Because I am a knowledgeable cinephile, when I watch films, I firmly believe in remaining as objective as possible. It is for this reason that any instance in which a picture shrewdly manipulates me into momentarily forgetting my rational self and forcing me into an unwilling emotional attachment to its characters’ catharses, I am left with the most bitter resentment. Getting lost in an audiovisual experience of story is not what cinema is about.
Films should say things, not express things. They should tell us what to think about things, not show us the way other people see the world so that for a brief moment we can lose ourselves in the experience and cultivate a more empathetic viewpoint. In fact, at their best, films do not provide us with new ways of seeing and feeling but indeed form thoughts that we already know are true. The best case scenario when screening a film is that it gives you a jumping off point on which to type up a 3000-word screed about something that’s important to you.
Films that don’t do this, that instead cater to things that are difficult to verbally articulate (because, of course, this is an either/or proposition), can only be considered cinematic failures and should never have been made except for the fact that they’ve inspired this bit of writing I’m currently embarking on, which I must say I am rather impressed with so far.
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