Revolutions and The Trend of Anti-Trend

I found a great article on The Matrix: Revolutions called: In Defense of The Matrix. It's written by Tom Hoban and Matt Dorfman. I think it's worth reading if you've seen the movie.

In the meantime, there was a paragraph that stuck with me because it puts brilliant words to an idea I've been thinking about for a long time. The passage says:

"As for the Matrix, we were sold on it so long ago that we're better served by enjoying it for what it is.
It's surprising that so many people seem to have missed this notion entirely. The suffocating layers of irony that totally engulfed hip, urban, intellectualism have made it near impossible for people to get excited about anything anymore, least of all something so universally popular. We've created a culture of hating stuff, where it's not just easier, but safer, to be disappointed then to go out on a limb and say, 'you know what, I really enjoyed that.' Unless it's so esoteric and ambiguous that no one can reasonably make sense of it, it can't be cool."

I don't point to this quote because I see any problem with actually disliking or feeling indifferent towards the third installment of The Matrix; I point to this quote because it makes an interesting point. Somewhere around my seventh grade year I started to notice a trend around me that I called "The Trend of Anti-Trend." There seemed to be a growing sense that anything which attained any status or merit within mainstream culture must be hated at all costs. It seemed that the only way to establish yourself as a unique individual was to make sure that you weren't caught appreciating anything that "everyone liked." The slippery slope of it all (which seemed apparent to me even then) was that this phenomenon was born as a trend: and so, everything that was chosen to replace the likes of the masses represented the choices of a different mass. Thus was born a movement of pseudo-intellectual superiority that continues ad nauseam.

Now that I live in New York I see a much broader scope of this phenomenon. I see armies of "individual" scenesters who scoff at anything outside of their own circles. Each subset with it's own uniform and exclusive frames of reference. Frowned upon is the cross-scene floater, as is anything that does not fit in this particular box. I have more conversations with people on a daily basis about art that sucks than I do about something that is really great. I read newspaper and magazine columns that stream insults at the art they write about. Nothing is ever good enough, unless it is an obscure piece of art on limited distribution. It is much better to be hip enough and smart enough to advocate art that is avant-garde and difficult to view. This makes you infinitely more evolved as a New Yorker, and as an American.

I too, see a culture that is built on hating things. I even find myself wrapped up in it sometimes, but there must be some value in wanting to be entertained. There must be some virtue in going into an experience hoping to get something good out of it. Is it so bad to have common interests, with people very different from you, in things that speak to you? Does the art that we appreciate say so much about us that we are afraid to let people in? Does this mean that construction workers in the Bronx will be hiding under the covers watching 'It's a Wonderful Life" on a portable TV at Christmas time, for fear that someone will see a vulnerability? Is the world so big and terrifying for many of us that we feel we have to claim a piece of intellectual territory, and hold on to it like we're making a stand at our own personal Alamo? Or is the fear that if you like something accessible, that you may find the differences between you and part of your tribe, and be lost in the cultural void?

I say open the dialogue with art. Look at what it touches in you. Find the universalities inside it. Be willing to be entertained. Then choose!

You know there's a reason they call it Entertainment.