Skip’s Quips: Losing No Sleep Over My Guilty Pleasures

Blog Sketch 082813Don’t hate me because I watched Major League II on TV. Hate me because I kinda enjoyed it.

Yep. Just like Peter O’Toole’s character in Lawrence of Arabia. Except without all of the scary sadistic connotations.

Maybe it’s a masochistic enjoyment of sorts. After all, Major League II can’t be said to be a great movie. It isn’t even good. Actually, it’s rather bad. The script is blah. The cinematography is unimaginative. The performances are along the lines of “what am I doing in this picture? I should’ve tried out for Forrest Gump.”

Yet there are some humorous lines here and there. And I’m a sucker for baseball movies. It’s definitely a guilty pleasure; I’ll admit that freely.

There’s no shame in that, right? Or in watching Marked for Death whenever it’s on? All right, maybe there’s a little shame in that. But nothing to lose sleep over.

Kurosawa observed it rightly: The Bad Sleep Well. Or in this case, those who watch junky films and enjoy them as guilty pleasures.

I know I’m not alone.

A Skip and Setter Diatribe: State of the Cinema

Blog Sketch A Skip and Setter Diatribe 101113Someone save the movies, please.

To crib from Byron: I want a hero. A super-director with a special power.

That power is trust.

Too few film makers these days are of the show-not-tell variety. Even the good ones seem to resort to preachiness as their work matures. An example: Ang Lee’s Life of Pi, an intriguing flick that ultimately turns to allegory to tell its story.

It didn’t need it. And that made it unsatisfying. But it’s not the only movie with this issue.

True, speechifying in film has been around since day one, with works such as Intolerance, The Great Dictator and others being benchmarks. Yet these days, it seems the genre has proliferated, with “man must” themes pervading serious cinema. They end up being hokey, as the dime-store morality in Forrest Gump was—becoming easily digestible pieces of protein without flavor.

Consarn it, I want more than just grill marks on my steak. I want seasoning, too—and it can’t be overcooked.

Many of the promising works of American filmmaking these days suffer from exactly that. They’re broiled too long and underseasoned, so you’re left not hungry for more, but annoyed that your meal cost so much.

Trusting the audience would make everything better.

So in this State of the Cinema, I urge the directors of today to edit. Leave exposition, back story and preaching on the cutting-room floor. Fill your movies with mystery and let the audience figure things out. You don’t need to be Harold Pinter, but you do need to believe in us.

Will you, that cinema hero, come? In anticipation, let’s sound the trumpets. And beat the drums.

If Only These Famous Movie Lines Had Turned Out Thusly …