Dear Hollywood,
Back in the days of yore you could go to the cinema for
sixpence and twenty, and still have change for a bottle of pop and an ice cream
sundae to share with your “favourite” girl….
sixpence and twenty, and still have change for a bottle of pop and an ice cream
sundae to share with your “favourite” girl….
Nowadays its £400 for a ticket, and an extra 60 quid for the
thimble of genetically modified fizzy brown sludge, which you feel you have to
share with your “semi favourite, they might be okay, but they did say that
really stupid thing once” girl.
thimble of genetically modified fizzy brown sludge, which you feel you have to
share with your “semi favourite, they might be okay, but they did say that
really stupid thing once” girl.
The rising expense of a cinema trip makes the decision of which
film you see an unusually important one.
film you see an unusually important one.
It is no longer something that you’d
idly commit to. It means we all have to undergo a process of elaborate
deliberation, pulling our best concentration faces, before going with the
critically acclaimed one, or the over indulgent, Technicolor sugar rush
escapist option.
idly commit to. It means we all have to undergo a process of elaborate
deliberation, pulling our best concentration faces, before going with the
critically acclaimed one, or the over indulgent, Technicolor sugar rush
escapist option.
This is where the okay mid-level thriller or comedy misses
out.
out.
It’s a shame, because I love those films. They are the gems that surprise
you, or make you feel as apathetic as when you first came in and these are two very
important states of being for a healthy existence.
you, or make you feel as apathetic as when you first came in and these are two very
important states of being for a healthy existence.
The “it was okay” movies are just as important as the huge
blockbusters and the films with the awkward but poignant messages.
blockbusters and the films with the awkward but poignant messages.
In recent times, I have had to find ways to cheapen my
cinematic habit, particularly my love of seeing these terribly average films.
cinematic habit, particularly my love of seeing these terribly average films.
I tried to solve my economical quandary with a cinema
loyalty card for a specific chain. I paid a set amount a month and could see all
the three star films I wanted. It was good for a while, but I had to cancel it
when I moved to a new town without the specific cinema chain.
loyalty card for a specific chain. I paid a set amount a month and could see all
the three star films I wanted. It was good for a while, but I had to cancel it
when I moved to a new town without the specific cinema chain.
I then tried the popular “I love film” subscription, which
delivers DVD’s straight to your door, but kept putting intelligent black and
white Swedish films about the Bauhaus movement on my list and then sending them
back for unintelligent Technicolor films about girls who liked guys who listen
to Bauhaus.
delivers DVD’s straight to your door, but kept putting intelligent black and
white Swedish films about the Bauhaus movement on my list and then sending them
back for unintelligent Technicolor films about girls who liked guys who listen
to Bauhaus.
I have now moved onto Netflix.
What a joke.
The UK version is nothing but a collection of straight-to-DVD
and wet Wednesday films that scroll endlessly to the left, lubricated by the
oily tears of B list actors.
and wet Wednesday films that scroll endlessly to the left, lubricated by the
oily tears of B list actors.
There are about ten good films on there, a billion bad ones,
and a distinctive lack of average mid level thrillers and comedies that came
out after 1990.
and a distinctive lack of average mid level thrillers and comedies that came
out after 1990.
The “taste profile”, it so inaccurately garnered for me, is a
mix and match of films I have already watched to death and films that seem like ones I have already watched to
death.
mix and match of films I have already watched to death and films that seem like ones I have already watched to
death.
Do I want to watch Kevin and Perry Go Large or Pandorum? No, Mr. or Mrs.
Netflix, I don’t.
Netflix, I don’t.
I understand that the film industry must keep itself alive
through other methods with the death of the video store and the rise in
pirating, but why can’t us British folk get the same amount of good stuff that you
Americans get without resorting to changing our computers VPN address and pretending
our laptops live in America?
through other methods with the death of the video store and the rise in
pirating, but why can’t us British folk get the same amount of good stuff that you
Americans get without resorting to changing our computers VPN address and pretending
our laptops live in America?
I now use Netflix as a tool for long distance hangouts.
I
watch a film in tandem with someone else who also has Netflix and the internet,
and via the use of the popular Whatsapp app, we pass commentary on the terrible,
terrible film we have picked. That’s all its good for: Bridging distances
between friends and lovers in times of bad film watching need.
watch a film in tandem with someone else who also has Netflix and the internet,
and via the use of the popular Whatsapp app, we pass commentary on the terrible,
terrible film we have picked. That’s all its good for: Bridging distances
between friends and lovers in times of bad film watching need.
Thus, my modern day equivalent of taking that favourite girl
to a drive in has become the budgeted high speed world of cinematic experience.
It’s a process that’s as detached and cold as Dennis Quaid’s acting in
Pandorum.
to a drive in has become the budgeted high speed world of cinematic experience.
It’s a process that’s as detached and cold as Dennis Quaid’s acting in
Pandorum.
It’s probably a lot cheaper too.
I therefore have stumbled upon the point of Netflix and
unearthed its sole positive reason to exist.
unearthed its sole positive reason to exist.
It is the perfect dating method for the socially awkward, poor
cineophile, who spends too much time on the Internet.
cineophile, who spends too much time on the Internet.
Sure you can do the “watching bad film and making funny
banter” date at home, but witty retorts are so much better via the screen of a
phone, and Netflix is more vast then anyone’s DVD cabinet for tosh! Also, if
the other person is present then that’s dealing with social awkwardness, rather
then embracing it. Embrace it I
say!
banter” date at home, but witty retorts are so much better via the screen of a
phone, and Netflix is more vast then anyone’s DVD cabinet for tosh! Also, if
the other person is present then that’s dealing with social awkwardness, rather
then embracing it. Embrace it I
say!
So lets all watch Kevin and Perry Go Large with our phones
and our laptops, our store bought Diet Coke in the fridge, and a blanket around
our legs.
and our laptops, our store bought Diet Coke in the fridge, and a blanket around
our legs.
Lets all sit in the dark and usher in the future with comments as
profound as “wasn’t that bit five minutes ago with the dog funny?”
profound as “wasn’t that bit five minutes ago with the dog funny?”
Love,
Ellen
