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Page 1 of 2 WILL BELIEVE FOR FOOD
“… a million miles beyond what science understands.” David Gray Sometimes flaws can be weightless. When Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the quantum leap accelerator, we weren’t burdened with the question of why his handsome body was encased in white spandex. We didn’t sneer in armchair-Mensa disdain at the thought of synthetic fibers not fouling up a genetics-heavy leap of technology. No. Our minds were much too giddy with the delicious wonder of where Dr. Beckett would find himself, who he would become – and how, exactly, an unwittingly wayward soul might benefit from being temporarily replaced by an immaculately directed supergenius. … white spandex, we can look past – but Tribbles? Not a chance.
Theatre functions upon an idea of Suspension of Disbelief: it’s not simply a period fashion correct actress pretending to be batty – it’s a beleaguered woman who, truly, cannot wipe the blood from her hands. It is what separates a good audience member from a bad; one who takes a seat, fully willing to be transported, is a necessary addition to any performance, be it film, writing or the stage. Sometimes, it goes off without a hitch. Galaxies far, far away have been presented with little resistance. Other times… well, enormously entertaining as Mel Gibson’s faux swearing, and Joaquin Phoenix in a tin foil hat might be, the last locale in the universe water-prone aliens would infest, is this little blue marble of ours (Signs). Even then, though, I was willing. Oh, why did it have to be water, Shyamalan? Why not Hawaiian Punch, or canned cola? It burns me that such an engaging story was tailored into a shabby dressing – but I’d be game to see it again, even if I would emit audible grumbling over what, in some circles, has come to be officially known as “The Water Thing”. … which makes me considerably more lenient than many a cinematic addict. |  Hella H2O. |
When the man comes around, after being frozen for 29 years. (Late for Dinner) | This willingness to wholeheartedly dive into whatever the screen presents is also an obstacle in recommending films to casual filmgoers. For instance, how many films featuring a cryogenics plotline (and not starring Sylvester Stallone) have flown with the masses? Late for Dinner, my feel good film of choice, is routinely panned by those I subject to a viewing. In the film, two friends are, quite literally, put on ice, zipped into bags and housed in industrial-sized barrels for thirty years. Turns out, that’s a tough pill for some of the visitors to my living room to swallow, while I happily down the bottle. So happily, in fact, I never anticipated other viewers not “buying” it. |
I mean, who isn’t fond of Tom Cruise’s admirable turn as an innocent forest-dweller in the mystical foray, Legend? The benevolent lad must thwart a horned, cloven monstrosity to extricate his love from the clutches of evil. Audiences have problem with that. However, cryogenics – a legitimate, though problematic, arm of science – rings as too far-fetched. Escapism! It would seem that’s why Harry Potter flies, but Timur Bekmambetov’s Nightwatch didn’t. People don’t have to actually choose between being an obedient boy or turning their insufferable aunt into a helium balloon – but (as the beginning of Nightwatch details), one would have to execute a Herculean amount of restraint to not contact an advertised Voodoo Mamma over a girlfriend’s infidelity (check the phone book, if you don’t believe me – but remember, whether her gurgling potions work, or not: Karma’s a bitch). At some point in our lives, mortality is going to ring the bell of our consciousness, and we’ll have to seriously weigh the pros and cons of burial, cremation, or the deep freeze. Perhaps, in some thin way, “far-fetched” is a straitjacket-less way of saying, “something I’d rather not consider”. I have no problem considering (of course, I trust Icy Blue wouldn’t be a bad look for me). By the same token, I have no problem with the notion of the man in the apartment down the hall being an assassin (afterall, we’ve all heard stories about the man down the street making a nasty habit of ofting people in the night), the proverbial ax murderer in the woods, or the tooth fairy being an evil incarnate who might be leering, in wait, over my slumbering body one night. A part of my mind doesn’t differentiate: these are all scenarios I may well have to someday confront – better I learn about them before they are sprung upon me.
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Thank you so much for the kind words.
