01 July 2005

I'll See it for Dakota

I love movies. Unabashedly. Unreservedly. And, some would say, with little or no taste, rarely differentiating between the good and the bad.

Which is why I'm going to see War of the Worlds, post-haste.

But I'm seeing it for Dakota Fanning, whom I adore. Never an untrue moment with this precious little powerhouse.

I'll decidedly not be seeing it to support Tom Cruise, about whom I've had increasingly mixed feelings lately. What with his crazy stunts on Oprah, his moronic observations about Brooke Shields and the whole science of psychology and psychiatry (not, mind you, that I don't think we're too quick to medicate our problems away), and most assuredly in spite of his increasingly annoying the-lady-doth-protest-too-much insistence on his virile and overwhelming heterosexuality.

No, I'll be seeing this flick because I love movies. And the beauty of my lack of taste in movies is that I go into them with absolutely no expectations, so I'm rarely disappointed. I can find something to like about the worst cinematic piles of trash. Mock me all you like, but I think I'm better off than you people who actually expect something for the money you spend on your movie ticket. And remember, I live in New York City, where we spend $10.50 on a movie.

So yeah. Bring it, say I. In spite of crazy Tom Cruise, and bad reviews. Bring it, and I'll have fun.

But it does beg the question: Why don't we have real movie stars anymore? Where are the likes of Cary Grant? Cary Cooper? Gregory Peck? Katherine Hepburn? Bette Davis?

I think it's because those old stars, the ones we put on a pedestal, didn't release all the messy details of their lives for public consumption, so all we had to focus on was the roles they played. We never had to watch Cary Grant put a lip lock on Irene Dunne and have that image spoiled by knowing he was suing the hell out of a gay porn star to keep him quiet.

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