The only question is Why, and there’s only one answer. No one is going to enjoy this. Harrison Ford is too old for this. He was too old for it in the last movie. It’s going to be regurgitated trash, that will almost but not quite pay homage to the movies that were actually good because they were made by artists in their prime. Nerds will fight about it on the internet, but enough dopes will buy tickets that it will cover expenses.
Shia LaBoeuf won’t be in it, you see. It’s all Shia LaBoeuf’s fault that Crystal Skull was bad. It’s all Hayden Christensen’s fault the Prequels were bad. It’s all Emilia Clarke’s fault Terminator: Genysis was bad. There’s always enough stupid people to keep these creaky franchises afloat.
What will the plot be? Who cares? Fighting Neo-Nazis for control of some maguffin. Throw a Boys From Brazil surprise in there, why not? Have some zombie ninjas, some drug dealers, some hippie alien cultists. DO IT. Indiana Jones has never been anything but a glorified B-Movie. Go all the way, so the real entertainment will be watching Harrison Ford looking around utterly bewildered, trying to glare his way through the existential crisis that his career has become.
You thought that if you played a megalomaniac sweating in the tropics, or a disabled lawyer, you might get an Oscar. You don’t even have a Golden Globe, do you? You couldn’t even play Jack Ryan convincingly. That’s right, you got out-acted by a Baldwin. A Baldwin, you putz. How does it feel?
You should have done cowboy movies. You should have done a pirate movie with Cary Elwes. Or some cop movies that didn’t suck (Witness is good. I will give you Witness). You should have embraced your success, not run away from it, acting like you were above it. Because guess what? Here you are, 40 years later, and you’re still Han Solo and Indiana Jones. No one cares about anything else. Now, some of this isn’t precisely your fault. But you’d have done yourself a favor and played every kind of adventuring rogue there was. Not only would that mean there would be a bunch more franchises for Disney to feed off of, it would mean you’d have built an oeuvre everyone would remember fondly. Get yourself some producer credits and you could be profiting off the inevitable remakes instead of dragging your geriatric ass around the back end of the world trying not to lose your hat.
Yeah, I get it. Hollywood has its own rules. You’re just a player, not a power. Like I said, not fully your fault. But is this really how you wanna spend your Golden Years, squeezing one last drop out of a franchise that hasn’t been relevant since its target audience was in grade-school? There’s a reason you didn’t do one of these for a long time. Stop. They won’t do one without you. They don’t dare. You don’t need the money, do you? Go direct something. Go produce something. Hell, run for governor of California. You’d win in a walk. Do anything else but this. This is a waste of everyone’s time.
The joke of the year (decade?) is they don’t, and I’ll have to explain to my grandchildren that long ago there were these big living rooms with hundreds of seats that people used to pay half the price of a DVD (what’s a DVD, grampa?) for one ticket, and by kitchen snacks for, and sit with a bunch of people you did not know and listen to them eat and talk on their phones and otherwise interrupt your film. Unless of course, the movie wasn’t popular, in which case you probably wouldn’t see it, or you’d see it in the giant living room and sit way to close to it, because you could, and walk out with a neck cramp. Because that’s what movies were.
But as it turns out, there are still theaters open. Not any in my neighborhood, but near enough that I could get there if the urge was really on me. So let’s see what we’ve got, at a theater less than an hour from my house:
Wrong Turn(Rotten Tomatoes Score: 29%). Hikers on the Appalachian trail do the thing they’re warned not to do, stumble into land that ain’t theirs, get the Texas Chainsaw Massacre/Green Inferno treatment.
The Marksman (Rotten Tomatoes Score: 34%). Liam Neeson takes on a drug cartel on behalf of some migrants. He learned to shoot good in the Marines, though, so it’ll probably be fine.
News of the World (RTS: 89%) Tom Hanks rescues a child kidnapped by Indians, fights the entire West to take her to her kin.
Wonder Woman 1984 (RTS: 60%) Wonder Woman does Wonder Woman things while Evil Mr. Business does Capitalism Things, in a film made by a marketing committee of a major international corporation.
Fatale (RTS: 46%) Hillary Swank goes Fatal Attraction on a dude. It’s meaningful because she’s a cop and he’s black? I got nothing.
Monster Hunter (RTS: 49%) “So what, are we Guardians of the Galaxy now?” May be the most truthful and pathetic line ever put into a trailer.
The Croods: A New Age (RTS: 77%) Low-Rent Flinstones are back for… something. Who cares.
Freaky(RTS: 83%) Serial Killer inhabits a high-schooler in this parody of a concept that actually got made. Good for them.
