so, my reason for not updating this thing or commenting on your lovely blogs is the vancouver international film festival. nothing personal, eh?
three types of people go to the film festival
1. old people
2. neatly-dressed people speaking languages i dont know
3. emo dweebs
(and of course, ainge, who is young, sloppily-dressed, and non-emo)
overall, vancouverites need to get a fucking life. im tired of seeing your dumb asses lining up for hours to see that boring, played-out documentary about red states vs blue states. yes, i realise your steady diet of crappy global news supplemented with the cnn blaring at the gym has programmed your brain to destroy any remnants of art appreciation and replace the gaping holes with a burning desire to watch americans dance their political gavotte so you can sit there and smirk all haughtily and feel better about your level of political knowledge. oooh, look at me, im interested in all these timely and relevant things, unlike dumb americans.
no, i am not going to write the film festival and tell them to deny you your crack. but please... if you end up attending a film that happens to involve a tad more creativity and thought, and it is lost on your shitty excuse for a free will/brain, leave the theatre silently. save your (loud) genius opinions for your friends and your blogs. if i run into this again, i am going to start punching the guilty parties. punching.
i just watched 4, a russian film directed by ilya khrzhanovsky. starting with a scene where three people lie about their jobs in a bar, and ending with a funeral in a village, it's his take on contemporary russia. you dumbass, pseudo-cultured vancouverites lined up en masse to see roberto rosselini's roma: citta' aperta (preceded by a fairly lame but heartfelt and whimsical introduction by the great italian directors daughter). you know, all the texbooks say he's the father of neorealism (not the kenneth waltz kind), so he must be important. seeing his film makes you soooo cool, doesnt it.
god forbid you actually sit through another great example of neorealism not yet mentioned in your stupid coffee table books on art house movies. no, you have to ruin it with your goddamn bitching. you have to sit there, behind me, and loudly proclaim 4 was "a train wreck" that "totally sucked after the bar scene, which was really interesting"
it's not like this was some kind of inaccessible, avant-garde, "fuck you, democratization of film" kind of movie. it was gritty, genuinely funny, wholly disturbing, and completely engrossing. it was human. its shifts from the manic to the languid made it alive.
im sorry that you dorks spend all day watching cnn and reality tv and cant deal with a bit of mud, extended scenes without hotties, and drunk slavs. im sorry that you can only be 'entertained' by plastic, dead, and packaged soundbites with accompanying sterile, pleasing visuals.
this isn't the first film which has elicited such a depressing reaction from the crowd. you dorks bitch every time some uppity director has the gall to make a film that doesnt 1. make americans look like assholes 2. provide sterile, mind-numbing escapism 3. glorify some existence antithetical to the yuppie way of life without all the scary details.
get a life. get away from my film festival at once, but leave your money.