(no subject)
Ah yes, three updates in one evening. Classy. But I just had this thought. It's probably totally insignificant, because usually these things sound so much more important in my head. Anyhow. Onward.
I was just reading an article in Entertainment Weekly, and the guy writing the article professed his lack of enthusiasm for Star Wars. After a few moments of shock that a person writing for a nationally circulated movie magazine could not like Star Wars, and a brief, cursory glance at the giant, barely assembled Lego Millenium Falcon sitting a few feet away in my living room, a thought struck me - we're all different.
Well, yes of course we're all different. How obvious. But somehow this really hits home for me. Somehow, due to taste, or life experience, or a different balance of chemicals in our brains, a movie that I consider to be one of the greatest and most entertaining ever made can have absolutely no appeal to another person. And I could write it off as snobbery just as I often write off my peer's opinions as ignorance (yeah, I know, I'm a snob as well), but it's not that. A movie that transformed my life, the way I think, the things I enjoy had absolutely no effect on another person. It just didn't appeal to them. And this can be expanded into other things. The music that gives me goosebumps, makes my soul ache, gives me the feeling that there's something greater out there, can induce yawns in my closest friends.
Why is that? What does it mean? Is it important? Why should I need my best friend to like the same music or movies as me?
I think, though, that most people feel that it is important. I think it has to do with the fact that the movies and music and stories that move us help us to feel more connected to the universal themes in the world. They express things that we can't even begin to know how to express. That's what makes great movies great. That's why, when I show something to a friend that moved me to tears, and they find it boring, there's a sort of a dull clicking, like a gun has just mis-fired. Somehow, we've failed to connect. We agree on things, but we can't share this moment, this experience.
And maybe that's why we get so defensive. When someone insults a film that you like, somehow they're telling you that you don't see the world correctly. That this experience that you've had was false, and that that isn't the way that things are. An opportunity to somehow point out a part of life and say "yes, that. That's important," has been crushed, and I'll never get to share that moment with this person that matters to me. And so, to me, there's a little break. A crack in our relationship, though maybe only a teensy-tiny one.
But how much does it add up to, in the long run? When someone doesn't like a band that I love or a movie that I adore, I feel genuine resentment. I can't help it, it just is. I want to share and I can't. I realize that you are a different person than I am, and that I can't change that. I can't force you to like something. You do or you don't. I can't explain to you why Star Wars appeals to me; that would be impossible. The point is, we both see it. It's there, on the screen, and we get it.
But maybe I'm being melodramatic. Maybe it's just Star Wars.
Just in case, though. I won't make fun of your movies if you won't make fun of mine.
I was just reading an article in Entertainment Weekly, and the guy writing the article professed his lack of enthusiasm for Star Wars. After a few moments of shock that a person writing for a nationally circulated movie magazine could not like Star Wars, and a brief, cursory glance at the giant, barely assembled Lego Millenium Falcon sitting a few feet away in my living room, a thought struck me - we're all different.
Well, yes of course we're all different. How obvious. But somehow this really hits home for me. Somehow, due to taste, or life experience, or a different balance of chemicals in our brains, a movie that I consider to be one of the greatest and most entertaining ever made can have absolutely no appeal to another person. And I could write it off as snobbery just as I often write off my peer's opinions as ignorance (yeah, I know, I'm a snob as well), but it's not that. A movie that transformed my life, the way I think, the things I enjoy had absolutely no effect on another person. It just didn't appeal to them. And this can be expanded into other things. The music that gives me goosebumps, makes my soul ache, gives me the feeling that there's something greater out there, can induce yawns in my closest friends.
Why is that? What does it mean? Is it important? Why should I need my best friend to like the same music or movies as me?
I think, though, that most people feel that it is important. I think it has to do with the fact that the movies and music and stories that move us help us to feel more connected to the universal themes in the world. They express things that we can't even begin to know how to express. That's what makes great movies great. That's why, when I show something to a friend that moved me to tears, and they find it boring, there's a sort of a dull clicking, like a gun has just mis-fired. Somehow, we've failed to connect. We agree on things, but we can't share this moment, this experience.
And maybe that's why we get so defensive. When someone insults a film that you like, somehow they're telling you that you don't see the world correctly. That this experience that you've had was false, and that that isn't the way that things are. An opportunity to somehow point out a part of life and say "yes, that. That's important," has been crushed, and I'll never get to share that moment with this person that matters to me. And so, to me, there's a little break. A crack in our relationship, though maybe only a teensy-tiny one.
But how much does it add up to, in the long run? When someone doesn't like a band that I love or a movie that I adore, I feel genuine resentment. I can't help it, it just is. I want to share and I can't. I realize that you are a different person than I am, and that I can't change that. I can't force you to like something. You do or you don't. I can't explain to you why Star Wars appeals to me; that would be impossible. The point is, we both see it. It's there, on the screen, and we get it.
But maybe I'm being melodramatic. Maybe it's just Star Wars.
Just in case, though. I won't make fun of your movies if you won't make fun of mine.