Generation Why Bother?

I began watching the movie Submarine today. I made it to the twenty minute mark before I decided I was wasting my time. Maybe my reasons for not liking the movie are too personal. I'm sure it's a fine film. But to me: it was painfully obvious that the director/writer (whoever I can point the finger at) was attempting to recreate The Royal Tenenbaums and Harold and Maude without actually offering anything interesting or new.

I understand that, to an extent, everything--every creative work--is a re-hashing and that nothing is truly original. But: I think the problem with my generation is that we refuse to think for ourselves--to find our own voice. Which is why there's such a disgusting proliferation of bad-on-purpsose movies and remakes and B-movies released by A-movie studios made to look like B-movies. I mean I get it. I understand that a lot of these movies are homages: but I don't think an homage alone really means anything. The only thing these movies (and this extends into music and other forms of art right now) are saying, really: is that the people involved really liked how someone did what they're trying to do. And that's not enough to make a compelling product.

I think I first noticed this phenomenon when I saw the movie Super 8, which I knew going into it was a deliberate homage to Steven Spielberg movies from the eighties. What I didn't know going into it, however, was that that was all it was--and nothing more. An homage for the sake of creating an homage. An imperfect mirroring--nostalgia for the sake of nostalgia. The movie succeeded in looking like a Steven Spielberg movie from the eighties. The storyline was similar. There direction was similar. But the movie failed to engage me because it simply was not a compelling film.

I feel the same thing happened with Submarine. If you'd never read the Catcher in the Rye or seen Harold and Maude or watched a Wes Anderson movie: you might think it's an ok movie. But if you've experienced any of the aforementioned things, then I don't see how you couldn't find the movie irritating beyond comprehension.

I have no problem (at least I don't think I do) with creative people wearing their influences on their sleevs. But if that's the only thing they're wearing: then they're naked and I can see them for the uninspired look-at-me hack that they are. And I think that's fair ground to dismiss thier work.

In music: I've noticed a lot of throwback artists. And this is something I started noticing before I noticed it in movies. The point being: it's everywhere now. No one wants to try to say something in a new or unique way. Everyone wants to be super-aware of what they're doing. There is so much pretense in art right now: and that's not a word I throw around just to throw around. Frankly, I don't have the stomach for it.

The thing that makes people watch bad movies (vs. bad-on-purpose movies) like the Room is that those movies had no idea at the time that they were bad. Therefore: they're funny. But when you try to make something bad on purpose or something that looks like something else from a different culture-specific or time-specific context, it just strikes me (and maybe it is just me) as disengenuous. There's no doubt in my mind that what these people are creating is genuine: that they either love or ironically love whatever it is they're referencing, but that doesn't matter because they will never be able to create the original thing again. And they know that: so why do they even bother?

In our current throwback culture, this phenomenon manifests itself in two ways: there are of course the explicit remakes. Then: there are the homage pieces. But it seems like little else is being produced.

I just hate that this is how my generation is going to be remembered culturally: as the generation that couldn't think for themselves. The generation that deliberately defined itself by the way other generations defined themselves. A facsimile generation of twee garbage.

Bottom line: I like a good impersonation as much as the next person. There's an art to recreating a certain mood. A certain atmosphere. A style. But it's not an art that has ever been (until now) taken seriously. When I think of the worst comedians: I often think of the comedians who can only do impressions. Sure, it's a talent. But is it really any more valuable than, say, being able to tie a cherry stem with your tongue or some other natural talent? Why not take advantage of that talent--apply some actual thought to what you're doing--and create something else--something insightful, something honest, human and unique. The only thing honest or human about homages are that they signify on one level that the creative people in charge like something. And...so what? I like stuff, too. I like the Shining. Say I did a shot-for-shot remake of the Shining. Nay. I'll take it one step further: Say the Shining was a painting and I was able to recreate a photo-quality reproduction of that painting. What is the merit in that? Is it enough to make it worth anything. Would anyone pay to see my painting of the Shining vs. the original? Maybe. I don't know. Like I said: mimicry is a talent whose appeal extends only so far. There is little depth to mimicry--to recreating something. And, I imagine, the reason impressionists and the like are never celebrated for too long--are never remembered--is because people see it for what it is: a talent. Nothing more. Someone who is able to take one thing and do it again.

So. I don't know. I like Harold and Maude. I like the Royal Tenenbaums. I like Catcher in the Rye. But those things are all good enough on their own. They don't need to be recreated. They don't need to be rehashed--and rehashed so transparently. But they do get continuously rehashed. Perks of A Wallfower, anyone? I understand why. But I'm sick of people praising these deliberate re-hashing and I refuse to jump on board with the rest of my generation and celebrate things that I've seen done better (or worse, because they were bad on accident) before.

I don’t know why I’ve lately felt so unable to express myself. These little flare-ups happen in regular cycles—about once a month now. And I can usually work through them. Or: they go away. But this one has been the most prolonged. And it hasn’t been limited to expressing myself in writing or being able to articulate my thoughts when I have the time to actually think about how I feel. I can’t express myself verbally either. Or: at least, I don’t think I can.

Is it really all in my head?

I think I psych myself out by over-thinking it: what I intend to say. I can’t just commit to any one opinion. And I’m not one of those people who can just open up their mouth and the words come gushing out. I don’t know how they do it. They make it seem so effortless. It’s not that what they’re saying is profound: or anything I haven’t thought of before. They just always have something to say. It doesn’t matter what they’re responding to. They respond so quickly with a neat little aphorism or candid joke.

My problem is that I have to know exactly what I want to say before I say it. I have to check what I want to say against itself to make sure that what I want to say sounds good. There are times when I can talk somewhat freely—when I don’t feel the intense pressure I normally feel to say something funny or witty or smart. But those instances are very rare.

I used to be able to locate all that nervous energy (not knowing where the conversation would go or how the other person would respond or react to what I would say) but I no longer feel that confident in myself.

This is going to get worse before it gets better. I need a distraction.