Feel Good Film of the Decade?

As a company that helps brands build cultural currency with their audience, we will periodically post raves and rants about what’s happening now. On this Oscar eve my husband, Peter Novobatzky, does the honors…

Tomorrow, a certain movie is favored to win the Oscars for Best Movie and Best Director.  This movie, which will remain nameless, is not a good movie. Apparently, the director of this “Movie That Will Remain Nameless” (who will, likewise, remain nameless) has signed a contract with the biggest studio boss of all: Satan.

My wife and I seem to be the only people on the planet who realize this. She wants to “let it go” because everyone loves the Movie That Will Remain Nameless, and people are touchy about the things they love. She says we cannot mention to anyone how we hated the Movie That Will Remain Nameless – that this cannot be understood by good people and must remain hidden, like the fact that we do jigsaw puzzles on the weekends.

At the apartment of a fine couple we are friends with who just had their first baby, after a couple of glasses of wine, the conversation turns to movies. They haven’t seen many lately, being confined the last several months. “I tell you what we didn’t love…” I start in, ignoring pointed glares from my wife. She feels like she is witnessing a crane accident start to happen. She wants to stop me and rescue everything: me, the conversation, the entire evening, maybe even the relationships in the room, all of it from the wrecking-ball of my destructive truth telling.

But I cannot be stopped. I am a cinematic dissident. I name the Movie That Will Remain Nameless.

There follows a pause big enough to park a Penske truck in.

Our friends watched Movie That Will Remain Nameless on Academy DVD – and loved it. It was one of the bright points of their housebound winter. I feel as if I have impugned new Motherhood. I feel as if I have taken a dump on the coffee table. I feel bad.

“What didn’t you like about it?” is the eventual polite reply, asked the way one would ask someone who just declared he doesn’t like to breathe fresh, clean air.

“I’d rather not get into it” does nothing. Nor do the glares from my wife. The living room floor, formerly cherry parquet, now seems to be composed of quicksand, and my vector is downward.

Telling the truth got me into this; can it get me out? The following critiques come to my mind: “Derivative.” “An endless procession of clichés.” “Trapped in a dumb premise.” “No character development.” “So-so acting.” “Seems like a long music video.” “Exploits the Mumbai slums like Three’s Company exploits Jack Tripper’s roommate situation.” (OK, that last one didn’t come to my mind, but it’s true.)

In the spirit of honesty, I lob a couple of these observations out there. After all, intelligent people can disagree about movies, right? But everything I say seems to somehow become a euphemism for “You are an idiot for liking this movie”. Even when I say “People like it because it’s current, and set in India,” it sounds like an insult. Will someone please throw me a lifeline?

Safe at home later that evening, I randomly turn on the local news channel: a total of 4 movie nerds are sitting around a table talking Oscars. A total of 4 movie nerds are raving about the Movie That Will Remain Nameless. One says, “Perfect

word-of-mouth movie!”

Well, here’s a word from my mouth: crap!