Don't Wanna Be an American Idiot

Movies can be entertaining, funny, serious, thought-provoking, cautionary, even edifying.  Rarely is there a movie that drains whatever intellect is left in the brain second by second until the last frame.  This one ranks in the so-bad-you-don't-want-to-miss-a-second-of-it category.  Let's see if there are enough brain cells still intact and not screaming out in an agonizingly slow death-by-Hollywood to write this blog.

Tonight's feature film was chosen based on an online exchange with some folks about the dumbing down of practically everything.  One person suggested that the movie "Idiocracy" should be viewed more as a cautionary science fiction tale than a "Porky's"-like farce.  Having never even heard of "Idiocracy" it went to the front of the Netflix queue. 

The opening shots of mountains of rubbish taller than buildings reminded me of the opening shots in "WALL-E".  I know WALL-E.  WALL-E was a friendly little movie.  And Idiocracy is no WALL-E.

Both movies have a protagonist that is "not one of us".  In both movies, tender sprouts play a major role.  In both movies, humans have gone soft.

In WALL-E, humans play a supporting role to the robots and machines.  It makes watching the movie much easier because we identify with the robots more than the humans.  We can pity the humans for what they allowed themselves to become.

In being a comedy, Idiocracy makes it difficult to pity the humans.  It's difficult to feel any connection with the humans because humans are the story.  We're left to wonder if too many episodes of Beavis and Butthead accelerated the decline of humans in the movie.  Ironic, when you remember that Idiocracy was brought to us by the same creative team behind Beavis and Butthead.

Like a rubber-necker who can't turn away from the sight of a horrific and deadly crash scene, my eyes were glued to the screen until the after-credits scene.  My mouth may have been hanging open due to the badness (and not in a good sense) of the movie.  Afterwards it felt like I needed a shower.  And not just to shower off the dirt.  A mental shower to help wash out the trash and replenish some modicum of intelligence. 

My brain cells were begging for "American Masters", a good ballet, or Harry Connick Jr. singing old standards.  When did being smart or liking ballet and opera become a joke?  Does knowing O Fortuna at the first two notes make me an elitist?  If so, send me to Siberia or put me to work in the rice patties.