It might be time for you to buy a lottery ticket, because I’ve watched two movies in one week, equaling my six-month total through May 1st. Last week, from 2006, came the closest thing to a tearjerker a movie’s ever been for me.
Then yesterday, The Big Short. Film critic A.O. Scott of the New York Times summarizes:
It’s a trip. At the end, your brain hurts and you feel sick to your stomach, as can happen when too much adrenaline has been surging through your system. But that queasy, empty feeling is the point: This is a terrifically enjoyable movie that leaves you in a state of rage, nausea and despair. What is to be done with those feelings is the great moral and political challenge Mr. McKay has set for the audience, which I hope is vast and various. I don’t condone mob violence and I’m supposed to keep my political opinions to myself, but as soon as I’m done writing this I’m going out to the garage to look for a pitchfork.
Precisely. At the film’s conclusion, a banner promptly scrolled through my cranium:
“As repugnant as Donald Trump might be, and will remain, Hillary Clinton occupied a metaphorical bed with these banking vandals, and accordingly, it is impossible for me to cast a ballot for her.”
You see? There is a certain serenity in rage.
The Big Short?
In short, it is why movies still occasionally matter. Twice in one week. Wow.