Jack Black: Renaissance Man

              As of Friday, I am officially done with the Break Bad series here on this blog, until the last episode in some nebulous time in 2013 when it will be back, and I will reflect on the series as a whole and it’s Shakespeareaness.  Now the question becomes: Why? Why did I cover this show, and why am I so passionate about it when I am supposed to be an English guy and love the written word and forsake all these other shows.

                Because Breaking Bad is literature. That sound you heard was the heart of every “serious” literature student and everyone who enjoys Breaking Bad as entertainment breaking at once. Enjoy it. Hear the snap. Love the snap. Feast on the snap.

                This is a live-action example of something I have discussed before, that all classic literature at one point started as popular entertainment. We know that William Shakespeare existed because he was popular, just as we know with Ben Johnson, Christopher Marlowe, Aristophanes, and future generations will know of the great Renaissance man that was Jack Black. (He can sing, dance, and act, people!) Breaking Bad is an example of that. It is popular, but it is also so ripe with imagery, symbols and story that it rightfully should be explored. It should be studied.

                If you think about it, television shows are still a newish medium that are being explored an experimented with in different ways. Small segments of entertainment have been around for a while (from radio shows to travelling roadside plays to YouTube clips) but the idea of a consumable half hour or hour long program is still a new idea that is being constantly reinvented. Some of those ways work. Some of them fail miserably. Some of them are like Lost and two years after it’s over people still can’t tell you if it worked or not. Some of them create beautifully messed up interesting stories with deep characters and moral quandaries that are begging to be answered, like Breaking Bad or Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

                So is Breaking Bad considered literature? Yes. It should be. As I aptly have demonstrated, it has all of the elements that were available in Shakespeare’s writing, just with more meth. (I can’t even say, “but with more brutal killing” because Shakespeare has everyone beat on that.) Why shouldn’t we study a TV show or discount it for the sole reason that it’s “television”?

                Reading is important. It’s art, but it’s important to remember at times it’s not the ONLY source of art.

To the Wonder of the Tree of Life Fountain

   Recently those of us who obsessively follow movie news have been treated to the news that the new Terrence Malick movie To The Wonder has met with “divided” reviews. The “divided” is in quotes (you can reference that in this sentence) appears to be “critics” vs. “audience members.” Basically it boils down to the fact that the critics love it, and the audience... may not like it so much. (I personally think it should be settled with pistols at dawn.)

    I bring this up because it reminds me of an incident that happened back before I started this blog, which is something that I would have totally written about had it existed back then. Back in February, I went to go see the “AMC Oscar Showcase” which shows all of the movies that were nominated for an Oscar in one 24 hour glorious marathon. (I will be marathoning again this year, so look for that!) But one of the movies was Terrence Malick’s last movie Tree Of Life. I commented that I didn’t enjoy it. I was immediately told that I was “watching it wrong” (I should have watched it with my feet?) and that I didn’t “understand what he was trying to say.”

    Here’s the thing. I did understand what Malick was trying to do. I understood the story, I just didn’t like how he went about it. Long nature shots, a listing voice over, Sean Penn wandering around, and a story done in flashback that was supposed to represent a sort of coming of age, sort of compassion vs. cruelty that everyone goes through. Oh, and Jessica Chastain flying and rotating in the light. I just didn’t like it. I felt it was what happened when you got a film student, gave him Brad Pitt and a budget, and told him to cut loose. And when I tried to say I didn’t think it was a good movie, I was attacked. (Not literally, but you get what I’m saying.)

    Now these audience members are being attacked by more critics who claim they “don’t get it.” (ignoring the fact that movies are made for people seeing them.) But the whole thing goes with what I’m asking all along: What is art? Who says what is art and what is good. Here we have an audience that hates it, and a bunch of critics that love it. So, who is right?
 
   But, this little skirmish points out what I am saying all along: Who is it that determines that something is literary? That group of critics? The Audience? If I can find meaning in a book, but not in a "classic" then don't I determine what I can find?

    I don’t have an answer. What? Yes, I don’t currently have an answer.  That's the point. I can't determine what you will get out of something. These movies, and the work of Terrence Malick clearly prove that. There are a vocal group of people who don’t like it. There are a group of people who do.  Neither is wrong. Both have valid arguments. And just because someone gets something, or doesn't get something out of a movie doesn't invalidate your opinion of it. At this point I’m just sort of writing in circles. (Like a Terrence Malick film!)

    But for now, let's just forget the debate. I’m going to go watch the Fountain again. (Yes. I know he didn't work on that movie. I just liked it better.)