Last fall everyone was going gaga over Pulp Fiction, that snappy Quentin Tarantino flick that stuck actors in unusual material that wasnΓÇÖt predictable. It cost something like $100 to make and grossed about $100 million.
When it comes to Sunday (Thursday?) night television, everyone goes gaga over Murder She Wrote. Even after about 100 years on the air, Angela Lansbury still manages to keep a huge ­ mostly geriatric ­ audience glued to its dentures to see how Jessica will solve the episode’s “coincidental” murder case.
Both packages have some noble qualities. In the case of PF, thereΓÇÖs sharp writing and unexpected twists and turns. In MSWΓÇÖs case, thereΓÇÖs a strong older, female character going to the head of the class as an amateur Einstein of Crime Solvation. But both of these, and so many other products of American entertainment, are stuck in the realm of guns and murder, realms that are extremely uncommon for most people. Yet, surveying these kinds of movies and television show, youΓÇÖd think that 95% of Americans were either law enforcement officers or hardened criminals. But it ainΓÇÖt so!
Is it?
I donΓÇÖt own a gun. The last time I shot a real one was about eight years ago. Nobody I know (well) owns a gun. I donΓÇÖt know any murder victims, and IΓÇÖm not about to kill my boss or mailman. But the brain-numb Hollywood writing dynasty canΓÇÖt seem to get guns out of its butt! To pump some adrenaline, or give a talented actor a reason to act, they canΓÇÖt seem to see beyond the police department or the gun rack.
As Michael Moriarty (sp?), ex-star of NBCΓÇÖs Law & Order stated in a pre-ΓÇ£I-disagree-with-Janet-Reno-
therefore-IΓÇÖm-firedΓÇ¥ talk, action and adventure in films and television makes adrenaline pump. For those of us in generally risk-free professions, and without hobbies like parachute-less sky diving, this kind of entertainment makes the heart beat rise along with the volume of the ΓÇ£Wow!ΓÇ¥s. ItΓÇÖs true: BANG BANG = pump pump. But there is such similarity to this stuff, and I canΓÇÖt relate to it anymore.
If that cinematic adrenaline pumpage tastes good to you, try this to see my point: Think of your top ten favorite films overall. Drop all titles with guns (phasers and blasters count as guns). What happens to the list? Chances are it shrinks like a minimum wage paycheck after Ferrari shopping. For extra-credit, think of ten action-adventure films without guns. That leaves you with football and Wiggly Panda Pete movies. See the point?
Conservatives claim that entertainment-based murders and violence contribute to real murders and violence. I make no such claims. And my gripe isnΓÇÖt even based on feeling uncomfortable while watching some stud muffin peel the skin off a rape victim, although I have been ΓÇ£ickΓÇ¥ed by it. Instead IΓÇÖm saying that the big entertainment machine is stuck in BANG BANG mode, and IΓÇÖm getting bored.
Pump my adrenaline without cocking a pistol. Intrigue me without a corpse. There must be other things that are exciting, no?
Creativity, thine originality donΓÇÖt live in this town no more, it seems.
