Just Let Me Pick the Movies, Damn It

I, Campaspe, have spent much of my adult life trying to persuade people that everyone would be happier, saner, more discerning and all-around plain-old better off if they would just let me pick the video. Or the DVD. I spent so many years in the video store, pushing to rent Rules of the Game when my companion was determined to take out Batman Returns. This Self-Styled Siren is tired, tired, tired.

This blog of my own enables me to present my opinions on movie matters with no pesky reminders that the store is about to close. I can explain, in detail, just why the The Matrix is pretentious hokum, and why The Crowd is more daring than anything I have seen in the past decade. I need not hate any video renter; he cannot hurt me, or force me to watch Broken Arrow. I need not flatter any Netflix subscriber; I can write about Trouble in Paradise and leave him to his three-part epic about a bunch of goddamn elves.

Here are my plans. On bad days, I will write about things that irritate the bejesus out of me. I have many candidates. There's that "A List" gossip site, and why it nauseates me; the useles IMDB "250 Best" list; the contemptible attempts to whitewash the blacklist; why towering John Ford is so little appreciated these days; the silliness of saying "oh, he always played himself." I will also have days when the urge to vent about politics overtakes me. I may even post something personal.

On good days, I will write about the actors, directors, cinematographers, costumers, art directors and movies that I love. I may throw in a little fashion talk, and I am certain to write about books as well.

My tastes, and welcome to them.