Mumbo-Jumbo and Shite Films

This blog has been inspired by AHD.

I've had just about enough of horrible, horrible filmic diarrhea masquerading as 'Art-house.' Case in point, Broken Flowers. What a load of meaningless, self-indulgent rubbish. And that's just the title.

I saw it coming. Reviews of Lost in Translation emphasised - quite justifiably - the performance of Bill Murray as the guiding light of the film (while I disagree, considering the cinematography and absolutely flawless soundtrack to be the real heroes of the tale, I knew what the critics meant), applauding his knowing melancholia, and the understated magic of his portrayal of a Hollywood washout who realises his best days are well behind him and the worst is yet to come. I KNEW that this would make Murray lazy. And I knew that eventually I'd be vindicated.

Broken Flowers is heralded as evidence of Bill Murray taking deadpan to a new level. I believe it is evidence that Jim Jarmusch is a prick. No plot, no story, no characters of ANY substance, and certainly no empathy. Easily the worst film I've seen in years. And I've seen Final Destination 2. Do not waste your time, money and pompous sensibilities on this film.

Re-reading Francis Wheen's excellent 'How Mumbo-Jumbo Conquered the World.' We're living in an age where, if one desires to be a best-selling author, all one needs to do is release a mocking diatrible against George Bush, which is a bit like slagging off a baby for being immobile; simple, but pointless. Wheen on the other hand, is just so witty, intelligent and thorough that his evidence reinforces his convictions and even makes you think that we can change. My head tells me we can't. My heart yearns otherwise