Eight Heads In A Duffel Bag
Here's a question: What are you particular about versus what do you whole-heartedly embrace? For instance, some people are gourmands while others will eat anything. Some people read only what is considered literature, while others read all sorts of books and periodicals. You get the idea.
As for me, I will see almost any movie. My tolerance for the mediocre, the mildly sexist, the trite tearjerker, the eye-roll-inducing romantic comedy, and Adam Sandler, goes beyond charitable to outright shameful. Compared to my discriminating taste in music, my movie palate is all-encompassing. Sure, I've watched the works of Truffaut and Bergman, Polanski and Malick--and I am more edified and inspired when a film is bold or daring, or when it unmasks complexities in its uniquely succinct visual dialect--yet I can also watch Wedding Crashers or The Family Stone and come out of the experience unscathed, if not downright gleeful.
Compare this to my intolerance of certain musical stylings or events. While I might linger to the end of The Holiday if I stumble upon it on HBO, I couldn't get through even a minute of a live (and curiously recent) Jamiroquai set on VH1 or James Blunt on Austin City Limits. And nothing makes me flag down a server at a local restaurant and request the check faster than the sight of someone unpacking an acoustic guitar or mandolin.
I don't think this is about me playing music and having a more sensitive ear. A lot of musicians and even music critics are willing to check out any number of bands on any given night. Or they can have a drink with friends while someone earnestly strums and sings about lost love on a small corner stage. People from all walks of life and professional backgrounds will sit down at a Farmer' Market, their reusable grocery bag loaded up with vegetables and herbs, and listen to a local musician playing their catalog of catchy tunes aimed at the under 5 crowd. There are also those who can stroll across a city or campus square on a sunny afternoon and give a blues covers band ten minutes of their time. They can, but I cannot. Yet, not only can I spare a few hours, I can shed real tears (weep, in fact) over Eight Men Out, Invincible, or most recently, We Are Marshall.
Maybe this predilection for lowbrow films paired with a fussiness about music began in Olympia, Washington, where I attended college. At the time, Olympia, compared to most towns of its size, had a disproportionate wealth of great bands--from Unwound to Karp to Heavens to Betsy. It also had an art house movie theatre, but the pickings were slim, and the popcorn toppings--brewer's yeast and garlic salt--would have been better suited to a food co-op than a concession stand. I often drove out to the suburbs, where I could get movie popcorn with real fake butter and enough soda to fill a small bathtub. I watched nearly every mainstream movie that came through town, from Castaway to Contact. I think the keyword here is "mainstream." That was an informative time in my life: I was in my late teens and early twenties, and I was entrenched in Olympia's DIY music and arts scene, one that fostered a sense of corporate skepticism, eschewed excess, and exalted the alternative and the underground. But at the same time I was fervently collecting 7" records, reading fanzines, and attending four mind-blowing basement shows a week, I must have been missing that tether to a less insular place. And without a television set to save me, movies were what connected me to a world beyond the homogeneity of Olympia.
I guess I am lucky that it was mainstream movies that helped me keep sight of popular culture during a time when mostly what I was doing was rejecting it; I could have just as easily turned to romance novels or the TV show Friends.
And while I found it easy to let go of most of the self-imposed, strident rules I lived by in Olympia, for some reason my music particularities remain intact. There's enough amazing music being made in the world that I don't want to settle for just anyone with a song in their heart and a guitar pick in their hand. I will, however, settle for certain sights. Movies, in particular. Any movie. Anywhere. Anytime.
12:07 AM ET | 01-18-2008 | permalink
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