How come in Hollywood movies, when you turn on the TV, whatever you are interested in seeing on the news is always on at that moment?
Or that if you need a cab, you just go to the curb and raise your arm, and you have one within five seconds?
Not even the worst novelist would write stories like that, and it may be part of the reason some people have trouble respecting Hollywood. (Not me though.)
Update: Featured comment by Pascal:
Actually, this is one of the ideas I've already written down for later use. Once, I saw an "action" movie that was so pathetic and cliché, that I considered writing a novel version of it, in a sarcastic tone. It would go something like this :
"The poor, foolish Pitystani rebels! Challenging Brad Brannigan like this on a bad hair day! He jumped from his cover in disdain, and calmly walked forward to the fortified HQ, one heavy machine gun in each hand, spraying the charging fanaticized enemies and mowing them down, wave after wave, sneering at the hail of bulets which kept missing him by a mile, their years-long brainwashing hardly a match for the holy panic that his mere heroic sight filled their bearded hearts with.
The mortar shells falling all around him in clouds of smoke didn't even make him flinch. He was a one-man army, out for revenge, justice, and the American way. His Ray-Bans glistened superbly under the faint crescent moon's light. His machine guns empty, he paused and looked at them while the soldiers kept firing at him, so intensely that he had to take a small step sideways. He tossed them on the dusty ground, took out his gun in one hand, and started making ammo count by downing at least three foes with each bullet, not bothering to really aim, while tossing grenades like baseballs, each one sending a dozen commies screaming in the air. His red-hot handgun jammed after the 75th bullet, so he grabbed his trusty army knife, and plowed through the hordes of heavily armed terrorists, all way too terrified to even think of opening fire before he came close and cut them in half with his casual swings. The deaths of his whole platoon would soon be avenged. Smith, Jones, Jackson, Sanchez, Lee... All those beloved generic characters would not have died in vain.
But for what he did to his goldfish, Bou Guimahn would suffer. A lot. His knife would lose its edge before he got to the scumbag, but he still had a broken toothpick in his front pocket. The Metal Gear nuclear tank of the infamous villain didn't stand a chance. Its radar could only lock on metallic weapons..."
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Eolake again:
One of my friends stopped watching action movies with me because I always predicted who'd die. If they are too nice, have no important function, and especially if they have doubts, they are dead for sure.
8 comments:
... and when you accidentally overhear a conversation, how come the main point always starts at the moment you tune in?
Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki was once asked if he had intended his movies to be an alternative to Hollywood films. He replied that his respect for Hollywood is so low that he doesn't even want to produce alternatives for it.
Hollywood isn't real life. It's all script. All that glitters isn't gold.
And when you do reach the pinnacle, then what? Another mercedes or fashion queen? Define happiness?
I'd rather have contentment.
Terry
(From the Divided States of America.)
I hadn't thought much about it, but you're right .. sometimes it's an all-consuming event, like the family members crowded around TV sets on 9/11 in Oliver Stone's "WTC," but most of the time it makes little sense at all
And, all phone numbers begin with 555. [Except in Hell, of course!] Which means there are only 10.000 telephones in one whole damn U.S. city...
"It's a small world after all..."
I think those awesome extra-ammo guns first appeared with a variation from Mr Colt's famous model. B&W movies already amazed us with six-shooters that could shoot up to 17 rounds without being reloaded. (Naah! 18 would've been too obvious, d'uh!)
And how many heroes shoot at an enemy in a heartbeat and ever miss?
(Hoo, boy, is this going to be a creative thread! Just wait till Adam gets here. Ta-da-da-dat-Adam!)
"(Not me though.)"
So, Eolake, you have no trouble respecting Hollywood? How, um, "interesting". Now, how about you lie down and start telling me about your childhood, Herr Stobblehouse, ya?
"Hollywood isn't real life."
WHAAAAAAT?!?!? Oh, my! Next thing you know, everything you see or hear on TV might not actually be guaranteed authentic!
(Well, except for Pres. Bush's speeches, of course. At least, him we can always trust.)
"Reel Fanatic said...
I hadn't thought much about it, but"...
I'm wondering just how opportune your name is, RF.
But then, fanatics don't ALWAYS think much. Some of them tend to be slightly distracted... ;-)
So, let's welcome our first Reelian on the blog! :-D
"Lastly; why are the bad guys always such poor shots?"
Things aren't always what they seem. In film company-supervised videogame adaptation of The Godfather, no vehicle is strangely resilient, and enemies can sometimes kill you with one single shotgun blast. Also, even with headshots, they don't always die with one bullet.
Of course, videogames are even less plausible than cinema when it comes to nudity and $e*... Still, as a guy I don't really resent the over-bouncy you-know-whats in Dead Or Alive and Rumble Roses. ;-)
[See this excellent page and this one on RPG clichés. Very funny.]
"So, Eolake, you have no trouble respecting Hollywood?"
Nope.
Regarded as a pop culture machine, they do fantastic work. I usually enjoy it full tilt. And occasionally they will even make important art as well.
"Not even the worst novelist would write stories like that"
Actually, this is one of the ideas I've already written down for later use. Once, I saw an "action" movie that was so pathetic and cliché, that I considered writing a novel version of it, in a sarcastic tone. It would go something like this :
"The poor, foolish Pitystani rebels! Challenging Brad Brannigan like this on a bad hair day! He jumped from his cover in disdain, and calmly walked forward to the fortified HQ, one heavy machine gun in each hand, spraying the charging fanaticized enemies and mowing them down, wave after wave, sneering at the hail of bulets which kept missing him by a mile, their years-long brainwashing hardly a match for the holy panic that his mere heroic sight filled their bearded hearts with.
The mortar shells falling all around him in clouds of smoke didn't even make him flinch. He was a one-man army, out for revenge, justice, and the American way. His Ray-Bans glistened superbly under the faint crescent moon's light. His machine guns empty, he paused and looked at them while the soldiers kept firing at him, so intensely that he had to take a small step sideways. He tossed them on the dusty ground, took out his gun in one hand, and started making ammo count by downing at least three foes with each bullet, not bothering to really aim, while tossing grenades like baseballs, each one sending a dozen commies screaming in the air. His red-hot handgun jammed after the 75th bullet, so he grabbed his trusty army knife, and plowed through the hordes of heavily armed terrorists, all way too terrified to even think of opening fire before he came close and cut them in half with his casual swings. The deaths of his whole platoon would soon be avenged. Smith, Jones, Jackson, Sanchez, Lee... All those beloved generic characters would not have died in vain.
But for what he did to his goldfish, Bou Guimahn would suffer. A lot. His kife would lose its edge before he got to the scumbag, but he still had a broken toothpick in his front pocket. The Metal Gear nuclear tank of the infamous villain didn't stand a chance. Its radar could only lock on metallic weapons..."
Honestly? Yes, the movie WAS that bad. Almost. Like "Hot Shots" without the parody. I'm thinking of entering the Bulwer-Lytton contest.
"One of my friends stopped watching action movies with me because I always predicted who'd die."
Eolake, some Hollywood guys were looking for you. BTW, what does "suppeena" mean? ;-)
I wondered for years how Butch and Sundance got out of this one alive. Then I learned I had to wait for a sequel/remake for History to change.
Hollywood is awesomely powerful in accomplishing that. H.G. Wells, eat your heart out!
P.S.: The heroes dying in the end, how gauchely unconventional is THAT? Boo! (Hiss)
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