I recently emerged Rip Van Winkle-style from a long technological nap, so I was totally unaware of the complete travesty that is Blu Ray until I watched Star Wars part two/five on my swanky new TV last night. Words fail me. I was so excited about joining the 21st century and I just can’t even describe how crestfallen I’m feeling. ‘Crestfallen’ is way too benign a term to describe my umbrage. This really needs to be said: Blu Ray sucks. The Emperor has no clothes. It’s like someone took the magic out of the Industrial Light and Magic.
I really cannot believe I paid good money to watch movies that look like they were staged in my middle school auditorium. I feel like I’m watching old Dr. Who episodes from the 1970s. Do I need closeups of people’s crappy Muppet wigs and Costco Halloween costumes? R2D2 looked like something I made out of milk cartons and paper grocery bags in 1968. The whole Ewok village thing reminded me of the set of this really trippy Marty and Cross saturday morning TV series from the early 70s:
Seriously, the enhancement is appalling. It reminds me of the time my dermatologist suggested I get a mirror with extra magnification power (better to track the decaying process) and I asked her why on earth I would go to extra effort to observe my slow demise when seeing the wreckage with the naked eye was bad enough.
Is no one else outraged? Or did people get outraged 15 years ago and have now made the necessary adjustments in expectations. I never even had cable! I still order DVDs from Netflix. This is kind of a shock to my system.
Look, not to put too fine a point on this: Blu Ray blows. I know, I know: the contemporary movies look great, I’ll love it, this is progress. I’m going to be a grown-up and withhold judgment. But do people really feel they need to see Mark Hamill’s facial pores and pancake makeup? I want movie fantasy. Isn’t that the whole point? If I’m going to see green screens and 1950s paleontology museum dioramas, why not just go putter around in my basement and make my own cheesy theatrical sets? I could string together a few tin cans and toilet paper rolls and make a space ship. Or settle in for a nice chapter of
Twilight, I mean Homage to Catalonia.
There’s such a thing as too much information. There’s such a thing as too much progress, too, it turns out. My new Vermont friend said that very thing yesterday: there are costs associated with progress, he told me.