Isn't it time we did something about the rampant postmodernism which is currently running unchecked in our cinemas? This is the era of the exhumed has-been, to put it in the words of those who demand grandiose statements. I'm all for genre revivals in theory (like, when is the ltalian cannibal flick revival gonna hit?) but we've got nothing better to show for all our closet-rifling than patronising fifties TV sitcoms. I mean The Beverly Hillbillies for fucksake? The Brady Bunch? Archie?
Actually, it doesn't surprise me at all to be reliving the fifties. There is politico-enforced (and, needless to say, media-encouraged) return to family values (whatever they are... the family values of light wifebattering, occasional teenage coke snorting, borderline date rape and only infrequently stealing the car perhaps?) Popular culture has hit an all-time insipidity high, while tolerance of other forms is at a low.
Okay, let's say we give the seventies (to unjustifiably pick on the current flavour of the moment) a good hoovering for cool stuff, I contend that there would be a lot more that wasn't disco. We always seem to throw away the dust and keep the bag - in layman's terms, the shit. I'd much prefer A Clockwork Orange to the silver-and-sequins, kitch-appropriationist brigade myself, but I know exactly why we don't see any great films any more. It's because we're sold genres now. Trends.
One man who has ridden this wave of postmodern pennypinching to superstardom is the much overpraised Quentin Tarantino (or QT as he is called in The Biz). He is a master, I admit, but only a master of homage, appropriation, and just plain plagiarism. Tarantino takes the nihilism and violence straight from the masters of the Seventies, while mixing in a good dollop of Nineties hug-a-tree morality, love, honour and family values. Basically folks (and I know I'm gonna cop it for this one), QT is to real violence and depravity what smoking a joint and masturbating to a Guns n' Roses CD is to the great Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll Lifestyle. This is not to suggest that his films are anything less than enjoyable but let's not promote the man to godhead before we've given his clay feet a thorough going-over. My guess is that Messrs. Scorcese and Peckinpah would have something to say on the subject.
"Why," you may wail as you rend the air with your hands as self-righteous people do, "must you vent your frustration on poor QT, when at least he's trying? What has he ever done to you?" Nothing, really. Of the unmitigated disaster that is Hollywood's film illuminati, he is probably one of the best. But better than shit is still somewhere in the bowl. What really irks me is that the man is taken seriously by people who should know better. We've long become accustomed to the movie-going scuttlefish re-pledging their love with each new release, but even enlightened critics have gone recollection impaired and fallen for what is essentially shtick. Quirky character shtick. Bad-assed zen hitman shtick. Sluttish sexy bitch shtick. Blaxploitation shtick. Ultraviolence shtick. I must have missed the lecture where the lines "Fuck you, you fucking bitch. You took my fucking coke!" were determined to be a work of genius. Every scene, every character, every bit of cheesy already-assimilated-by-television-decades-ago piece of dialogue is drawn from someplace not his own and thrown together in the ultimate genre gumbo. Is this a good thing? Maybe all the best films really are just reruns. This is what happens when you've spent years trying to convince a critically-depleted audience that Hollywood's unique myopic brand of morality, pathos and melodrama has any connection with reality whatsoever - in the kingdom of the dupes, the guy with the violence is king. Maybe Mr. Tarantino reminds us of a time when the local cineplex showed Taxi Driver instead of Taxi to Soweto.
The more chilling thought is, of course, that we've used up all the good popular culture and are now left with the cinematic equivalent of the last, unidentifiable piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken at the bottom of the Bargain Bucket.