11-21-2010, 03:47 AM
Does anyone else get sick of how bad art is often praised simply for being innocent and family friendly, or, at the other extreme, gross and depraved? Shouldn't those things be incidental to qualities like acting, direction, nuance, prose style, poetic technique and so forth?
Two examples in the medium of film:
Pink Flamingos, a 1972 American film, written, produced and directed by John Waters, the so-called "Pope of Trash," is praised as a cult classic seemingly just because it features an overweight transvestite (Divine) actually eating dog shit. Actually, no visual trickery involved. The plot, such as it is, follows Divine as she battles to become "the filthiest person alive."
Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, a 2005 British film, about a lonely old woman (Joan Plowright) who moves into a city hotel and befriends a handsome but impoverished young writer (Rupert Friend). Cue whole slop buckets of schmaltz and characters so thin they belong on a catwalk, this was still loved by critics.
Two examples in the medium of film:
Pink Flamingos, a 1972 American film, written, produced and directed by John Waters, the so-called "Pope of Trash," is praised as a cult classic seemingly just because it features an overweight transvestite (Divine) actually eating dog shit. Actually, no visual trickery involved. The plot, such as it is, follows Divine as she battles to become "the filthiest person alive."
Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, a 2005 British film, about a lonely old woman (Joan Plowright) who moves into a city hotel and befriends a handsome but impoverished young writer (Rupert Friend). Cue whole slop buckets of schmaltz and characters so thin they belong on a catwalk, this was still loved by critics.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe