One of the reasons why I started this blog was to try to get into the habit of writing every day or nearly everyday. One of the reasons why I don't already write nearly every day is because I so rarely have anything of substance to say.
(But that hasn't stopped you from blogging so far, you might say. Zing!)
It's one thing to be working on a larger piece--a novel for example--and to have a day where you just aren't feeling it and to have your production for the day be below average. But it's entirely another when you sit down to work on something completely new and just not have anything.
Look. I'll be the first to admit that the act of writing a blog (and a blog that, like, six people read to boot) isn't a monumentally challenging act. Take the entries that I've posted so far: I sit down at the computer with whatever topic I've decided to prattle about for the day; I figure out how I'm going to start, which is always the most difficult part; I type--sometimes for upwards of 20 minutes--then re-read what I've put down in a (usually surprisingly unsuccessful) attempt to copy-edit. Done! Six of you read it, one of you will comment, and I go to bed safe in the knowledge that my original thought for the day has been heard by slightly fewer people than if I had just stood on my doorstep and shouted it at the neighborhood.
But writing about something just strikes me as boorish. Like calling someone to tell them you're tired. And when you're trying to add to a blog where you've (allegedly) set a precedent of being funny? Fuck man. You know what it's like when someone introduces you to someone else, and they're all like "this is so-and-so. He's the funniest person I know" and so the new person is like "Oh, tell me a joke"? No one has ever thought of something funny in that moment. Now imagine doing that to yourself for like an hour.
You: "Dude, if you're going to write something, don't forget to make it funny too!"
Yourself again: "...really? It's bad enough I can't think of anything to say, but there's that as well?"
You: "Don't give me that. You're hilarious. Everyone says so. Just write something down right now. Something funny. Go."
...I don't know. I guess I could just link to more Family Guy.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Shitty Movie Review: Law Abiding Citizen
To begin, a couple of disclaimers.
1) The following post will feature a few spoilers. So if you haven't seen "Law Abiding Citizen" yet and were still hoping to without knowing too much about it, then I should also probably tell you that Kevin Spacey is the killer in "Seven" and the chick in "The Crying Game" is a dude. I mean come on. You've had six months.
2) For better or worse, everyones tastes in things are different. And it's just human nature for people to take criticism of their tastes as criticism of themselves. So there might be a couple of you out there with particularly thin skins who might read a statement like "this movie goes beyond normal stupid, and moves into 'cast of Deliverance, marry your cousin and have babies with flippers for arms' level stupid", and think that I'm really calling you stupid for liking the movie. Friends. That's why I'm taking the time to include this disclaimer. So I can clear up any potential confusion as early as possible. That's absolutely what I'm doing. This movie is for people who would drown during a heavy rainstorm if someone didn't keep them from looking up to see where the water was coming from. The kind of people who appreciate "The Teletubbies" for it's nuanced character development. Copies of this DVD should have been packaged with a Special Olympics enrollment form.
OK! Now that we've gotten both of those things out of the way, on to the review:
Every film that comes out, be it summer action blockbuster or Indie-darling Oscar fodder, relies to some degree or another on the suspension of disbelief. We, as movie goers, buy into that unspoken contract each time we pay for a ticket. But the thing about willing suspension of disbelief is, we're willing to believe in a LOT of things for the sake of appreciating a story (space operas, for example), but you had damn well better get the little shit right.
Case in point: When sitting in the theater with a friend watching Paul Verhoeven's faux-propaganda masterpiece Starship Troopers, we sat in rapt attention while an army of Space Marines fought with a planet of impossibly sized bugs so they could capture one to be handed over to the military psychics. All disbelief was willingly suspended until this scene.
My friend turned to me and snorted at the idea of three people not only outrunning an explosion, but turning and looking back several times to check their progress. It didn't completely ruin the movie for us, but it certainly pulled you out of the moment of the scene. Explosions are an especially common example. One of the things that made Scifi fanboys shoot a big creamy one over Joss Whedon's wildly under-appreciated Firefly was the fact that he shot all of his space action sequences with no sound. Because there's no fucking sound in space.
But I've gotten off track.
What does ANY of the above have to do with Law Abiding Citizen, you might be wondering. Well at the films heart, there's actually a really excellent story idea. And the whole thing gets blown 11 minutes in, when Jamie Foxx's Assistant DA character shakes hands with a convicted murderer.
The way the film kick off is that King Leonidas' family gets killed by a couple of burglars. After watching his family die but surviving his own wounds, his majesty has to then watch the ensuing legal wrangling as the man who actually did all the killing makes a deal with Ray Charles to pin the murders on his accomplice. In exchange for throwing his buddy under the bus, the real killer pleads guilty to murder in the third degree and will serve a few years in prison while his partner gets the death penalty. This makes Leonidas mad. Realllly mad. And the image that burns into his mind is one of Ray Charles standing on the steps of the courthouse. See, he's there explaining the deal to reporters and up walks his new best friend the murderer with the cops who are supposed to be taking him back to jail. He holds out his hand in a mock show of friendship and Ray Charles shakes it.
RIGHT THERE!
There is so much wrong with that ONE scene, that the wheels came right off this wagon for me. Quick, bring up Google in a different window. Now do a search and find me a photo of a prosecuting attorney shaking hands with the dude he's sending to jail. I'll wait. I've got some chips here.
It's damn hard to find, right? Because it doesn't happen! See, the thing is, even though the DA cut a deal, and even though one guy is helping send another guy to death row, none of that changes the fact that the first guy is STILL being convicted of murder. And DAs don't like to take pictures shaking hands with murderers. And that's without bringing up questions like "why was this convicted murderer allowed within 10 feet of the man who's currently bragging to the press about sending him to prison?" And "Why was the convicted murderer being brought out the front doors anyway?" So much wrong with that scene.
"But so what?" You might be saying. "That's one scene in a 90 minute film. You can't let one thing ruin the whole movie." Oh friends, I didn't. The film resumed getting the small things wrong just four minutes later, when we fast forward 10 years and we see Ray Charles' daughter go to a music recital, pick up a cello and proceed to rock that shit like she's Yo-Yo Ma. Throughout the film, Director F. Gary Gray continues to botch the little stuff which, unfortunately, has the effect of underscoring just how preposterous the big stuff--the stuff for which we'd normally try and suspend our disbelief--really is.
So King Leonidas goes off the deep end and hatches a grand plan to get revenge on the DA's office, the people who killed his family, the judge, the cops, random inmates, the entire city of Philadelphia...pretty much everyone. It's a plan that involves getting arrested for one murder, so he can go to jail, so he can break out of jail, so he can commit MORE murders...so he can try and get the DA to make a deal to let him out of jail.
And just so things can begin as weirdly as possible, the whole plan starts like this.
WHY DID THAT HAVE TO HAPPEN?? Why is he naked???
Since we've already committed this blog entry to "tl;dr" territory, allow me to digress for one more moment here: Is there an actor today with a more mis-matched head and body than Gerard Butler? I mean, you look at a head shot and--while he certainly doesn't look fat or anything--he seems like a guy who knows his way around a beer and a couch.
But then he takes off his shirt (and he WILL take off his shirt; it's in his rider), and it's all like KABLAM-O! He's still rocking the "300" abs.
Moving on.
So he's got a plan to kill everyone he possibly can, no matter how tenuous their connection to his family's murder and subsequent trial. This includes a half dozen random paralegals, his cell mate--who's death serves no purpose other than to get him into the right cell--and, eventually, the mayor. Which, assuming she's the same person who was mayor when the events that sent him over the edge took place, means she's serving at least her third term in that position. Not unprecedented, but just worth pointing out.
And here's the point when we stop harping on the little things and start looking at the story as a whole. Every story needs certain things. Paramount among them are people to fit the protagonist/antagonist roles. The audience needs someone to empathize with and root for. That person doesn't have to be a good guy, and he doesn't have to be nice, but he has to be there.
When it comes to "Law Abiding Citizen", it starts out pretty clean cut: Butler's character watches his family get slaughtered, then seethes with anger at the judicial system that allows the man actually responsible to serve a sentence far below what he's earned. On the flip side is Foxx's Assistant DA, who cuts a deal with a murderer in a move that (as we're hit over the head with in the exposition) is geared solely towards padding his high conviction numbers. He'd rather make a deal for one bad guy then risk a trial to get two. Fine.
But then Gray takes his film sideways on us and we watch the character we've hitched our emotional wagons to slip off the deep end in pretty stunning fashion. We try to stay with him for a bit--who WOULDN'T want to exact slow and painful revenge upon someone who killed our family--but it quickly encompasses a scale to which we're not meant to follow; our good guy is the bad guy. Even that would be fine, except for the fact that Foxx continues to play his character with the same flippant disregard that he had in the beginning of the film and it sets us adrift emotionally. We don't really care about Foxx's character, and we can't care about Gerard's. With no emotional anchor, the film loses all investment and becomes a bunch of random violence that serves only to push us to the next ridiculous scene, rather than to validate our feelings one way or the other.
Gerard is a better actor than his abs would allow you to believe. His biggest flaw as a professional is an apparent ignorance of the fact that he's allowed to say "no" to a script now and then. As for Foxx, while he's certainly a multi-talented dude, he's definitely got his shortcomings. He's musically gifted; he can sing, dance, and is spot on with his impressions (he won an Oscar for one). But if he's not aping someone else, his artistic range is somewhat limited.
My point is that the actors, despite their limitations, do the best they can with what they were given. The blame for this movie turning into a gigantic piece of shit rests completely with Director Gray and writer Kurt Wimmer (who's list of previous credits is rife with films that were brimming with promise and suffered mightily from scripts that were half baked and poorly constructed). This brings us back to my original point.
When you've got a plot that so obviously hinges on such a high number of ridiculous and improbable events--things you're specifically counting on an audience letting slide--it becomes that much more important to meet them half way and to keep the world surrounding those events as "real" as possible. Which is why things like the Assistant DA shaking hands with a convicted murderer or a 10 year old girl playing the cello like she's Rainman counting cards makes it so difficult to swallow the idea of a millionaire ex-black operative buying a ware house next to a prison so he can tunnel underneath the walls and into the solitary holding cells, then commit a crime and get sent to the same prison so he can get put INTO solitary so he can sneak OUT of prison through the tunnels he built...
And it's not a matter of me just not wanting to go along because I feel like some contract has been broken; it's a systemic thing. Once a movie puts you in a position to question small things, it's an easy slope to move on to questioning the things the film centers around. When that happens, the audience is less likely to go on your ride at all.
A good example of this can be found in the Die Hard films. In the first Die Hard, John McClane is introduced to us as efficiently as possible. We see him arriving in LA to spend Christmas with his wife, we see where she works, we meet everyone we need to and there's very little about the story set up prior to Hans Gruber's takeover of the Nakatomi Tower to question. Therefore, when the first belief-suspending coincidence comes up (that John happens to be in the same building Gruber is taking over and happens to be the one person the bad guys don't find when they seize control), we're willing to take that ride. Everything after that is gravy (including more explosion shenanigans).
But as the series progressed, while the method for telling the stories remained pretty much the same, the character of John McClane evolved from "NYPD Everyman" to some kind of GI Joe action hero, until the fourth installment has him killing a helicopter with a car.
So, getting back to this crapfest, when you find yourself starting a movie off asking questions like "why is that murderer standing on the courthouse steps", it gets you in the frame of mind to KEEP asking questions, which leads to things like "why couldn't he do this whole plan from his living room?"
In fact, it seems like the story could have been much more taut if he had conducted the whole plan from his living room. The premise given for his anger is the loopholes and legal procedures that allowed a murderer to walk free after a short jail term. If the movie had spent 90 minutes showing Butler's character killing person after person, yet doing so in a ways that made it impossible for any strong charges to be brought against him, it would have been a film about an angry (crazy) man underscoring the flaws in an imperfect system that's heavily weighted in favor of those who can work it.
I wanted this movie to be better than I suspected it was going to be. It's not like I went to the video store thinking "I kind of want to be frustrated and intellectually insulted for a couple hours", but that's what happened. Which is my clumsy way of segueing into my final point.
As a friend of mine pointed out: "The point of a movie is to entertain. It did its job. Despite being moderately intelligent, I was still entertained by it. I'd call it a 'fun movie', but not a 'good film.'"
There are plenty of stupid movies out there and there's a segment of the population who'll pay to see them. But I don't think that should be allowed to be a viable defense. One of the interesting bi-products of (the perception of) unfettered freedom in America has been the willingness to continually dumb-down our society. This is largely a capitalistic move. In a effort to cash in on the knuckle dragging masses, the lowest common denominator continues to be lowered. The result is that, rather than our arts and entertainment raising the level of our thought and discourse, we allow our bottom feeders to drag the entertainment level down to them. Art imitates life, life reflects art, until we've reached a point in society where people will go on TV for free for the chance to catch an STD from Tila Tequila, and we actually have politicians talking about an opposing politician's extensive education like it's a bad thing.
Look, I'm not saying that every film that comes out needs to be "Primer"; far more people have seen "The Lord of the Rings" than "Le Cercle Rouge" and I'm 100% OK with that. But when Hollywood stands over our collective chests, clenches it's eyes shut and drops a cinematic Cleveland Steamer for us to enjoy, I'm going to revel in my God-given right to mock people who sit in the front row and 'tard clap for it.
No, despite my most ardent wishes, Hollywood does not have a social responsibility to help make us a smarter, more rounded society. And, despite my deepest desires, mainstream films and video games will never reach their true artistic potential because of it. But that's the world we live in, and you don't have to join me in my disappointment. But that won't stop a few of us from fighting the good fight.
1) The following post will feature a few spoilers. So if you haven't seen "Law Abiding Citizen" yet and were still hoping to without knowing too much about it, then I should also probably tell you that Kevin Spacey is the killer in "Seven" and the chick in "The Crying Game" is a dude. I mean come on. You've had six months.
2) For better or worse, everyones tastes in things are different. And it's just human nature for people to take criticism of their tastes as criticism of themselves. So there might be a couple of you out there with particularly thin skins who might read a statement like "this movie goes beyond normal stupid, and moves into 'cast of Deliverance, marry your cousin and have babies with flippers for arms' level stupid", and think that I'm really calling you stupid for liking the movie. Friends. That's why I'm taking the time to include this disclaimer. So I can clear up any potential confusion as early as possible. That's absolutely what I'm doing. This movie is for people who would drown during a heavy rainstorm if someone didn't keep them from looking up to see where the water was coming from. The kind of people who appreciate "The Teletubbies" for it's nuanced character development. Copies of this DVD should have been packaged with a Special Olympics enrollment form.
OK! Now that we've gotten both of those things out of the way, on to the review:
Every film that comes out, be it summer action blockbuster or Indie-darling Oscar fodder, relies to some degree or another on the suspension of disbelief. We, as movie goers, buy into that unspoken contract each time we pay for a ticket. But the thing about willing suspension of disbelief is, we're willing to believe in a LOT of things for the sake of appreciating a story (space operas, for example), but you had damn well better get the little shit right.
Case in point: When sitting in the theater with a friend watching Paul Verhoeven's faux-propaganda masterpiece Starship Troopers, we sat in rapt attention while an army of Space Marines fought with a planet of impossibly sized bugs so they could capture one to be handed over to the military psychics. All disbelief was willingly suspended until this scene.
My friend turned to me and snorted at the idea of three people not only outrunning an explosion, but turning and looking back several times to check their progress. It didn't completely ruin the movie for us, but it certainly pulled you out of the moment of the scene. Explosions are an especially common example. One of the things that made Scifi fanboys shoot a big creamy one over Joss Whedon's wildly under-appreciated Firefly was the fact that he shot all of his space action sequences with no sound. Because there's no fucking sound in space.
But I've gotten off track.
What does ANY of the above have to do with Law Abiding Citizen, you might be wondering. Well at the films heart, there's actually a really excellent story idea. And the whole thing gets blown 11 minutes in, when Jamie Foxx's Assistant DA character shakes hands with a convicted murderer.
The way the film kick off is that King Leonidas' family gets killed by a couple of burglars. After watching his family die but surviving his own wounds, his majesty has to then watch the ensuing legal wrangling as the man who actually did all the killing makes a deal with Ray Charles to pin the murders on his accomplice. In exchange for throwing his buddy under the bus, the real killer pleads guilty to murder in the third degree and will serve a few years in prison while his partner gets the death penalty. This makes Leonidas mad. Realllly mad. And the image that burns into his mind is one of Ray Charles standing on the steps of the courthouse. See, he's there explaining the deal to reporters and up walks his new best friend the murderer with the cops who are supposed to be taking him back to jail. He holds out his hand in a mock show of friendship and Ray Charles shakes it.
RIGHT THERE!
There is so much wrong with that ONE scene, that the wheels came right off this wagon for me. Quick, bring up Google in a different window. Now do a search and find me a photo of a prosecuting attorney shaking hands with the dude he's sending to jail. I'll wait. I've got some chips here.
It's damn hard to find, right? Because it doesn't happen! See, the thing is, even though the DA cut a deal, and even though one guy is helping send another guy to death row, none of that changes the fact that the first guy is STILL being convicted of murder. And DAs don't like to take pictures shaking hands with murderers. And that's without bringing up questions like "why was this convicted murderer allowed within 10 feet of the man who's currently bragging to the press about sending him to prison?" And "Why was the convicted murderer being brought out the front doors anyway?" So much wrong with that scene.
"But so what?" You might be saying. "That's one scene in a 90 minute film. You can't let one thing ruin the whole movie." Oh friends, I didn't. The film resumed getting the small things wrong just four minutes later, when we fast forward 10 years and we see Ray Charles' daughter go to a music recital, pick up a cello and proceed to rock that shit like she's Yo-Yo Ma. Throughout the film, Director F. Gary Gray continues to botch the little stuff which, unfortunately, has the effect of underscoring just how preposterous the big stuff--the stuff for which we'd normally try and suspend our disbelief--really is.
So King Leonidas goes off the deep end and hatches a grand plan to get revenge on the DA's office, the people who killed his family, the judge, the cops, random inmates, the entire city of Philadelphia...pretty much everyone. It's a plan that involves getting arrested for one murder, so he can go to jail, so he can break out of jail, so he can commit MORE murders...so he can try and get the DA to make a deal to let him out of jail.
And just so things can begin as weirdly as possible, the whole plan starts like this.
WHY DID THAT HAVE TO HAPPEN?? Why is he naked???
Since we've already committed this blog entry to "tl;dr" territory, allow me to digress for one more moment here: Is there an actor today with a more mis-matched head and body than Gerard Butler? I mean, you look at a head shot and--while he certainly doesn't look fat or anything--he seems like a guy who knows his way around a beer and a couch.
But then he takes off his shirt (and he WILL take off his shirt; it's in his rider), and it's all like KABLAM-O! He's still rocking the "300" abs.
Moving on.
So he's got a plan to kill everyone he possibly can, no matter how tenuous their connection to his family's murder and subsequent trial. This includes a half dozen random paralegals, his cell mate--who's death serves no purpose other than to get him into the right cell--and, eventually, the mayor. Which, assuming she's the same person who was mayor when the events that sent him over the edge took place, means she's serving at least her third term in that position. Not unprecedented, but just worth pointing out.
And here's the point when we stop harping on the little things and start looking at the story as a whole. Every story needs certain things. Paramount among them are people to fit the protagonist/antagonist roles. The audience needs someone to empathize with and root for. That person doesn't have to be a good guy, and he doesn't have to be nice, but he has to be there.
When it comes to "Law Abiding Citizen", it starts out pretty clean cut: Butler's character watches his family get slaughtered, then seethes with anger at the judicial system that allows the man actually responsible to serve a sentence far below what he's earned. On the flip side is Foxx's Assistant DA, who cuts a deal with a murderer in a move that (as we're hit over the head with in the exposition) is geared solely towards padding his high conviction numbers. He'd rather make a deal for one bad guy then risk a trial to get two. Fine.
But then Gray takes his film sideways on us and we watch the character we've hitched our emotional wagons to slip off the deep end in pretty stunning fashion. We try to stay with him for a bit--who WOULDN'T want to exact slow and painful revenge upon someone who killed our family--but it quickly encompasses a scale to which we're not meant to follow; our good guy is the bad guy. Even that would be fine, except for the fact that Foxx continues to play his character with the same flippant disregard that he had in the beginning of the film and it sets us adrift emotionally. We don't really care about Foxx's character, and we can't care about Gerard's. With no emotional anchor, the film loses all investment and becomes a bunch of random violence that serves only to push us to the next ridiculous scene, rather than to validate our feelings one way or the other.
Gerard is a better actor than his abs would allow you to believe. His biggest flaw as a professional is an apparent ignorance of the fact that he's allowed to say "no" to a script now and then. As for Foxx, while he's certainly a multi-talented dude, he's definitely got his shortcomings. He's musically gifted; he can sing, dance, and is spot on with his impressions (he won an Oscar for one). But if he's not aping someone else, his artistic range is somewhat limited.
