Words Of Mouth

I am a book snob.

Literary snobs, at one point or another, are usually playing devil's advocate for sport. They scoff at literary phenomenons like the TWILIGHT series or HARRY POTTER and mention a lesser known title from an irreverent author from the past, better yet a dead author, to make sure that what they are reading isn't completely over saturated or understood by others. Obscurity seems to be the key ingredient to the kind of arrogance I am referring to. But why are we like this? Why am I like this? What is it about citing a piece of information and then secretly hoping that the person you are talking to has never read it or better yet, even heard of it? I don't have the answer to that question. I do however have an extrapolation on the topic that I am going to subject you to right now.

Bookworms like us just want to tell you something you don't know. And then we want to hear something from you that we don't know--until we don't. Case in point: THE HUNGER GAMES. I tend to not like the diction and syntax of books that cater to the masses. While they often offer up an emotionally satisfying experience--with regard to excitement and plot--they are almost never the cerebral confrontation I am looking for. This is not the case with my taste in films. Yes, I like art films and indie pictures, but I also like blockbuster epics and am more than happy to indulge in a universal comedy like THE HANGOVER or the romantic ridiculousness of something like MY BEST FRIEND'S WEDDING. So why is it that I was first reluctant to read THE HUNGER GAMES series and then disinclined to see the first installment of the trilogy of films? This I think I have an answer to.

Suzanne Collins, when she wrote this book, likely didn't expect the worldwide sensation that has since occurred, but she probably knew that what she was writing about was fairly universal. Death and the idea of watching it. There were many things about this film that I did not like--but they were mostly related to technical aspects of the manner in which it was shot and strung together, etc. [Side note: These kinds of films do not need to be in excess of two hours. They just don't--especially when they are an installment in a series.] However, in looking around the fairly packed theatre I was in (given it was a quasi-matinee that cut right into dinner time, I was impressed with the turnout), I wondered why these people were so intrigued--and I wondered how many of them had, in fact, read the book.

Twenty-four adolescents fighting, seemingly senselessly, for their lives, had a profoundly hollow feeling in this story. It is obvious why the film is gaining attention for its similarities to story lines like the Truman Show, but the bigger question that should be getting our attention, is proposed in the film itself. Why do we watch?

Why do we watch a movie? Why do we watch a movie adaptation of a book that we (not me as of yet) already found satisfying? I think that people believe the answer to these questions are quite complex and it is not. We are all voyeurs. When you say voyeur, you immediately invoke a negative connotation--but perhaps that should not be the case. Maybe voyeur is just a nasty word for a person who wants to tell you something you don't know. And a word for a person who wants to hear something from you that he or she doesn't already know.

I went to see THE HUNGER GAMES because I always feared what it would be like to be drafted into a war, to be forced into imminent death, and worst of all, to be separated from my twin brother. To be able to dabble in that fear, to stare at it and let it wash over you for a finite period of time, and without consequence or reality, is a kind of morbid candy that in theory allows you to confront your fear without having to conquer it.

I went to see THE HUNGER GAMES because despite my literary snobbery, I think I should always (whether it is with a director, a screenwriter, an author, or a movie) take the time to hear other people's interpretations of death. Death, like these literary and cinematic phenomenons I am referring to, is universal. So at the very least, I can walk around talking six ways from Sunday about Emily Dickinson and her deaths in the opposite house, and I can preach about her know-it-all nature when it comes to mortality, but I should also start listening to what contemporary pop culture has to say on the matter.

At the end of the day, even I found my exclusion of the book to be an obnoxious and short sighted judgment, so I'm buying the book.

There, I said it.

Damn it.