It’s difficult to remember sometimes while living in the drudgery of Hollywood and trying to create a career in the industry and art form you love the most, why exactly it is that you love it. It’s even more difficult to remember why you love movies in the first place when so many fail to meet expectations, even when failing means that the film was still entertaining enough. Several movies this year I’ve already stepped out of slightly disappointed at the filmmakers because it seemed they were more interested in being clever than in creating a story that was true to the human nature of the characters, and as I said these were movies I enjoyed: “The Illusionist”, “The Prestige”, “The Departed” … all films crafted well, acted well, and thoroughly enjoyable, but somehow disappointing in their final moments of execution – either flashing back to reveal too much, or enjoying a little too much story for their own good.
I’ve experienced one of those weeks (personally) in which nothing it seems like comes to fruition, and that you wonder how things ever could (another symptom created by the world of Los Angeles). You sit, or pace, or wander around in your car wondering if all the hard work you’re putting into every aspect of your life will ever produce something of worth to yourself and others. Hope disappears completely, replaced by large chunks of doubt, worse even acceptance of the fact that you may never get anywhere… what a horrible thing to even consider accepting!
And this is where the two ideas tie together —