I've been ruminating lately on the nature of stupidity. I'm just as likely as anyone to call someone stupid when they piss me off (by, say, failing to notice the road signs indicating that Business 40 and I-40 will split in two miles, or that the left lane is closed ahead, even though they're CLEARLY MARKED...sigh). In actuality, the people are most likely merely ignorant, and we should pity them, rather than throwing things at their heads.
But what if you're talking about people who really should know better? Children, people with no Internet access, etc., get a pass for ignorance in many cases. But what if we're talking about highly paid studio executives, or journalists - people whose JOB it is to find out what other people think - and they still get it comically wrong?
I got to thinking about this today when I read Entertainment Weekly's post-coverage of "The Dark Knight," which busted box office records in its first weekend of release. (I dutifully contributed my $5.50.) The article's second page contains this bombshell: 48 percent of the audience were women. The studio marketing gurus don't know what to think...Women? At an action flick based on a comic book series? It must be because of those hunky male stars.
This is where I start punching things. I can't speak for every woman in that 48 percent obviously, but I know that what I look for in a film are things like a compelling story, a good cast, a writer/director I feel I can trust based on previous experience, stuff like that. And I do happen to like chases, fight scenes, explosions, etc., as long as the story's there, too. "The Dark Knight" has enough story for three movies. But oh, no. It's all about Christian Bale's cheekbones. Motherf*ckers. No wonder this industry's going down the toilet. Maybe if they'd stop making movies as if they were paint-by-numbers projects and just - gasp! - tell good stories and tell them well, then more people would go to the movies.
Of course, there is this idiot, who's probably more what the marketing gurus had in mind when they thought of the female audience. Oh, no, how is my widdle girlie bladder going to handle that two-and-a-half hour big boy movie? Here's an idea...if you're going in for a movie that long, don't start it off with a gallon of caffeinated diuretic. And if you are that stupid, please don't rope the rest of your gender in with you.
This story gets points for flakiness and for common sense. A judge in New Zealand granted a nine-year-old girl's request to change her name from - let me make sure I get this right -Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii. (Not a bad name for a movie, or a rockabilly album, but a child...?) Apparently the funky-nameness in NZ has gotten to the point where the law is having to step in. The BBC story has a selection of names that were ok'd and some that were rejected...Kind of like with "American Idol" contestants, I can't really divine from the results why X is brilliant while Y is awful. But still, it's interesting to think about.
I'm a little cranky 'cause my cable has been knocked out *twice* this week by crazy storms. Fortunately, Time Warner got things back in order in time for "Project Runway" last night, so things could have been much worse. Speaking of...every time that guy Blayne forces his little "girlicious" catchphrase out there, I flash back to that scene in "Mean Girls." ("Stop trying to make 'fetch" happen. 'Fetch' is not going to happen!")
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