It Neither Picks My Pocket Nor Breaks My Leg

Apparently some grumpy French film critics have gotten themselves worked into a tizzy over Terrence Malick’s new film. To which I say, who the fuck cares?

In a world where Michael Bay gets the GNP of a small European nation to make movies about transforming cars, Terrence Malick should be allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants. Our job is to say, “thank you, may we have some more?” and pray to whatever god is trendy this month, that he says yes.

Art is not a zero sum game. Who cares if it makes sense or is profitable? Let the Bays and Spielbergs of the film world do the profitable shit. You could fund Malick’s entire career on the left over coke hoovered out of Micheal Bay’s couch. So give him some money and let him make breathtakingly beautiful nonsense. It’s not taking food out of anyone elses mouth. And who knows, someone might think about a movie for once. I’m sure we’ll go back to not thinking about movies next week.

(Or this week. There’s a new Pirates of the Caribbean movie coming out Friday!)