Shame On You, Or Me, Or Whatever

I discovered this film the other day, and I mean, I discovered it. Never heard of it before, had no idea it existed, just saw it on HBO as I scrolled around, looking for something to watch while I ate lunch at my desk. The trailer looked mildly interesting, and it had two actors I like.

There are plenty of reasons I’d never heard of Just Like Heaven. First, there are a lot of movies I’ve never heard of, because there are a lot of movies. Second, it was released in 2005, so awareness could have faded with a film I never got around to seeing. Also, that doesn’t look to have been a big movie-watching year for me; skimming the top titles for 2005, I remember seeing one of the films in a theater, and a couple of others eventually.

Third, and I’m not sure I understand this, I wasn’t crazy about Reese Witherspoon (I probably had barely heard of Mark Ruffalo then). I may have seen her play an unlikeable character and that colored my opinion.

I’ve become a fan now, which is one of the reasons I paused when I saw Just Like Heaven. It seemed fun, a romantic comedy with a little fantasy built in just to appeal to that part of my odd brain. I love romantic movies with ghosts and angels and a lot of dry ice.

And that’s what it is. It’s light entertainment, and as soon as I heard myself explaining the plot line to my wife, I realized how predictable it was. It doesn’t have the emotional sucker punch that, say, Ghost had, or the magic of major stars in Heaven Can Wait. I’m not sure I can imagine ever wanting to watch it again.

But I enjoyed it a lot, reminding me that I’ve been thinking of this quite a bit. Enjoying things without wondering if they meet the imaginary criteria I hold in my head when it comes to quality. I’ll get tired quickly of a crappy, badly made movie, regardless of the subject matter, but I’ll also rewatch things that never measure up on the flashy, award-seeking scale. I’ve got a whole list of these, although I’ll never refer to them as guilty pleasures because I have no guilt.

And I have no interest in recommending this film, although I obviously can write about it. It was a couple of hours of pleasure, and I’ll take it.

...

I also spent a couple of hours this week rewatching the last season of The Good Place, which I’d be glad to recommend. It has a deserved reputation as being provocative for a sitcom, talking about serious issues between the yuks.

That’s the problem, right there. Profundity will always come across as superficial when you have to squeeze it into 24 minutes, once a week, and leave room for laughs. I mostly watch it for the laughs.

But in that last season, they make a case for the complexity of modern life, and the ripple effects of unintended consequences. Just buying a tomato enables a climate-destroying, worker-oppressing culture of corporate agribusiness...you just wanted a salad. It’s hard.

One of the funnier lines in this, in fact, clarifies the whole thing. “Dude, there’s a chicken sandwich that, if you eat it, it means you hate gay people. And it’s really good.” Complex, as I said.

You can boycott the sandwich; go for it. You can refuse to watch the NFL, or The Bachelor (please). You can avoid Walmart and Uber and GE, and some of these might be kind of useful, or at least give you some feeling of activism. But they’re mostly pointless; it’s all too interconnected to ever know, or want to know. Sometimes you just need a tomato.

All of this is inspired by Bill Maher, by the way. Apparently he made a comment the other night about bringing back fat-shaming (had no idea it had gone away), and there’s been push-back.

I despise Bill Maher, curiously. Why should this mediocre comedian who bases his career on being provocative and not very nice surprise anyone? I read a fair amount of commentary from people on the periphery of show business, mostly writers, and some of them have Maher stories to complete the picture of an asshole with strong misanthropic tendencies, but c’mon. This is his thing.

This is everybody’s thing. Shock and provocation are the building blocks of fandom. Dave Chappelle has recently done something similar. Yawn.

But I have friends who adore Bill Maher, apparently, because (I guess) they like that he holds some opinions they share. Which is gonna happen, but I’ve called them on it occasionally, just sharing thoughts between us, and they acknowledge his flaws but, y’know. He speaks truth.

Maybe. Doesn’t matter. Still an asshole.

It’s just curious that I have any opinion at all. I don’t watch Bill Maher, or even come across him on another show or in another medium. We can choose everything now. I choose to go Maher-less, and it’s easy.

And while I could argue with my friends, make my point about his reckless and obnoxious comments every week, and why they’re enabling this sort of awful person, whomever died and decided I should run the world didn’t explain it very well.

If Bill Maher gives you some pleasure once a week, I have zero interest, or I should. I’m all for pleasure, and life is complex enough. Eat the tomato. Watch the comic.

Don’t watch The Bachelor. Please. It’s hurting America.