Come Play(RTS: 56%) Autistic kid summons monster from his phone in the most 21st Century horror film imaginable.
The Emperor’s New Groove (RTS: 85%) A re-release of a film we paid $26 for on DVD, and are glad to have done so, because its not on Disney+ (neither is Enchanted, because Disney enjoys annoying its fans).
This is an odd collection of films, and some might call it even barebones (granted, it’s January). But there’s at least two of those I would actively choose to see if I actually felt like going to a theater. So, it seems there might actually be a pulse on the film industry. I saw the trailer for a Tom Hanks film and wasn’t immediately bored. That’s something.
Usually when I see an article about “Millenials” or “Millenial Trends” or “Stuff These Damn Millenials are Doing”, I scroll past it. Partly because it’s usually empty-calorie click-bait, but mostly because I’ve decided that “Millenials” are not a thing. There are people born between 1981 and 1997, and they have a set of shared cultural memories. They aren’t all hipsters, and they aren’t all vegans, and they aren’t all anything. They’re exactly like all other “generations” in this respect. Not all Boomers are Hippies. Not all Greatest are war vets. Not all Gen-X are nihilists.
[Also, if you’re talking about teenagers, you’re not talking about Millenials. Millenials stopped being born somewhere between 1997 and 2000, depending on who’s drawing the line. This year’s high school seniors were born in 2000-2001. They are Generation Z, which hasn’t had a label foisted on them yet.]
But I do like me some good music snark, so I clicked on “31 Incredibly Lame Bands Millenials Love.” Because a little You Kids Get Off My Lawn every now and again can be a worthwhile aesthetic exercise, so long as its funny.
However, this one failed. It failed hard, and it needs to be fisked. It’s a crappy slideshow with dull snaps and I’m going to make fun of it. Original in bold, response in italic.
Arcade Fire – A band that features a synthesizer, an accordian, a french horn, a harp, and a hurdy-gurdy, ffs. No wonder hipsters are absolutely obsessed with them.
The conflation of “hipster” with “Millenial” is deeply dumb. Modern hipsterism started in the late 90’s, and it was a late-Gen-X trend (the difference in experience between the Early and Late of any “generation” is one of the reasons “generations” are sociological nonsense). The guys in Swingers are not Millenials. As to the Arcade Fire, they’re not my cup of tea, but I’ve enjoyed a bit of their music. If you ever enjoyed “Automatic for the People”-era REM, you should have no problem with The Arcade Fire. Unless you think the kids are doing it wrong, which is your right.
The Chainsmokers – As a recent tweet put it, this band is what would happen if Axe Body Spray learned how to play music.
I have no idea who the Chainsmokers are and cannot comment. But the hatred at Axe Body Spray and associated cultural markers is proof if proof were needed that not all Millenials are the same and have the same ideas about culture.
Bon Iver– You will never find a whiter band than Bon Iver. Not Journey, not NSYNC, not Creed, not anything. This is apex whiteness.
And that makes him bad… because…?
Is there anything more tiring than the casual dismissal of ‘whiteness’ as a display of fake hip? HURR DURR WHITE PEEPUL, AMIRITE?
Bon Iver is a folk musician. He makes folk music. You may not like folk music, but it’s a tradition as old as America (older, actually). There’s nothing specifically Millennnial about him. He’s just his generation’s Bob Dylan. And Bob Dylan started sucking in the 70’s, and to my notice has not stopped. So until Iver starts writing hagiographies for dead gangsters, leave him alone.
Florence + The Machine – The stylized “+” is how you know they’re deeply, insufferably pretentious.
At least you can pronounce the “+”. That’s more than I can say for The Artist That Everyone Pretended To Be Huge Fans of When He Died Formerly Known As Prince.
Fall Out Boy – Fall Out Boy sounds like someone found a way to turn Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder into sonic energy.
That sounds awesome, actually. So you must be wrong, because I don’t much like Fall Out Boy.
Imagine Dragons– This is one of those bands that we’re all going to be really, really embarrassed about in about ten years.
And really, really nostalgic about in twenty. That’s how that works. There is nothing lamer than what was cool ten years ago, and nothing cooler than what was cool twenty years ago. This is the Iron Law of Fashion and Music.
The Lumineers – The Lumineers is like if Polyphonic Spree somehow became infinitely more insufferably twee.
“infinitely more insufferably”? Can you BE more dramatic?
Fleet Foxes – Hospitals could save a ton of money on anesthetic if they just piped Fleet Foxes tracks into their operating rooms.
Heh. Okay, that’s actually funny.
Twenty-One Pilots – If I have to hear “you don’t know, the half of the ABYUYUYUYUYUYSE” one more time, my head will explode.
