OK guys, so it’s time to face some facts. There’s going to be another “Star Wars” film. We can’t stop it. And J.J. Abrams is going to direct it. That much we know.
When these truths were dropped earlier this year, the Internet got all up into an uproar, as they are wont to do. There was the slew of hate for the very idea of a new “Star Wars,” and a torrent of hate for Abrams, mastermind behind ultimately empty puzzle boxes like “Lost” and “Alias.”
Of course, one of the overarching themes of this malcontent maelstrom was the oft-quoted complaint about Abrams—his inexplicable love of lens flare.
Now see, here’s the thing: I was as un-thrilled by the announcements and choices being made as the next fella. I get it. But what I don’t get is the meme-like repetition of what is ultimately a really, really minor issue, especially put up against some of the real, legitimate complaints there are to make about his filmmaking.
Because basically, if the most interesting thing you have to say about a filmmaker is “he uses lens flare too much, heh heh heh,” then, either A: You’re not interested in actually talking about them in a meaningful way; or B: You haven’t actually seen the movies. Either way, it’s bad.
In the case of Abrams, this can actually be a sort of face-saving move, as this really superficial, surface-level comment can help to cover up a lot of the pacing and structural issues, or even all the touches that are totally unnecessary in the vein of lens flare that plague a movie like “Star Trek Into Darkness.”
But it’s still bad. This denies us the opportunity to talk seriously about his work, and in the case of talented filmmakers, can be seriously damaging to their reputation and an obstacle to real conversation.
Take for example my favorite director, Wes Anderson. While peeps in the know are aware of just how emotionally resonant and complex films like “The Royal Tenenbaums,” “The Darjeeling Limited” or even “Fantastic Mr. Fox” can be, there are just as many who dismiss him as being “quirky,” “indie quirk” or most frustratingly, “hipster.”
Other than just overgeneralizing the work of an intensely talented artist, this form of simplification is damaging because it takes a lot of what makes Anderson work and turns it into a criticism, as the “quirk” they’re hitting at is actually the sum total of the tools he uses to craft his highly effective, highly individualized style.
When people blow off Abrams and Anderson like this, they do so based on things that are omnipresent in their works and function as their cinematic signatures. The things people base their generalizations of David Lynch on (the black and white, bizarre and seemingly “meaningless” imagery) are generally drawn just from “Eraserhead.”
Not only is this taking down some really brilliant filmmaking, it’s completely ignoring an extremely deep and fascinating filmography.
But regardless of to whom or how it’s being done, the fact is this latching onto the most obvious aspect of a filmmaker’s work and boiling him down to just that, is harmful and innately negative.
If a film is described as “bizarre” and only “bizarre,” of course the commentary will be harsh, because for work as complex as a film, disrupting the coordination of any few elements leads to a complete collapse of the finely crafted whole and the destruction of its art, which is terrible and the symptom of a systematic issue with the way some people watch movies: It’s easier to pick the most obvious element of a film—usually the one that they understood the least—and rag on it for being “pretentious” or “quirky” or whatever lens flare is, because it means they can get away with a less thoughtful reading of the movie.
But more than just being lazy, this is dangerous because these attitudes are pervasive, and they get spread, and soon David Lynch is “the weird one” and Wes Anderson is “the hipster,” and people who want to talk about them in a casual context are “film snobs.”
So, the solution: It’s pretty simple—call people out on it. When they scoff at Abrams’ lens flare, ask them why they don’t like it. Or what they thought of any other aspect of the film.
Challenge them to actually engage you, and the film. Either they’ll stop trying to discuss films they haven’t thought enough about or they’ll up their game, get on your level, and you’ll have a new friend with whom you can have some real film talk, which is really the best kind of friend.
Argue (well) with Austin at wellens@wisc.edu.