My point is that the actors, despite their limitations, do the best they can with what they were given. The blame for this movie turning into a gigantic piece of shit rests completely with Director Gray and writer Kurt Wimmer (who's list of previous credits is rife with films that were brimming with promise and suffered mightily from scripts that were half baked and poorly constructed). This brings us back to my original point.
When you've got a plot that so obviously hinges on such a high number of ridiculous and improbable events--things you're specifically counting on an audience letting slide--it becomes that much more important to meet them half way and to keep the world surrounding those events as "real" as possible. Which is why things like the Assistant DA shaking hands with a convicted murderer or a 10 year old girl playing the cello like she's Rainman counting cards makes it so difficult to swallow the idea of a millionaire ex-black operative buying a ware house next to a prison so he can tunnel underneath the walls and into the solitary holding cells, then commit a crime and get sent to the same prison so he can get put INTO solitary so he can sneak OUT of prison through the tunnels he built...
And it's not a matter of me just not wanting to go along because I feel like some contract has been broken; it's a systemic thing. Once a movie puts you in a position to question small things, it's an easy slope to move on to questioning the things the film centers around. When that happens, the audience is less likely to go on your ride at all.
A good example of this can be found in the Die Hard films. In the first Die Hard, John McClane is introduced to us as efficiently as possible. We see him arriving in LA to spend Christmas with his wife, we see where she works, we meet everyone we need to and there's very little about the story set up prior to Hans Gruber's takeover of the Nakatomi Tower to question. Therefore, when the first belief-suspending coincidence comes up (that John happens to be in the same building Gruber is taking over and happens to be the one person the bad guys don't find when they seize control), we're willing to take that ride. Everything after that is gravy (including more explosion shenanigans).
But as the series progressed, while the method for telling the stories remained pretty much the same, the character of John McClane evolved from "NYPD Everyman" to some kind of GI Joe action hero, until the fourth installment has him killing a helicopter with a car.
So, getting back to this crapfest, when you find yourself starting a movie off asking questions like "why is that murderer standing on the courthouse steps", it gets you in the frame of mind to KEEP asking questions, which leads to things like "why couldn't he do this whole plan from his living room?"
In fact, it seems like the story could have been much more taut if he had conducted the whole plan from his living room. The premise given for his anger is the loopholes and legal procedures that allowed a murderer to walk free after a short jail term. If the movie had spent 90 minutes showing Butler's character killing person after person, yet doing so in a ways that made it impossible for any strong charges to be brought against him, it would have been a film about an angry (crazy) man underscoring the flaws in an imperfect system that's heavily weighted in favor of those who can work it.
I wanted this movie to be better than I suspected it was going to be. It's not like I went to the video store thinking "I kind of want to be frustrated and intellectually insulted for a couple hours", but that's what happened. Which is my clumsy way of segueing into my final point.
As a friend of mine pointed out: "The point of a movie is to entertain. It did its job. Despite being moderately intelligent, I was still entertained by it. I'd call it a 'fun movie', but not a 'good film.'"
There are plenty of stupid movies out there and there's a segment of the population who'll pay to see them. But I don't think that should be allowed to be a viable defense. One of the interesting bi-products of (the perception of) unfettered freedom in America has been the willingness to continually dumb-down our society. This is largely a capitalistic move. In a effort to cash in on the knuckle dragging masses, the lowest common denominator continues to be lowered. The result is that, rather than our arts and entertainment raising the level of our thought and discourse, we allow our bottom feeders to drag the entertainment level down to them. Art imitates life, life reflects art, until we've reached a point in society where people will go on TV for free for the chance to catch an STD from Tila Tequila, and we actually have politicians talking about an opposing politician's extensive education like it's a bad thing.
Look, I'm not saying that every film that comes out needs to be "Primer"; far more people have seen "The Lord of the Rings" than "Le Cercle Rouge" and I'm 100% OK with that. But when Hollywood stands over our collective chests, clenches it's eyes shut and drops a cinematic Cleveland Steamer for us to enjoy, I'm going to revel in my God-given right to mock people who sit in the front row and 'tard clap for it.
No, despite my most ardent wishes, Hollywood does not have a social responsibility to help make us a smarter, more rounded society. And, despite my deepest desires, mainstream films and video games will never reach their true artistic potential because of it. But that's the world we live in, and you don't have to join me in my disappointment. But that won't stop a few of us from fighting the good fight.
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