Again, Twenty-One Pilots is a band teenagers like, and Millenials aren’t teenagers anymore. This is Gen-Z stuff.
Sigur Ros – Good life rule: when you hear the words “Icelandic avant garde rock band” strung together, immediately run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.
Yeah, why expose yourself to anything new or adventurous? Keep listening to the same stuff by the same bands or bands like them. Stay in Your Box, Consumer.
Mumford and Sons – THERE ARE NO SONS IN THIS BAND, WHAT IS THIS VILE DECEPTION.
Of all the shots you could have taken against Mumford, you go with that one? I mean, I get the need to lighten the mood with something not-serious, so people won’t think you’re a crank, but you’re writing a crank piece. Not one “Millenial” is going to stop listening to any of these acts because of you. So write the crank piece, vent your spleen, and be done with it.
Neutral Milk Hotel – Personally, I prefer Biased Milk Hotel.
Another name shot. Be lazier.
Say Anything – This band combines Blink-182’s painful whininess with random sound effects. A winning combination, that is not.
Blink 182 never struck me as whiny, but whatever. At least this one is about the actual music.
LCD Soundsystem – It’s amazing a band can have roughly 142 members and not one of them will have any musical talent.
No, what’s amazing is that you thought this snap was clever. This is bush-league, 4th grade material. An army of monkeys slapping keys together for an hour will produce something funnier than this. A 4Channer hopped up on Adderall could make a meme about LCD Soundsystem while playing Fortnite that would be funnier than this. Don Rickles’ mouldering corpse could just lay there being a not-funny-at-all memento mori, and it would still be funnier than “many-people-no-talent”.
LCD Soundsystem is music meant either for working out or partying. They work fine for both.
The xx – You’re not being edgy with your refusal to capitalize “xx,” JAMIE SMITH BECAUSE THAT’S YOUR NAME, NOT “JAMIE XX.” God.
That’s right, rock stars giving themselves new names is a totally new Millenial trend. Sir Richard Starkey, Jeff Hyman, Frank Ferrano Jr., and Lesane Crooks were unavailable for comment.*
The Arctic Monkeys – Arctic Monkeys were one of the first bands to come to prominence as a result of the internet. Thanks for nothing, internet.
I saw the Arctic Monkeys open for the Black Keys twice. They were great. The A.M. album is solid. You’re just wrong.
Bleachers – OK, yes, fine, the band’s music is good and all, but is it required to be so pretentious that you call yourself “Bleachers” rather than “The Bleachers?” Come on, guys.
Seriously? Not only is this another name shot, but it’s the worst, most philistine name shot imaginable. Not every band has to call themselves “The Somethings”. Pretentious? This doesn’t even rise to Archers-of-Loaf levels.
And on top of that, you admit that they make good music, so they don’t need to be here. You’re bad at this. You should stop.
The White Stripes – Half of this band was OK. The other half couldn’t find the rhythm with a roadmap and a divining rod.
Which half? You mean JACK GILLIS BECAUSE THAT’S HIS NAME NOT JACK WHITE, GOD!?
People, how many times are we going to go to the well of “Meg Can’t Play Drums”? The whole reason she was in the White Stripes was because she played the drums very simply, which is to say, she bashed them like a hyperactive ten-year-old. That’s what Jack liked. That’s what inspired him, and it fit entirely with in the overall band aesthetic. She wasn’t supposed to be Neal Pert, and she never pretended to be. Give it a rest.
Radiohead – Every single insufferable music snob you’ve ever met has been obsessed with this band, and I can’t think of a single more brutal condemnation than that.
And again, their big heyday was in the 90’s. They’re a Gen-X band. A late Gen-X band, but still.
And sometimes insufferable music snobs are right. Radiohead doesn’t suck. Go back and listen to OK Computer. It holds up. And this is coming from someone who didn’t care about Radiohead at all in the 90’s.
Modest Mouse – Remember the fifteen minutes when we all collectively thought this band was good? Yeah, I know you’d love to forget it — we all would — but it happened.
I don’t. I don’t regret a moment of digging Good News For People Who Love Bad News. It encapsulates fond memories of driving up the NJ Turnpike to visit my then-girlfriend, now-wife in Brooklyn. “Float On” is still my ringtone for her.
I didn’t think much of the follow-up album, and I haven’t paid attention since. That doesn’t mean we need to memory-hole them. Stop being such a nerd.
Wilco – Oh boy, fifteen minutes of discordant noises with no relation to each other. Sounds like a pleasurable listening experience!
