Monday, March 24, 2008

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Hotbodypeebed Epilogue:

A few weeks ago, I attended a party in Boston (it lasted until dawn and we had to change locations before it was done because the police broke up the first half . . . it would have seemed wild if the arrival of the fuzz didn't prompt commentary about the 4th amendment by several of the party-attendees.  No amount of beer can ever fully suppress a lawyer's inner nerd.)  As I was leaving the party, the lovely hostess held my face in her hands, kissed me goodbye, and whispered "I am well with words."  Cracked my shit up.  I'm glad that line is the legacy of the Hotbodypeebed story . . . and not the pee part.  

And, now a new blog entry -- if anyone is still reading this, sorry about my hiatus. 

You can't judge quality by a premise.  In the vacuum created by Seinfeld's departure from prime-time, producers began looking for the next young single Jewish comedian to fill his shoes. Absurd.  Jerry's heritage didn't make Seinfeld funny; it wasn't a Zionist conspiracy; there is no secret combination of backgrounds and genders; 99 out of 100 "shows about nothing" will probably just be painful -- Jerry Seinfeld's religion didn't make the show funny -- his funny made it funny.  For some reason, people think that the secret to entertainment is wrapped up in a formula.  They think that genres matter.  In reality it's all execution.  Any premise can make a good movie (like, what the fuck was Being John Malkovich about?) -- (and, no matter how awesome it sounds, Alien vs. Predator sucked.)  With two exceptions, there are no inherently interesting subjects.  Ultimately we're all just looking for a buoy in our private seas of ennui, so a story is good when it stirs our emotions: if it creates tension and we feel anxious or if it offers an intellectual puzzle and we feel like smarty-pantses, then a given story successful.  So, don't resist chick flicks just because they are chick flicks -- the Notebook wasn't bad.  And, you should also Netflix the whole Firefly series even if you think Science fiction is weird.   

The exceptions I mentioned are sex and violence.  If there is enough quality sex or violence, a program will be entertaining.  Swordfish, for instance, is a shitty shitty shitty movie, but its famous topless Halle Berry scene allows it to break even.  Sex and violence provoke emotions no matter what else is going on (ideally not the same emotion), so a story will be entertaining -- maybe not good, but definitely entertaining -- as long as somebody is moaning.  (The same logic may apply to relationships.)  

I advocate the abolition of the genre.  Aliens should land in our inspirational sports movies and our giant monsters should struggle with adolescent angst.  At the very least, just to be on the safe side, every movie should have an underground kung-fu tournament hosted by nude sunbathers.  

  


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