I've had a suspicion--
For some time, I've had a suspicion about myself. It's something that's not easy to admit in the blogosphere, but it's time I came out and said it, because something confirmed it today. See, today I went and saw Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, and it left me with but one conclusion about myself:
I am not a cynic.
That's it. My big self-discovery is that I am ultimately an optimist. Cockeyed and all. Oh, I have my moments, but overall, if there's not an apparent reason to be cynical about something (take my last entry, for instance), I won't be. It's not my nature.
The aforementioned movie is getting murdered in the reviews. Why? I don't know. I found it charming. The screenplay's sound, there's some beautiful photography, the main cast gives lovely, poignant performances, and there's a zebra. But this is not a movie a cynic (and let's face it, many movie critics are very cynical) would enjoy, because it's about wonder--about that part of childhood C.S. Lewis deplored losing as one became an adult. It's about wonder even in the face of death. I think those of us who enjoy fantasy are less prone to losing it, because ultimately, we all believe the best fantasy stories are true, and we could reach them if only we could find that darned Wood Between the Worlds.
My stories tend to have happy endings because I believe some endings are, in fact, happy. I think the reason I took to Doctor Who so easily is because living shop dummies, people-eating rubbish bins and time-and-space-traveling machines that look like retro police boxes on the outside and are bigger on the inside are *fantastic* ideas. I enjoy Pushing Daisies because pie and necromancy in an atmosphere of earnest infatuation is a great combination. I like shows, books and movies that make me feel like the possibilities really are endless. And I don't like depressing things because I've had quite enough of depression in my life, thanks. Not everything that's important is ugly. People forget this.
Not that I think everything is or should be all sunshine and roses. Hell's bells, I was one of the apologists for BtVS season 6. But give me some reason. Give me some redemption. Bleakness for the sake of "depth" makes about as much sense as making children's entertainment shallow and cloying because you don't believe they can handle anything more. Neither treats your audience with respect.
On the way downtown earlier, Pachelbel's Canon in D played on the local classical station. It's a piece of music that's been ruthlessly cannibalized for everything from weddings to middle-school violin recitals to commercials, and because of that, it's become something of a cliche. Yet you listen to it, and it's beautiful. The interweaving themes and layers of music, the melody, the harmonies--Pachelbel wrote the piece for no other reason than to create something beautiful, and he succeeded magnificently. Listen with a cynic's ear and you'll hear something that's been commercialized like Christmas. Listen with an ear for beauty, and that's what you'll find. It's quite possibly the most purely beautiful piece of music in existence (in my opinion, of course), and if you ask me, you don't need any more reason for creating something beautiful than for the sake of beauty itself. Beauty is its own kind of truth.
I'm not a cynic, and that's okay.
I am not a cynic.
That's it. My big self-discovery is that I am ultimately an optimist. Cockeyed and all. Oh, I have my moments, but overall, if there's not an apparent reason to be cynical about something (take my last entry, for instance), I won't be. It's not my nature.
The aforementioned movie is getting murdered in the reviews. Why? I don't know. I found it charming. The screenplay's sound, there's some beautiful photography, the main cast gives lovely, poignant performances, and there's a zebra. But this is not a movie a cynic (and let's face it, many movie critics are very cynical) would enjoy, because it's about wonder--about that part of childhood C.S. Lewis deplored losing as one became an adult. It's about wonder even in the face of death. I think those of us who enjoy fantasy are less prone to losing it, because ultimately, we all believe the best fantasy stories are true, and we could reach them if only we could find that darned Wood Between the Worlds.
My stories tend to have happy endings because I believe some endings are, in fact, happy. I think the reason I took to Doctor Who so easily is because living shop dummies, people-eating rubbish bins and time-and-space-traveling machines that look like retro police boxes on the outside and are bigger on the inside are *fantastic* ideas. I enjoy Pushing Daisies because pie and necromancy in an atmosphere of earnest infatuation is a great combination. I like shows, books and movies that make me feel like the possibilities really are endless. And I don't like depressing things because I've had quite enough of depression in my life, thanks. Not everything that's important is ugly. People forget this.
Not that I think everything is or should be all sunshine and roses. Hell's bells, I was one of the apologists for BtVS season 6. But give me some reason. Give me some redemption. Bleakness for the sake of "depth" makes about as much sense as making children's entertainment shallow and cloying because you don't believe they can handle anything more. Neither treats your audience with respect.
On the way downtown earlier, Pachelbel's Canon in D played on the local classical station. It's a piece of music that's been ruthlessly cannibalized for everything from weddings to middle-school violin recitals to commercials, and because of that, it's become something of a cliche. Yet you listen to it, and it's beautiful. The interweaving themes and layers of music, the melody, the harmonies--Pachelbel wrote the piece for no other reason than to create something beautiful, and he succeeded magnificently. Listen with a cynic's ear and you'll hear something that's been commercialized like Christmas. Listen with an ear for beauty, and that's what you'll find. It's quite possibly the most purely beautiful piece of music in existence (in my opinion, of course), and if you ask me, you don't need any more reason for creating something beautiful than for the sake of beauty itself. Beauty is its own kind of truth.
I'm not a cynic, and that's okay.