Quick Hits on Tiny Furniture – Lena Dunham (2011)

-I really didn’t catch on to the big deal about the film. I mean that in both the negative and positive: I don’t see what is so great about it, but I certainly don’t see what is the worst thing ever in the world about it. I found it to be a fairly innocuous picture that tread over the same ground as films that came before it, truthfully. There is nothing wrong with that; every director treads over the ground of their inspirations, Welles and Scorsese chief among them. It’s the last thing I’d fault a director or a film for, but I’m also a little skeptical about about the sincerity of the film. It does feel like art for art’s sake, not because there is anything needed to be said. You are supposed to learn something from good films — anything, even the causal recipes that Coppola throws into his films. I didn’t learn anything from this film. I don’t care that it was privileged, I care that it was, for the most part, empty.

-I’m trying to think of more to say about the film, but it didn’t really affect me very much. Most of the reactions I had to it were based on other people’s reactions to it. The extreme views don’t add a balance to the film, they take away from it greatly. But people are allowed to love any film they like and make a connection with, so fair play to people who liked this. A lot of the hate it’s garnered is pretty despicable, but that’s what we’ve become lately: any movie we don’t like is an assault on our senses, a declaration of artistic war which is fought out in the anonymous realms of the internet where the director is helpless to fight back. Of course, I just called the film empty on the internet. I suppose I’m just as bad as the rest, except I wish her good luck on her HBO show.