Has anyone but me noticed that most of what Hollywood turns out these days is degraded crap? A look at the TV listings is a daily immersion in cultural degeneration and what passes for ‘cinema’ isn’t even entertaining. Frankly, there’s not enough intellect in most films even to qualify as entertainment. It’s all pyrotechnics, vulgarity and smut.
I love films and the craft of acting and I’m continually amazed at the strange witchcraft that allows a skilled actor to turn himself into another person on stage or before the camera. But it’s hard to imagine the current crop of dimwits being able to carry off performances like William Powell and Myrna Loy in The Thin Man (for smart screwball comedy) or Paul Schofield in A Man For All Seasons (for serious drama).
And when it comes to portraying the erotic, the current crop doesn’t have a clue. From Alice Colon’s recent piece on the subject at Big Hollywood:
A few years ago I went with an elderly friend to see, “Love Actually,” because we’re both great fans of Alan Rickman. The film has various vignettes of romantic couples and their curious experiences pursuing the love game. One of these couples happens to be two individuals acting in a porn movie and although the intent was to inject irony in the sex scenes showing the relative naïveté of the participants as they try to hook up, it failed miserably. My friend later said that particular graphic display spoiled the otherwise charming film which she no longer would add to her DVD collection when it came out.
Who decides to add these charm-busters to films? What is it about major appliances like washing machines that attract sexual activity? In the film, “Little Children,” Kate Winslet and Patrick Wilson drop their drawers to perform sexual gymnastics in the laundry room and several other inappropriate venues. “ Annette Bening has her head banged against a motel headboard while her adulterous lover humps her energetically in the Oscar winner “American Beauty.” Did we have to see Viggo Mortensen’s bare butt as he had sex with his wife on the stairs ( note: stairs are a very uncomfortable place to indulge in this activity) in “ A History of Violence?” Of course not and every film would have generated better box office without these unnecessary insertions — pardon the double entendre.
I could blame corrupt producers and directors but none of these quality-busting scenes would be possible without the cooperation of the actors and actresses involved. I’m continually flabbergasted that these so-called artists actually consider it of thespian merit to simulate raw sex before the eye of the camera. In a way, Eight Avenue peep shows are more candid about their industry.
Not one of these nitwits seem to understand that eroticism is ultimately about the mind and what’s left to the imagination. It’s not about “real life” (a constant cliche offered to critics in defense) – diarrhea is also “real life” and yet I wouldn’t care to watch it on the big screen.
In parting, here’s a 1979 60 Minutes interview with Kate Hepburn. Kate was the epitome of talent and class. She guarded her private life and never appeared to take herself too seriously. And she understood the difference between eroticism and mere smut.
