Big Crap, Little Crap

I can remember a few years ago, when I was in Hollywood, I came across one of the crappiest scripts that ever existed. This was right around the time that "Garden State" was emerging from its shit-encased chrysalis and spreading its wings in theaters, which means it was the absolute peak of the "Garden State" wave. Go back and watch the teaser, and you can completely understand why the movie was such a cultural event in the Spring of 2004. It still gives me tingles - the music, the Andersonian visuals (wide angle lens, symmetry, slow-motion, one non-white character), the odd feeling of generational discovery. Of course, it was all just a tease - all of the fun stuff from the movie, even the last shot, is in the preview.

The script that I came across was named after a geographic region of coastal land. It featured a listless twenty-something upset about life who didn't get along well with his authoritarian father, who decided to run away from his problems by hanging out with people who lived like Henry David Thoreau, except replacing Thoreau's immense talent and strenuous philosophy with drugs. The twenty-something guy has a rugged friend with immense plans, the kind of guy who can only be played by Peter Sarsgard four years ago (when he was a young guy who looked old, and not an old guy who looks like evil.) The one difference from "Garden State" was that, right at the end, the screenplay morphed into some kind of action movie, with DEA helicopters flying all about.

NOW IT'S A MOVIE!

Fascinated, I read through the reviews from the debut of "Humboldt County" at SXSW, which range from rave to aimiable. Not gonna lie: based on the trailer, this movie looks like indie crap, overridden with serio-cuteness and renegade niceties. I suspect that people who like and hate this preview will focus in on the same line: "I think it's nicer than beer," says the cute little adolescent stoner rebel earth child named "Charity" unironically. If you like it, that line captures the movie's quirky charm; if you don't like it, that line captures the movie's quirky badness.

As a gemini, I have the remarkable and annoying ability to see both sides of an argument. You would think this would have made me the best debater on my high school team, since I could easily believe in either side of the case. Instead, it made me the worst; whenever I tried to come up with an argument in my favor, I could instantly see the response to that argument. So has gone most of my young life. I like almost anything, yet find reasons to hate almost everything. I hate Republicans but can't stand liberals and think independents should just pick a side, already. According to iTunes, my favorite kinds of music are sad-loud techno and indie rock hit singles, yet I despise people who like indie rock and hate dancing anywhere but my room with the door closed and the windows covered.

And so it is that I can never really decide which I absolutely fucking despise more: big-budget crap like "Made of Honor" or "10,000 BC," emptyheaded bullshit that wastes millions of dollars on shittily designed camera angles, poor acting, vague plotlines, and not even enough material to float a semi-decent trailer; or tiny-budget crap like "Garden State" and "The Science of Sleep," emptyheaded bullshit which floats and hums along on the whimsical winds of whim, following the slapsticky-yet-meaningful exploits of a protagonist (usually a wealthy young man with nothing substantive to worry about) adrift in a sea of local eccentrics, all of it set to a vaguely rebellious beat (parents suck; jobs crush souls) and indie pop rock.

I should make it clear that I hate both kinds of movies, but that it's much more fun to hate the latter, perhaps for the same reason that it's fun to beat baby dolphins with a cricket bat. I think it's because the big movies are just decadent, caustic enterprises; studios don't even bother with critics anymore, knowing that critics will hate their dull prequel-ready rehashes. Whereas teeny little indie movies pull the shirt off their back, pull their heart from out of their breast, hold it out to you, and beg you, plead with you, to wuv them. What I think it comes down to is one simple truism: big studio movies are bad in exactly the same bloated, overlong way, but teeny little indie flicks are each bad in their own particular, undernourished way.

Much like "Humboldt County." I doubt the movie will be good (except for Brad Dourif who was the Doc from "Deadwood" and Grima Wormtongue from "Lord of the Rings" and any number of other great little roles that form a chronicle of quiet genius), but then again, I thought "The New World" was going to be the worst movie ever and now I go through life daydreaming about watching it on the big screen while listening to its soundtrack on repeat. Which proves that nobody knows anything until the movie plays.