How often do you wake up only to be told that stuff you have grown up on is not just passé, but something you might be ashamed of in hindsight? The same stuff that has stood by you in the times of distress and has helped you beat blues? Has it ever happened to you or the ones close to you?
We often end up taking a liking for stuff quite oblivious of the intellectual stimulation it might have to offer. That is to say, we like what we see and don’t care about any extra baggage. We don’t dissect it, we don’t analyze it by putting it under a microscope and we don’t theorize much. We experience something. We like it and in turn feel happy about it. Upon repeat experiences of the same things over the years, we get close to it, feeling immensely proud of its association.
Now imagine years later, some literary giant, whether in the form of a writer you look up to, a print publication you admire or an online column you respect, tells you how juvenile your tastes are, making you feel guilty in retrospect, and you consequently run to rid yourself of the same stuff that now borders on puerile? OK, the latter might be a case of slight hyperbole, but you get the drift.
I totally admire people moving on in their lives and in this process acquiring newer tastes and experiencing newer stuff that probably is an outcome of their education. But doesn’t the same education that purportedly broadens your mental spectrum teach you to grow tolerant? Real education lies in the fact that in any form there could exist extremes in a graduated fashion, and yet all these can dwell in total harmony.
Then how is it that the latest is just what the trend doctor ordered, and the old something that is trash worthy? Why feel so ashamed of something you have thoroughly enjoyed in the past? Why does Tom Cruise’s Maverick in “Top Gun” (1986) lose out to Tim Robbins’ Andy Dufresne in “The Shawshank Redemption” (1994)? Aren’t they oranges and apples? Why dedicate reams to singing accolades to the latter while taking every opportunity to berate the former? How less was a Maverick who was the source of all those adrenaline-pumping thrills of the yore? Why can’t the two idols stay where they are? The need to praise one entity doesn’t warrant another’s rebuke.
On a related note, why do critics or those of the self-appointed ilk move on to fresher horizons no sooner than they realize that the commoner has caught the same fever too? Their need for exclusivity, for possessing esoteric tastes, for a unique perspective makes them try harder.
Take, for example, “The Matrix” (1999). I am sure at the time it was released, only few could relate to, understand, quote and discuss all the philosophical, moral, technical and metaphysical mumbo jumbo the film offered. Fine. Online groups were formed, many a forum was dedicated to it, and people felt like they belonged.
But the moment it started gaining mass adulation with the Wachowskis laughing all the way to their banks, these exclusivists or specialists moved on. Probably they felt they were losing it, and had to seek something new to cling on to. I have been witness to many a person like that who swore allegiance in the beginning only to end up not touching the same with a proverbial barge pole. Why?
1. Purists/elitists read a book.
2. Purists/elitists love the book and praise the book.
3. Purists/elitists find that commoners too like the book.
4. Purists/elitists cannot digest that commoners like the book.
5. Purists/elitists hate the book.
6. Purists/elitists pan movie based on the book.
How many examples could you cite of the above phenomenon? I think of Dan Brown’s “The Da Vinci Code” off hand.
The book never in its entire course pretended to be one hell of an intellectual treatise that would change the faces of archaeology, history and theology as we know them. It was a fun read, nowhere pretending to be a literary classic aiming at posterity, and it was in the simplest terms a good value for the money.
Now that it, in its course to attaining fame, rekindled a lot of people’s interest in the issues it dealt with was only ancillary. The same critics who initially showered encomiums on it now trash it. Probably if it were not a mass-consumed product, if it were a cozy intimate affair that catered to a select few, it would have been up there on all time lists. It probably became too popular for the fans and their fandom.
I could say the same for “Pulp Fiction” (1994). It attained its cult status because it was never in the league of, say, “Speed” or “The Specialist” of the same year. I in no way mean to take away anything from Quintin Tarantino’s piece of nonlinear art, but the fact that few could grasp the nonlinearity in the first serving or comprehend the various pop cultural flags made the movie and, consequently, those who understood it special. Are these examples in isolation or am I reading too much? I don’t know. But look around, you will find examples aplenty.
Why do I have to be bombarded with critics telling me, often with a condescending tone, what is in and what is out? Why is it that they, the know-it-alls, feel the urge to be separate? Why can’t they be among us to take the art-enjoying phenomenon to greater levels, in an inclusive manner?
Santosh Kumar T.K. is a graduate student in forest products. He can be contacted at [email protected].