Last night I walked into a particularly stupid Twitter argument. One of my mutuals said that Greta Gerwig, the writer/director of Lady Bird and the most recent Little Women adaptation, has only made films that are “embarrassing and trite” (the former) or resentful and disrespectful toward men (the latter). I haven’t seen either film, so I cannot speak to that.
But it sounds plausible.
Someone responded, “Making an honest, critical portrait of your life and relationship with your mom is probably the bravest thing a creative can do, same with remaking a classic and doing it justice.” Perhaps. I agree that it takes courage to be honest and a tremendous amount of self-confidence to think you can bring anything new to an adaptation of a beloved story. If it’s done in a spirit of true humility. Call me a cynic, but I’ll say it:
Hollywood runs on pride (take that how you will).
I effectively responded that the chief principle of conversation applies to film. No one cares about you, people want to talk about themselves. Unless the personal story in your film makes people say, “That’s me too,” it’s niche, self-indulgent, nonsense. The defender of Gerwig replied, “WTF does that even mean?”
It meant it wasn’t worth my time to engage any further, and so I did not.
We’ve become a society of narcissists, and we’re too quick to indulge other narcissists. To reject something as trite is to set a standard to which we don’t want to hold ourselves, so we say, “That’s great, because I can do it too!” Or worse yet, “I affirm the artist’s truth because I like it.” But there is a standard of truth, regardless of how an untruth makes us feel. If Gerwig’s Little Women adaptation is filled with small-minded little women complaining about the patriarchy that protects them during the war, which is the logical role of men, we have every right to be annoyed. Even if the attitude du jour is to put down men.
Especially then.
But let’s get back to my original point. A story is a conversation between an artist and his audience. We’ve all been trapped in conversations where the other person is always right, doesn’t care what you have to say, and only wants to talk about himself. There’s no give and take. That person isn’t courageous, no matter how honest he may be. He’s a bore, and we reject his company. We’re only invested in a conversation when we know the other person understands us and our experiences, if there’s a humility that is open to disagreement.
A story can convey understanding and humility, or it can reject it.
At best, a one-sided story is trite self-indulgence. At worst, it divides people into camps. Stories should draw us together, even when we disagree. That’s why I withdrew from Mr. WTF on Twitter. He was already too entrenched in his camp for any sort of engagement. It’s sad, really. Pathetic. But I don’t have time for anyone who claims ignorance as a valid argument against my point. Frankly, he proved it. Of course he would defend Gerwig's style, as it's one he has clearly adopted into his own life.
The story of our conversation was going nowhere, and the mark of a good storyteller is knowing when to say, “The End.”
