2004-02-21

I have a definite problem. I was on Ebert's review site. And I lost three hours before I even knew it. It started because I finally gave in, after years of urging from the Sean, and watched Fight Club. I'd thought it was a brainless, testosterone flick. And, though I love horror movies, I don't like violence. Maybe I should explain that.

I love a great supernatural horror with beautifully-crafted gore. I'm not into slasher movies with the exception of Freddy Krueger. I mean, he finds such interesting ways to kill. Stabbing gets a bit tedious for me. I just never got into the other slashers. And the Nightmare series had this feeling of isolation and desperation to it. Imagine you are being stalked and tortured in your sleep by a maniac, but no one will believe you because there's no evidence of it and they think you're just an angsty teen who's doing it to yourself. At any rate, I've loved that entire series since the age of ten. And I formed a slightly unwholesome hero worship of Freddy.

Then there's the first two Hellraisers. They are so disgusting, so disturbing, and so beautifully done. I could watch them again and again, both repelled and fascinated. The idea that there's this box and no one knows where it came from (till they screwed that up with the sequels- thanks a lot- spoil the mystery). And the people that decide to fool around can taste all the pleasures of Heaven or Hell. And those that end up being taken by the cenobites find some sort of sick enjoyment in their torture. And there's just such disgusting and beautiful pictures all over.

Then there's thrillers like Seven. The way the killer operates, the methods he uses to punish his victims. It's awful, but so fascinating, what he does. And eerie ghost flicks like The Changeling and The Innocents (a well-done old version of The Turn of the Screw). The gore flicks are disturbing and there's something so naughty and taboo about watching them. The ghost flicks set a mood that keeps you apprehensive all through-out. But, in the end, my brain was racing throughpout these movies. They kept me fascinated not just with what I was seeing, but the ideas behind it.

Slasher movies are just killers chasing teenagers. They don't grab me because there's nothing in them to fascinate me. They set a mood where you jump at surprises, but you don't leave the movie thinking. There's none of the wonder and fascination the other sub-genres of horror inspire in me. No magic to them.

Got way off-topic. Anyway, I really did love Fight Club. It was extremely depressing and disturbing. And I just love feeling disturbed and icky when the credits roll.

Ebert didn't like it, though. He doesn't go with his feelings the way I do. He's a guy and he was disturbed by the underlying message. I like a good and positive message as well. But I mostly go with what I felt watching it and how engrossed I was. If a violent movie manages to occupy the part of my brain that likes a cool picture or an exciting fight- and the part that keeps clicking away, philosophizing on human nature, then it has me.

Ebert and I don't always agree. I know because every time I see a movie, I have to find out what he thought. I spent this evening looking up movies I hadn't seen in years for his review. When he hates what I love, I pinch upn my face and mutter at the screen. When he likes it, I end up sort of misty and teary-eyed, saying, "Exactly. That's so true." I think my complete investment in Ebert's opinion must stem from me having a father who refuses to discuss movies with me. So I've made Ebert my movie Dad. I constantly seek his approval on whatever movie I love. When he gives it, I am so overjoyed, I'm moved to tears. When he withholds it, I cross my arms and decide I don't give a crap what he thinks anyway.

Yeah. I might have a problem.