Sunday, June 9, 1996
Cinema and music provide refuge from the banalities of life
I’m not done tormenting UCLA with my writing, but this is my
only chance at a 30 column, and I was convinced over drinks that I
should write one. Against the continuous warnings of those cooler
and more cynical than I, I considered my interest in the Daily
Bruin. Why have I spent four years, long days, and countless
classes writing and editing at this paper? Why do I like writing
about film and music so much? And why do I care about film enough
to want to make movies in "real" life?
My first theory was that my writing is some dysfunctional stab
at immortality. Obviously, this isn’t wholly rational, as writing
at the Bruin often feels like tossing stories into a void, but I
will acknowledge that I am pleased when I notice one of my articles
on a dorm wall or someone stops me at a party and says "I hated
your column." I’ve gotten letters over the years calling me a
racist, too politically correct, unkind to Midwesterners, unkind to
Keanu Reeves (does Movieline get letters from this guy every
issue?) and these reminders that someone reads are intriguing, but
I can’t say I’m convinced that people even notice bylines when
they’re ignoring their Linguistics lecture. If your eyes just
darted up to the top of the article, I rest my case.
So I move on. Maybe what I want is influence. And I do, I guess.
I hope that I convinced you to see at least one good film
(hopefully "Spanking the Monkey") or that some performer I
appreciate is compelling. But I realize I’m not exactly fat Ebert.
I couldn’t even convince my dad that Henry Czerny was stellar in
"Mission Impossible." "Sure, but you interviewed him," said my
dad.
So I guess what I want, and what I get, out of the Bruin is
perks. And I mean that in the least mercenary way. Daily Bruin
A&E is a 10-pound gorilla. We don’t push anyone around, we
never get first dibs, but we’re there, goddamn it. I like that seat
about half-way back and my almost-but-not-quite insignificant
position in the enterprise of entertainment.
Anyone who’s ever tried to utter Michael Hutchence’s immortal
"somethin’ about you, girl / makes me sweat" in spoken words is
testament to the fact that you can get away with more in a song
than in dialogue. The countless morons (I am, unfortunately, one)
who strive too hard to utter Tarantino’s lines in everyday
conversation know that godhead is more frequently achieved
on-screen.
So my point? Films and music are better than "real" life. Books
too, but no one reads and the novel is dead and I’m trying to be
populist. As we sit in caps and gowns under the gaze of only four
family members, remember that the graduation scene has been done
better in "Say Anything." Maybe even "Reality Bites," though I will
never praise Helen Childress’ weak script.
If you leave the ceremony and walk into a wacky family squabble,
it’s been more entertaining. It was called "Six Degrees of
Separation." Get dumped by your significant other? "When Harry Met
Sally." Get your ass kicked in a changing room? "Kiss Me Deadly."
Slip up and do your mom? The aforementioned "Spanking the
Monkey."
You could get hit by a car and fly from Lot 6 to Taco Bell and
it would still be less impressive to the people around than one of
Steven Seagal’s three-word-titled films B.O.D.G.
But what you could do (a quick tangent before I lead my didactic
monologue somewhere else) if you wanted to make me watch, is come
out in front of your family. If you were a central character and
the production values were up to par, that would be a fucking cool
story because I’ve never seen it done well before.
This isn’t to knock "real" life. What really happens to you is
interesting, if you can tell it in an exciting enough manner. But
arts and entertainment, good arts and entertainment, tell stories
intriguing enough to capture the imaginations of many. Movies and
music share a universality that you will never achieve with
redial.
A strung-out assistant crack-whore recovering from a chupacabra
attack in a non-THX theater can, for about two hours, feel like
tornadoes are about to throw her into the sky and then dash her
into bloody bits on the pavement below. Cool, huh?
Again, my hopes of finding a decent example are undermined by my
fixation with a phonetically amusing word. But I do think there’s a
point here. It’s that movies and music matter, that stories matter
and that I hope you have a good graduation. Or at least an exciting
one.
Now that I’ve justified (in some small way) my last four years
as a Bruin writer, I’d like to thank those that shared my stories
and read my stories. I appreciate my editors, my writers, anyone in
any of my films and everyone who lunched ad infinitum, day-in,
day-out. May our memories outlive the ball of corroded Coop pizza
that lives in my gut.
And now the honor list, some of whom should appear in an
upcoming Premiere article titled "Daily Bruin Arts and
Entertainment: The Next Video Archives?" As the oft-repeated
disclaimer goes: if you aren’t on the list, don’t get on a plane
with a 7-year-old pilot. I thank Mike, Mike, Victor, Colby (Frenz
4-ever!), John and Jenn for your complicity in the grand obsession
of Daily Bruin A&E.
Horowitz, who is graduating in communication studies, was the
’96 film and video editor.