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I just watched The Craft.
Teens in Charge
I wasted a good couple of days on it, pausing the stream to identify actresses, cross-reference other roles … I used to pride myself on the number and variety of great movies I’d logged in a lifetime of time wasting: now I confess to an appetite, an appreciation of trash: nitwit fantasies, teens in charge movies, high school movies, teen witches … Hollywood shows us what we want to pretend to believe as well as any church or bible ever did: and it’s just fabulous to watch the fantasies change from year to decade to century.
The older I get the more I have to say, the less time I have to say it, the less patience to try to say it well: especially as few know better than I how the majority gangs up on quality, how the deluded monopolize, colonize the beliefs budget. I should pat myself on the back if I get any part of it half-way right.
First a string of points, spell out, illustrate, develop, clarify later:
Reference Heathers, Clueless … Mean Girls … There’s even a movie called Teen Witch!
Cross-reference: check out the kilted cuties fantasized as martial artists in Tarantino’s Kill Bill!
Oo, those kilts!
Extending the same point: Notice that the universe, physics, God are set to turn a blind eye to this behavior: in politics there are an infinite number of countries to exploit to pay the bill: Valley Girl detonates a nuke? It’s OK, build a new pipeline in Uganda, hire another spin doctor.
At the end of The Craft Nancy, the evil teen witch, has all her magic backfire: she gets slammed by a bureau, smashes the mirror … But what’s the result? She gets strapped down to a looney bed in a looney bin! At whose expense? Public? No matter what she did at home couldn’t possibly waste resources at the rate a lock-em-up health institution will. (So it’s a happy ending! Poland pays Hitler’s bills.)
Uh oh, gibberish? I’ll straighten it out, if I live long enough.
I wish I could remember the name of a spoiled rotten teen Valley flick from decades ago: a secondary character is an ugly, clumsy, fat, freckled kid. This oaf has a jar of jelly beans bigger than Reagan kept in the White House. The klutz spills the jar, jelly beans everywhere, all over his parents’ marble palace marble floors. Oh, whoops! It’s OK, the butler, the valet instantly sweep everything up, conquer another Uganda, produce another jorum of jelly beans: learn nothing, teach nothing.
Neve Campbell here did as good a job as a female teen star possibly could hamming it up like Jack Nicholson in the adult witch movie, Witches of Eastwick.
In physics, if only there really were such a thing as science, something that couldn’t be squelched and perverted by state supervision, entropy is absolute: disorder, gradually, inevitably takes over from any particular order; but not in Hollywood. In trash movies, mama changing diapers, finding someone to pay the bill, is infinite: like God’s mercy in the fantasy church.
I especially love how Hollywood culture (accurately) portrays wiccan as older than Christiantiy; but it also perpetually posits Christianity as the defalt religion, the set of beliefs that everyone (in this culture) will return to after everything else has been destroyed: nothing learned, nothing taught.
Once upon a time I wasted a couple of hours with my eyes glued to Jenny Agittur’s little skirt in Walkabout. I knew they’d never show her snatch, but I couldn’t help staring, waiting, hoping. And how am I different from you? Not a bit. And what if they had let slip a square centimeter of panty crotch? It’s not pussy, it’s not Jenny, it’s just light on a screen.
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