I too have tired of Wilco after spending a summer listening to a lot of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. For some reason I just put it aside and stopped caring about it. So I can sort of relate, but this just sounds like bashing experimental music, so whatever. Enjoy your Top 40, I guess.
Kings of Leon – I’m not convinced there’s a more thorough indictment of the millennial generation than the fact Kings of Leon has four top-five albums in a row and counting.
Enh. I sort of get your problem, because their successful albums, starting with their fourth, have been bland arena-rock. I’m not trying to sound pretentious here, but I like their early stuff. Their second and third albums especially had a lot of good ideas on them.
The Shins – If someone could please explain why millennials consider one of the most boring bands in history to be revolutionary, I’d love to hear it.
Can’t help you. The Shins are pop-revivalists, influenced by Zombies/Beach Boys kind of stuff. People who don’t like that sort of thing won’t find this the sort of thing that they like.
Phoenix – HARD PASS
OMG THAT RESPONSE IS SO HOT RIGHT NOW.
Belle & Sebastian– Why is the prevailing trend in hipster music to be as relentlessly boring as possible?
Sorry, but I’m not defending Belle & Sebastian.
Bastille – It’s not even necessarily that this band is bad, but I’m still holding a grudge because I’ll have “EHHHH-EH-OOH-EH-OOH, EHHHHH-EH-OOH-EH-OOH” stuck in my head until the end of time.
“I don’t dislike their music, just this one song that wasn’t to my taste. Because I still think it’s important to get angry about that sort of thing. IT’S MY IDENTITY YOU GUYS!”
Tame Impala – Wait, we thought smooth jazz was over like 15 years ago? Why is it making a comeback now?
Because stuff makes a comeback. Aesthetic movements grow for a bit, become dissipated, then are revived by those they influenced. It’s human nature. Deal with it.
The Mountain Goats – The fact every single Mountain Goats song sounds like it was recorded on a Speak N’ Spell — and that this is a deliberate stylistic choice — should tell you everything you need to know about this band.
Okay, first of all, that’s not a fact, that’s your subjective impression. Your feelings are not facts.
Second, lo-fi is a genre/recording style as old as the hills. It may not be to your taste. In fact, it really only appeals to a small number of people. But it does appeal to them.
Finally, they started in 1991, and they’re releases were mostly cassette-only until they signed to 4AD. These two ACTUAL facts indicate a Gen-X pedigree.
Yeah Yeah Yeahs – This band deserves all the shade in the world just for having a name that’s incredibly annoying to say.
A name that’s in how many choruses to rock songs?
You know, as someone who delights in dumping on bad band names, I am really tired of all these name shots. You’re not going after bands with actual bad names, and you aren’t funny when you do it. And the whole point of this exercise was supposed to be that the Band is bad, not the name.
The Black Keys – NOPE. NOT GONNA BE MEAN TO THE BLACK KEYS, THEY ARE TREASURES.
*AKA Ringo Starr, Joey Ramone, Nikki Six, and Tupac Shakur.
Kaboom was for people — children, I mean — who had decided to give up on life. And it’s a sad thing for a six-year-old to have already thrown in the towel and said, “Ah well. The hopes and dreams of kindergarten are ultimately exposed as so much folly. Give me the Kaboom, Ma. I’m ready to settle.”
For example, of course you knew that Wonder Woman’s costume was Problematic. That’s a no-brainer. But could you in your wildest imagination have discerned that enjoying Potato Salad without consideration for it nonwhite origins is even MOAR Problematic?
Of course you did not, you foul hater you.
But now you can know. Listen. Absorb. Don’t Resist.
The phenomenon of young women falling in love with death-row inmates, particularly with serial killers, is not new: Women flocked to Ted Bundy’s trial — his trial for raping, torturing, and murdering young women as a prelude to acts of necrophilia — and he received stacks of love letters and marriage proposals. Jeffrey Dahmer and Richard Ramirez got the same treatment, and Anders Behring Breivik might as well be the Beatles during their heyday. An investment banker may have a Ferrari, but the serial killer, the terrorist, and the mass murderer are at the top of the food chain. On the subject of Nazis, P. J. O’Rourke famously joked that “no one has ever had a fantasy about being tied to a bed and sexually ravished by someone dressed as a liberal.” Like all good jokes, that is fundamentally true — even if the truth behind it horrifies the nice people at National Public Radio, who remain “bumfuzzled” that a rich and powerful woman would allow herself to be beaten bloody by a psychopathic meathead, repeatedly.
That all sounds thoughtful and probably true. Meanwhile, in nerd-world:
I cannot quite express it, but I feel as though there’s a similar dynamic at work. We Warsies (thanks Trekkies) could not stop complaining about Phantom Menace back in the day, any more than we could stop paying money to go see it. It was almost as though we enjoyed the abuse.
