Bullshit of the Highest Order

2010 has been a terrible year for film. It's a sad fact. True, there has been a few glimmering spots of light in the darkness though, with Inception, The Social Network, Winter's Bone, Toy Story 3, How To Train Your Dragon. But those dozen or so quality films were only a pin-drop compared to the deluge of utter shit that graced our screens.

Let me give you a quick recap: Valentine's Day, Cop Out, Remember Me, Clash of the Titans, Furry Vengeance, A Nightmare on Elmstreet, Shrek Forever After, Sex and the City 2, Marmaduke, Jonah Hex, Grown Ups, The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Cats & Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore, Charlie St. Cloud, Vampires Suck, Resident Evil: Afterlife, Alpha and Omega, Skyline.
Oh God, why did I type that all out...I can feel my soul shriveling and turning as black and cold as the pitiless depths of space-

So over the last few weeks, I found myself obsessively searching for nearby showtimes for Danny Boyle's 127 Hours. The critical reception for the film has been glowing, and the Academy Award clamor is strong, especially for James Franco's performance. However, my search has been fruitless. The film is not - and more than likely will not ever - play in my area. It's as simple as that.

But then again, it's not as simple as that. It turns out that both Black Swan and The King's Speech will be doing much the same. They'll both be getting the limited release treatment, in which they'll dance around the far outskirts of the surrounding areas and then vanish within mere weeks. I fear this is the start of a trend when it comes to smaller, less-commercial films.

(UPDATE: It turns out Black Swan will actually be coming to Toledo after all. Well, that's a good start. I hope that the film's director Darren Aronofsky can finally move out from under the "undetermined" status I currently have him under. Much to my embarrassment, I have yet to see Pi, Requiem for a Dream, or The Wrestler. The only film of his I've seen, The Fountain, left a very foul taste in my mouth.)

It appears that the reason behind this is that these films do not play to big audiences. There is no major profit to be had from intellect or artistic merit. They aren't filled with eye-raping 3D gimmickry, farting animals, Adam Sandler, or CGI monstrosities smashing together as if held in the hands of a gigantic retarded child.

So, here is my honest and heart-felt plea: think before you open your wallets. Where your money goes is what guides the powers that be. Paying for Transformers will only beget more Transformers, a horrible lesson I learned first-hand. From now on think of buying tickets in the same way you fill out ballots. We don't have to have shitty outcomes if we stop making terrible choices in the first place.

In the meantime, this holiday season we will be treated to a few extra screens of Tron Legacy, Yogi Bear, Little Fockers, and Gulliver's Travels.

Please save us, Coen Bros.

Rekindled

For the past three years, I have tortured myself over the same question. And this question always came around at this time of the year, when my pockets began to fill with excess cash in preparation for the oncoming holiday season.

"Since I am an avid reader, why not buy a Kindle?"

My initial answer?

I didn't like the Kindle when I first laid eyes upon it.

Look at that smug son of a bitch with all of its fancy buttons.

It was a knee-jerk reaction.

This was an object that was threatening to change everything. Kindle-advocates started dreamily talking about a future of digitized libraries, and how it would effectively stop the need to use paper. Everything we knew - the entire written history of mankind - would one day be contained within a single little device. With all of the physical space it could save, there would never be any need for actual library buildings ever again.

What seemed like an idealistic utopia to others sounded more like some sort of a post-apocalyptic techno-hellhole to me.

I tend to overreact.

There was no way I could imagine a world without books - old-fashioned books with covers both hard and soft, and text printed out upon their pulpy pages. I couldn't imagine buying a new book without that new book smell, or the satisfying crack of new binding. All of the ritual and pride that comes with buying a new book and finding a place for it on my shelves would be gone. It was horrifying.

My reverence for the old form of books stemmed from my grade school years. I wasn't a particularly outgoing child - unless you consider intermittent chatter about dinosaurs and planets to be outgoing. (Although I still find those things to be fine conversational topics, but I digress.) I was horribly shy, introverted, clumsy, and exceptionally terrible at sports. With little interest in the hustle and bustle of the playground, I naturally gravitated towards the library. It was as if the Gods of Literature had singled me out and groomed me into being an ideal bookworm.

When I started to read my first novel-sized book and realized that it was written by an actual person and hadn't just magically materialized itself onto a shelf, I was awestruck. I couldn't imagine the tremendous amount of sheer creativity and fortitude a single person had to contain to make one. Through reading not only did I vicariously live out a multitude of incredible adventures, but I felt an intimate connection to a wealth of great minds and imaginative storytellers who told them.

I tried to hold my resolve. I told myself I wouldn't ever buy a Kindle.

So, what broke me?

I am the product of a technologically-dependent generation. I grew up with all sorts of gadgets in my home – raised on a possibly unhealthy diet of Nintendo – and I got to witness the personal computer become a staple in every household.

Over the course my lifetime thus far, the world has entered into a new digital age.

The proliferation of technology is growing at an exceedingly fast rate. In 2002, only 19% of the world owned cellphones. That number is now at 67%. Within that same time span, the amount of internet users rose from 631 million to 1.8 billion. Twitter feeds have invaded our news channels. Everybody you could possibly know has a Facebook page. You can hardly throw a rock without hitting a Macbook, Xbox, Blu Ray player, iPod, iPhone, iPad, or any other iWhateverthefuck.

Pictured: An iWhateverthefuck. The worst part? It's self-aware.

Admittedly, I have an almost instinctual interest in these types of things. Through experiencing this ongoing evolution in technology, I have learned that change is unavoidable after a certain period of time, no matter how hesitant we are towards accepting it. And I have also learned that change is neither good nor bad. It just is. For all that is lost, there are often new gains to be found.

So it wasn't before my initial distrust faded away, and my curiosity finally gave into the mystique of this new gadget.

Then when I started to learn more about the Kindle, I realized just how goddamn cool it was. It was thin and light-weight, hardly weighing half a pound. Books can be ordered within seconds through a wireless connection. The font size is customizable and there's an option to add non-permanent highlights and notes. It has two built-in dictionaries that you can easily access in the middle of reading, just in case you come upon an unfamiliar word.

Even the screen itself is something of a wonder. It's actually not so much a screen as it is an electronic sheet of paper that uses actual ink particles. The final result is nearly indistinguishable from actual print, even a magnified level. This is how this process works, as succinctly described by the E-Ink Corporation’s website: 

"The principal components of electronic ink are millions of tiny microcapsules, about the diameter of a human hair. In one incarnation, each microcapsule contains positively charged white particles and negatively charged black particles suspended in a clear fluid. When a negative electric field is applied, the white particles move to the top of the microcapsule to become visible to the reader. This makes the surface appear white at that location. At the same time, an opposite electric field pulls the black particles to the bottom of the microcapsules where they are hidden. By reversing this process, the black particles appear at the top of the capsule, which now makes the surface appear dark at that location."

I was reminded of a quote attributed to Arthur C. Clarke that says “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” 

What sorcery is this?!