotcha, we went on to become pals. Still. Not cricket.

I know—could be worse. It has been, actually. Recently at a social gathering someone asked me what I did, and I told her, and she responded, without missing a beat, "So I guess you're frustrated novelist then."

Comments

[Dave McDougall]

Yes, how to respond with something simple -- as is the expectation -- when all you have to offer is the complex? For the same reasons you mentioned (well, uh, minus the _getting paid_ to write and think about movies), I'm frequently asked what the last good movie I saw was, and the best I can come up with is to recommend some DeSica film that played for one day at BAM. I find this with music also - I recently found myself recommending Scott Walker's recent work to someone whose favorite band is The Fray.

[Aaron Aradillas]

While I'm sympathetic to the headaches being a critic can cause, I've found it's pretty easy to quickly figure out what kind of moviegoer you're dealing with in social situations. Body language and first words are usually good indicators if you're dealing with a Criterion junkie or someone who wishes Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan made more movies together.

Besides, do you really want to talk about Italian neo-Realism at a social gathering? It's kinda a heavy subject even for professional critics.

Personally, I try to fuck with people a little whenever they find out I'm an expert on movies. If they turn out to be a fan of a TV show like, say, Criminal Minds I might tell them to seek out The Music of Chance. CSI: Miami? Rent King of New York. (Remember when Caruso could kick everyone's ass?) The original CSI? Tell them to check out the one-two punch of To Live and Die in L.A. and Manhunter.

When in doubt just tell 'em your all-time favorite movie is Citizen Kane. That usually ends the conversation.

And Mr. K, you should've answered, "Aren't we all?"

[don]

I'm with you on Once...it's so good you somehow forget how good it is. That makes no sense, I know.

I guess it's hard to recommend because if you told someone you liked and/or respected how great it was and they saw it and said it sucked, you'd pretty much think they were a total idiot and thus, a friendship would be ruined.