True, I’ve never made a movie or written a screenplay. I don’t own a quality camera or sound equipment, and I’ve never written a song, much less a score for an entire movie.
I don’t enjoy wearing tuxedoes or the shiny, flat-soled shoes that come with them, so I wouldn’t be comfortable walking down a red carpet.
And I wouldn’t want people taking photographs and wanting my autograph. It would be weird to have people thinking I was better than them, when I’m perfectly capable of forgetting how to tie my own shoes.
Glamour is for other people, and they can have it, but I love the movies.
Maybe love is too strong a word, especially since the kids were born. Obviously, I love my kids, but they make movies harder to love because I usually have to watch after they go to sleep.
Every so often I’ll stay up until 3 a.m. or later for a movie marathon, but there’s usually a payment extracted the next day and the day after.
The equation works like this: Love minus two days of messed-up sleep equals like.
My movie addiction involves sitting still, possibly eating food and letting someone else’s cinematic vision wash over me.
I’m impressed by those who go from consumer to producer and make their own movies. From the outside looking in, it seems to be a difficult enterprise.
Movie people usually have to collaborate with a lot of other folks, and everybody knows people can be annoying.
In addition, you have to be willing to invest a bunch of money and time, and there’s no guarantee your finished product will be any good. So many people have worked so ridiculously hard to make such horrible movies.
It’s sad when you think about it, and I almost feel sorry for them, even while writing bad reviews for the Mighty Daily Journal.
My movie review job is a fine fit because it’s in line with something I’m already inclined to do, but I’ve had to suffer through some crummy stuff.
I despise getting scared by movies and don’t understand folks who enjoy it. The last time I had to see a scary movie, I had to think hard about getting out of bed at night to go to the bathroom.
I live close to the Battle of Tupelo site, so there’s probably Confederate and Union dead roaming my house. It’s safer to stay under the covers, though that’s tough on the bladder.
But as a general rule, movies should be evaluated by their effect on the bladder.
Have you ever forced yourself to ignore nature’s call for fear of missing something on screen?
That’s the true judge of cinematic quality, though I doubt glamorous types would walk down the red carpet for “The Toiletry Awards.”
M. Scott Morris is a Daily Journal feature writer. Contact him at (662) 678-1589 or firstname.lastname@example.org.