The Lost Art of Subtlety

Well, Mother’s Day is over. I got some good quotes to put on a jacket cover one day.

“Mom rocks.” -HAH

“My Mom is 10-years-old and buys bread.” -MRH

MBH, says, “She makes a mean eggplant parmesan.”

Thank you children for your honesty. Won’t sell books, but it was a beautiful day. I had breakfast made for me, with a cup of coffee, and my laptop, ready to peruse the headlines, when I came across a Salon article, “I Hate Mother’s Day”.

Being a sucker for a loud, obnoxious title, I read the sour grapes piece and thought to myself: Lady, you are in control of your own destiny. The day is what you make it. You can choose to have high expectations, following a tradition you don’t care for, or you can have breakfast with your child, open your homemade cards, and carry on with the rest of the day like it was any other beautiful Sunday. Whine, whine, whine. Salon often goes for the cheap tricks, and I got suckered.

Just like I had gone out the night before with friends to see The Great Gatsby, and cursed it. It was a manic interpretation of a classic, geared to attract a new generation of people who are used to a much louder media. Really, what does Jay Z and The Great Gatsby have in common? Oh, right! Overdoing everything. So lets amp up the symbolism, the music, and the themes. And throw in a gorgeous, 100 watt Leo smile for some pretty packaging. Get those swooning Titanic chicks to pay up.

But what happens with all that noise?

I got my answer waiting in line for the restroom, when I overheard young movie-goers say, “Oh my God. That was awesome! I mean I didn’t really get the book, but Leo is beautiful!” No joke, by the way.

How can you create a theme around loud excess when young moviegoers are so accustom to it, they don’t see the irony, the metaphors, or hyperbole? How can you see the spectacle, when you live in the spectacle?

Hollywood doesn’t have the patience for subtlety. Whether it’s perpetuated, or they’re just targeting their audience. But it is a little disheartening to know that the loudest person in the room gets the soapbox, the article read, and the movie that’s watched. Perhaps, I need to make better selections. Like how I chose to spend my Mother’s Day. It was simple and full of gratitude, which would never compel me to write an article like, “I Hate Mother’s Day.”

Oh, choices.


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