OK, given that I could barely make it through that New York Magazine piece, I’m probably not the best person to turn to on this one. I mean — actually, no, I really have nothing to say. Unless you’re asking what stance toward Lars Von Trier would be the most amusingly perverse, in which case I say, Go! See it! Manifestos aside, this film seems so antithetical to your Perfect School aesthetic (motto: Nothing Messy, Nothing Ugly) that I am kind of intrigued by the idea of your managing to work liking it into your general world view. Also, Charlotte Gainsbourg is just so adorable.
Wait, that might not be a plus here.
Now I have something else to say, but it’s only tangentially related, and it’s this. Somehow I have stopped caring about movies, or about almost any other form of culture except for television. Certainly, it has something to do with this guy and my inability to leave the house, but I feel like it’s a larger problem. I barely read anymore, and when I do it’s some rag, or some “great novel” that I’ve already read 5 times. I rarely get out to the sweatshirt expos, unless it’s to see a friend’s work, and I can’t be bothered to watch a real movie from Netflix. At what point in this gradual decline towards total cultural illiteracy do I just throw in the towel and accept that it’s time to give up my chair at the smarty-pants’ table? How long can one coast on being someone who used to know things about movies and books? Does this happen to all parents, and if so, is it permanent?
Gentle Reader? Am I stupid yet?