a philosophical jag (via Transformers)

i know this isn't rottentomatoes.com and i know rottendoubt totally disagrees with me, but i have to put in my two cents: transformers clobbers the simpsons for ME.

who cares if the scrīpt came shrink-wrapped out of a cereal box? i was transfixed by the near-constant stream of visual thrills and found myself pressing  up against the back of my seat, as if i was on an amusement park ride! i loved it. then again, i'm also the sort of person who would watch "300" with the sound turned off.  casting john turturro was a preposterous stroke of genius, which injected an absolutely unexpected note of silliness and irony. (at the same time, for audiences expecting a more seamless thrill-ride -- suspension of disbelief, intact from beginning to end -- his appearance brought the roller coaster to a jarring halt in the middle of the film and cast doubt on the illusory "reality" created up to that moment. i can fairly say the film never actually "recovered" after his appearance, but that wasn't the reason i went to the movie in the first place. (i went to the movie because my 8-year old son wanted to go. as a general rule, there is no other reason to see a movie.)

in comparison, the simpsons is brilliant, barbed and acerbic, but in a way which can be appreciated easily on a small-screen television set.

it's like music (again, for ME): what's the point of lyrics? they are nothing but a distracting aural irritant, which, at best, on rare occasions, manage to weakly reflect the underlying emotions of the music. in all cases, words can NEVER contain the power of music. anyway, (with the exception of Friederich Nietzsche) i know i'm quite alone  in this sentiment. but that seems to be a life-long affliction -- in nearly all my philosophy.

10 years ago, i actually put away all forms of pop music in a decision to consciously turn away from The Path of Least Resistance. pop music is just like eating doritos: after the initial high from the first over-flavorful, artificially colorful bite, the experience dramatically dulls -- in palette, strength, revelation. in such a context, it's impossible to even use such a word as a "climax". ditto with pop music which is a series of endless repeats in loops of between 30-90 seconds. yeah, it's easy to sing to, but how high and how low can you go, when you're repeating the same thing after only 15 seconds? since that  moment, i've listened to classical music, primarily. not only because it is much more rewarding (with harmonic tensions built up in phrasings 20x longer than anything found in pop music -- 10 minutes instead of 30 seconds) -- but because it's much more difficult to enjoy. (trust me, if the build-up takes 10 minutes, instead of 30 seconds, the climax is that much more intense and satisfying.)

5 years ago, i made it a point to eschew The Easy and embrace most tasks with unconventional thoroughness, engagement and seriousness, not because i wanted to stand out, not because i love The Difficult, but, because my masochistic upbringing practically demanded this approach to life. recently, after a very long hiatus, i have begun to listen to pop music again. it's a sort of guilty pleasure i allow myself to indulge in periodically, like a big mac. don't get me wrong: i'm like everyone else. i LIKE and enjoy EASY experiences with universal appeal (like big macs and doritos), but i know it's important NOT to: it's important to struggle against facile absorption and "appreciation" of "culture" meted out in tasty sound bites.

(at the same time, notice that my unabashed enjoyment of Transformers doesn't seem to mesh with my disavowal of pop culture -- at least not obviously. now, however, is not the moment to initiate you into my world of convoluted logic -- to my mind, unassailable and ironclad. to resolve the seeming contradictions would  require extremely lengthy elaboration if not life-long acquaintance with my mind. luckily, few can boast acquaintance with the latter!)

i detest pop culture (despite my flagrant addiction to this site, which propels the careers of pop stars) and its easy answers, its truncations and simplifications of expression in all forms, the vicious cycle of pandering to the masses, which in turn dumbs down the content (which is then fed back to the masses) and so on. at the same time, its my job, indeed, my bread and butter, to remain conversant in all of its trashy and regrettable idioms....

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