Dig In

Peer pressure. That's why I'm writing this. I am caving in to the demands of friends and co-workers who listen to my ramblings (or pretend to listen). They are telling me to do this. So I am. Because I'm tired of arguing against them and the bridges they told me to jump off had fencing preventing me from jumping.

I can't place when, where, or why I fell in love with cinema, but here we are. Maybe, through some sort of cathartic process, I'll be able to uncover and identify that point in spacetime, but until then the musings I post here will need to be taken at face value, through the lenses of “now” and “me.”

Whenever or whatever “now” and “me” might be, at all those times and versions of self, I deeply love cinema. All of it- movies, films, high brow, low brow, grind house, art house- I'm a fan. This is not to say I love all movies. I will probably dedicate a healthy part of all postings to ripping apart films you love. I simply have an eclectic taste when it comes to what I watch and what I enjoy.

Note how I didn't say “good taste.” I'm the first to admit that I enjoyed The Third Man as much as Transformers II: Dark Side of the Moon, but I'm also fully capable of recognizing the significant differences between a noir masterpiece and two hours of giant alien robots. Both are dear to me, (like how I find dark chocolate truffles and cheetos to be equally delicious in the right situations), and I argue that cinematic equivalents of “gourmet food” and “junk food” end up on the same “plate” more often than is apparent.

Are you hungry yet? I'm hungry. Let's do this.