Here’s what I have to say in response to this paint-by-numbers men-are-icky listicle:
1. They know how to wire 17 devices through one surge protector…
Is that difficult? Put the plug in the socket. This is beyond female ken? Really?
2. But have no idea how to put down the toilet seat.
*sigh* Yes we do. We have the idea to put it down every time we have to go no. 2. The only idea we don’t have is this odd expectation that the toilet seat is always going to be in the optimum position for us when we approach it. If we have to sit on it, and the seat is up, we put it down! I know! Like, without complaining or anything!
3. They can proficiently operate an elaborate system of multiple remotes and cable boxes…
If you say so, sister. I get frustrated with mine a good deal. Inanimate objects vex me. My wife is much better with them.
4. But feel overwhelmed by using more than one shower product for all of their bathing needs.
Not overwhelmed. We just don’t see the point. You come out of the shower, you’re clean. We come out of the shower, we’re clean. Except you do it with fifteen different products and we do it with one. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
5. They can easily be slipped vegan food if you focus on the fact that it is a “home cooked meal.”
Deception. The basis of any healthy relationship.
You do realize that you’ve given him a license to sneak bacon into your food, right?
6. They like football.
Because women don’t.
7. Like, a lot.
Because they like it so much that it takes up two places!
8. But are totally not into reading laundry labels.
Okay, so far there’s been at least a tenuous juxtaposition between complicated things we do/simple things we don’t. But here the heuristic falls apart. How does “liking” football contrast with “totally not being into” laundry labels. Do women actually like reading laundry labels? Or do they just own clothes in so many different fabrics that it’s simply good sense to pay attention to them? Whereas guy clothes usually come in three fabrics:
Cotton, which washes well, and can only be dried wrong once
Polyester/blends, which wash and dry fine
Wool, which gets dry-cleaned
Our laundry lives just aren’t that complicated.
9. They collect tools in the same way that we collect nail polish…
10. And the poor things think doing chores is as fun as having your nails did.
It’s the difference between doing something and chatting while something is done for you. Different strokes for different folks.
Also, I feel like most guys don’t consider mucking around with tools “chores” in the same sense that vacuuming and dishes are “chores”.
11. Finally, the three farts a day when you each had your own place? That was him holding back.
Women are dainty flowers who never expel methane from their rectum, said no husband ever.
You’re terrible at this, MTV. Go back to doing…whatever you do these days. Exploiting dumb people for giggles, last time I checked.
The fact of the matter is, if it weren’t natural, I wouldn’t still produce milk, and it wouldn’t feel good to breast feed my son. Because of the sexual repression of women, there’s little information on the sexual nerve receptors in the nipple and the rest of the titty, but when a baby sucks on a woman’s breast she experiences a bit of sexual pleasure. When a man does it, she receives even more pleasure because the breast is sensitive to facial hair, and now that my son Mason is old enough to grow facial hair, our breastfeeding sessions have become even more pleasurable for me.
…my immediate response was literally this:
And when I say “literally”, I mean I held my phone, on which I initially read it, an arm’s length away, saying “what even the…!”
But the last line (thankfully) gives the game away…
I’m going to keep breast feeding my son until my body decides that it’s time to stop, and I get the feeling that my body isn’t producing milk because Mason needs it, it’s producing milk because my body knows that we live in a problematic society that discourages women from letting their children suck on their boobs in public. That and I have a hormonal imbalance.
Now, I’m not entirely certain what the target of the satire is. Crunchy Uber-Breastfeedery Anti-Vaccer types, most likely, with perhaps a last snook cocked at Third Wave Feminism. But in any case, at least half the commenters don’t get it. Which is either the sign of good satire, or more evidenced that mass media and irony don’t mix.
Let us assume they are serious, and this “holacracy” is their real intent as opposed to the kind of window dressing that small companies use to mask their transition to big companies. It’s still hogwash.
Labor is conditional upon employment: one works because one is paid. People whose work is unsatisfactory are thus a negative value for their employers. So any company must have the capacity to end employment for those who do not work to the company’s goals.
Ah, but who defines such things? Who decides what are the company’s goals and what is “satisfactory”? Not everyone, surely: such would mean an infinity of mission statements (the horror!), and eventually, collapse.
So only certain people are given the authority to a) decide the goals, and b) reward or punish those who meet, exceed, or fail these goals.
Whoever these people are, whatever their title, however carefully the iron fist is swaddled in dainty gloves of pre-war velvet, they are the bosses. Whoever isn’t a boss is a worker. Et voila! Hierarchy.