I have become intolerant of movies.
Well, the vast majority of them.
Rather, I have become intolerant of experiencing imaginary lives.
How many variations of a story can be watched before each becoming paper thin?
How many different people can be watched putting on costumes acting out the same stories of love, grief, courage and accomplishment in different mockups of the world across time?
How many kisses, how many deaths, how many laughs and how many tears from how many camera angles?
The only films I actually care about at this point are those that offer a certain surrealism, a warped version of reality that either cannot ever exist or may only exist in the future; if only because these are the only films that balance out the inanity of drama.
I wanted to write about this year’s Cyprus Film Festival but I couldn’t think of how to approach the issue of not finding a single movie to make me care.
I guess this post will have to do.