Aren’t Oscarbatory films like The Artist, Hugo, and Midnight in Paris the high brow equivalent of the Transformers, easing the viewer into the same warm nostalgia bath, just with the particulars adjusted to reflect a different audience’s adolescent fixations? Might they even be even more meretricious because they rely on the borrowed auras from the canonical works/figures they reference (Méliès rather than Mégatron) to activate feelings of barely-earned recognition, which somehow invokes in the audience the false spirit of learning, or at very least, the smug satisfaction of the pub trivia warrior?
I mean, I feel this way about ‘em so that’s why I haven’t seen ‘em. I could be wrong!
- hndrk likes this
- fightwithknives likes this
- blech reblogged this from howsyrface
- paultron reblogged this from erikonymous and added:
- doctordisaster likes this
- erikonymous reblogged this from howsyrface and added:
- squeela likes this
- bubblebathosbands likes this
- isabelthespy likes this
- meghanagain likes this
- perpetua likes this
- nickminichino likes this
- nickminichino reblogged this from howsyrface
- howsyrface posted this