I used to love art movies, I really did. Betty Blue, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Mediterraneo, Bitter Moon, Il Postino.... In fact, “Three colours blue” I loved so much, I included it in my first novel as a major theme.
The last art movie I saw, and I do mean the very last one and never again, was a Spanish one about parents who’ve lost their baby girl. I think I must have suppressed the title due to the post-traumatic shock. Instead of being a therapy for my (hopefully irrational) fears, the film made me cry for days.
So I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that I haven’t seen the latest stuff about transsexuals, abused children, war, hostages and 911. Instead, I went to Pirates 2. I’m not ashamed to admit that I didn’t follow the plot at all. I simply enjoyed the eye-candy and almost 3 hours of mindless escapism.
I don’t know whether the movie itself was any good. Other reviewers gave the movie 3 out of 3. I doubt they knew what they were talking about, either.