Dear Arty Movies,
Look, I’m as annoyed with mainstream ‘cinemah’ as the next guy. Ben and I regularly bemoan the lack of actual movies on our Netflix queue (as opposed to episodes of Nip/Tuck, Deadwood, and whatever else we don’t see on cable). So recently we tried to remedy this by moving some movies up on the queue. One week we watched Blow Up. Or we started to. I fell asleep after the third extended arty sequence about... nothing. About Vanessa Redgrave running away from the photographer for ten minutes. Although I did enjoy the crazy sixties fashion, that was about all I enjoyed. This weekend we watched Brick, on the hearty recommendation of some friends. I do not care for movies like this. Yes, I appreciate the effort to make something different, but in the end, what I want is to feel something. I don’t want to be made to feel something, Hollywood style with big music, and I recognize and even appreciate your efforts to combat this. I want to just feel something. I also enjoy thinking something. What I don’t enjoy is being made to recognize your artiness, arty movies. Plus, I also enjoy being able to understand what the actors are saying. None of this rhythmic pin-brick-doad-brain nonsense.
Arty movies, I cite Me and You and Everyone We Know, Lovely and Amazing, Amelie, Eternal Sunshine, anything by Wes Anderson, as sufficiently arty for my taste, and I suggest you take their cue – these movies are your kin, not your mortal enemies. You do not have to be obtuse and unpleasant in order to be arty.
Many thanks for your consideration,
PS Arty friends, I know some of you are going to be upset with me, but it had to be said.