Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Breakfast on Pluto


There's something awful about hastily drafted harsh reactions to films. There's something equally reprehensible about how lately I haven't enjoyed the movies I've had the privilege of not paying for. Blaming capitalism's distinctly efficient powers of seduction, I really never wanted to think about Breakfast on Pluto ever again.

A day later, I still find its shortcomings offensive. Briefly, the film fetishizes its protagonist's obliviousness, distorts an otherwise fascinating queer coming of age story into a flimsy decadence, and induces already thin drama to a boring genre cannibalism (history pic snacks on catholic repression while queer tragedy dines on both). At every turn the film gurgles out indescribably jagged chapters of human discomfort, and instead of calmly organizing them someone had the bad idea of splattering them about. The results are risible. People die, endure physical abuse, search for meaning in vain--and I suppressed laughter. I damn this script for conjuring up comedy in me and for promoting infelicitous scorn for a topic I care about.

It takes so much time/money/talent/vintage clothing to makes these movies, people should start reading scripts before producing them.

Breakfast on Pluto

Thursday, October 06, 2005

on Snobbery


What is the nature of snobbery? Is the oft-mocked reverse snobbery more deplorable? Does taste necessarily beget snobbery? What is the difference between taste and preference, its value-neutral cousin?

Human autonomy, from infancy to senility, constantly results in preference. Whether presented with competing alternatives or given the freedom to make selections at will, people are driven to express themselves through decisions. In every economic context and in all of the various sociopolitical and culture systems, human experience evidently requires the maintenance of personal standards.

At first blush, the assignation of snobbery is merely a response to the pervasive disequilibria in human possession. Resources are scarce (or so we're told) and thus not everyone acquires the same things. This puts everyone in a position to accuse another of being a snob, for material self-similarity seldom occurs in reality.

But matters are significantly more complex than objectively measured amounts or quality of property. Snobbery is also an attitude toward property--it is a manner of acquiring and possessing goods. The snob's defining characteristic is lending superiority to consumption. But does the snob cultivate the superiority associated with his consumption? Or is such superiority imputed by the more sparsely endowed onlooker?

It is an undeniable fact of reality that there exist different kinds of film, wine, cheese, clothing, coffee, bread, cities, art, restaurants, literature, residences, and music. The snob conflates his opinion with fact. When his personally reserved taste slides into public pronouncement, the snob offends us because he lays claim to the arbitration of taste. Nobody has time for obvious elitism.

Having just dismissed of self-declared aesthetic objectivity as snobbery, we can finally turn to reverse snobbery. In a certain sense, reverse snobbery travels along the same vector as its predecessor but with far greater magnitude. Reverse snobs are obesssed with anti-taste; for snobs, taste is far more incidental. Reverse snobs occupy the reactionary space that used to contain counter-culture.

The allegation of reverse snobbery, however, leads to a distinct paralysis. Imperiled by the potential snobbishness of every cultural moment, people spurn their checking accounts and attempt to distance themselves from what they have deemed reproachable. In so doing they further refine notions of taste and unwittingly rarefy the air they permit themselves and their conspirators to breath. This pun on the etymology of conspiracy suits reverse snobbery quite well, for such types seem even more exclusive than their grandparents.

How then can anyone avoid the snobbishness of everyday life? In capitalism, they probably can't.

With mechanical efficiency, Capitalism has probably precluded the possibility of authenticity. Political life, culture, esteem of others are all contaminated by toxic droplets of currency and the exchange it facilitates.

So that's it then. Considerations of snobbery are an invitation to paradox. The inescapable variables of material necessity, combined with the free market constant of disparity, leads to an empty universal applicability of the label (or the non-label). And like all emptied signifiers, this one is probably worth getting rid of.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

...the 1 train as apparatchik?


Lately the 1 train has been perceptively slow, and its tardiness directly correlates with its overcrowded and aggressive cargo.

I want to blame the Bush administration. I believe that Bush prefers a negligent MTA to an efficient one, not because he simply delights in the misery of others, but rather because he recognizes the typically unexploited opportunities of turning a population against itself in subtle ways.

Suggestions that Bush's political savvy might outpace his marketability have always seemed untenable. Occasion after countless occasion he prattles presidentially and pathetically--we shall not be fooled, most maintain. What if the dolt were reinscribed in Machiavellian manipulation? What if the idiot tank were the only viable breeding ground for an ungodly political dynamism?

Sometimes when I ride the 1 train it takes forever to arrive and then I sadly sardine myself amidst the flock. The other day steerage was so scrambled I had no need to touch a pole or wall, the herd helped me remain on my feet. And yet the feelings that arose in me were hardly camaraderie or companionship, communalism or compassion, but in fact a brand of xenophobia. Yes, Bush likes slow trains because it fosters xenophobias which then make prejudicial treatment of 'the other' far more palatable. By beginning several million people's day closer to several other million people, Bush undermines what ought to be collective endeavor--the commute--and distorts our view on philosophical alterity.

Instead of an homage to the stranger, the other, the train ride has become a session in larval hostility and egoism. Riding crowded trains makes it easier to resent and ultimately loathe the unknown, a process which in turn justifies the war on terror. Bush inconveniences us to render us pliable pieces of complicit citizenry...

Unsuspecting masses of the free world unite! For we approach one day when such thoughts might not only be illegal, but also outside the reach of everyday consciousness.