And it's not because I'm a Celine Dion fan.

I don't know that I've ever heard a Celine Dion song besides the "Titanic" one.

Yeah, yeah. You’re not fooling anyone, Emerson! Somewhere on the interwebs, we all know there is a MySpace fanpage you keep under a pseudonym that lionises the ambrosial majesty that is the Queen of Quebec (and I don’t mean Patrick Roy).

But seriously folks, this is a very interesting discussion, Jim, and, as you say, inexorably linked to the ideas we all talked about during the “Moviegoers who feel too much” discussions. Cultural snobbery, and its ugly twin cultural slumming, and their devilish little sister, the eventual dismissal of the critic, and opinion, are three subjects that I spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about. I have so many thoughts racing to be aired at the moment, that I must do so after I go for my run, but before that, I hope you wouldn’t mind my pimping a recent middlebrow essay I wrote on The Phantom Menace, which forms the basis of the argument I shall put forward later on in the afternoon.

JE: Is Celine the one who sings "Ayyy-eee-ayyy-eee-ayyy Will Always Love Youuuuuu?" Or is that Clay Aiken? (Thank you, and good night, Las Vegas! I'll be here all week...)

Embarrassed to be seen with the book? That's why Amazon was invented.

Taste has stages. When you're a teen or in your early twenties it's a pose. Your taste reflects that which you believe to be cool or cliquishly acceptable. For years after this there are secret likes and dislikes. You love movies or music you know you're not supposed to according to the pose you've created and loathe others that you've argued as great. Then by your thirties and forties (unless you're arrested developmentally) you start to hone your tastes to an honest assessment of what you like and don't like and everyone else be damned.

I see that in the blogs. They are a celebration of people writing about things they like or dislike regardless of what they're supposed to like and dislike.

So get the book, Amazon or not. And when's the Michael Bolton book coming out? Cause I know a guy named Bob Slydell who can't wait much longer.

I remember it like it was yesterday even though it was almost 27 years ago. I was four years old, sitting at the table in my grandmother’s kitchen, as my parents discussed which film to take in that afternoon. The choices had already been narrowed down to two, Die Blechtroemmel (Best Foreign Film Oscar winner), or Clash of the Titans (where Harry Hamlin is guided in his magical quest by a mechanical owl). Now the films couldn’t be too different, and I recall my mother’s leaning towards the best foreign film Oscar winner, which usually means that the decision would be made soon.

To this day, I have not seen Die Blechtroemmel (and there’s a lot of sex in it, apparently, so damn you Harryhausen, and your captivating stop-motion effects which must have eventually enticed my parents), whereas I must have seen Clash of the Titans at least twenty times. We are all fastidiously forged in the crucible of experience, with nostalgia and the search for validation as fuel to the fire. As such there is emotional resilience in what we like, and how and why we like it. There are, of course, much bigger forces at work – that shape us, and our understanding of the world, too. And I suppose that’s where the class struggle argument fits in. Cultural snobbery, as I mentioned earlier, goes hand in hand in the modern world, at least among the self-described literati (I use the word extensively), with cultural slumming, with which the afficianado (by definition, of highbrow art) will rationalize their enjoyment of what they might perceive as the more plebian art of the lumpenproleteriat (this is not just particular to the upper and upper middles classes, but the petit bourgeois, too). The dismissal of critical opinion is the final step in this process. That, I believe, is the theoretical groundwork in a strictly dialectic way. But how does it work in practice? Easy.

“You know, I don’t usually go to these type of films, I prefer Mikhail Romm, and his somewhat ironic portrayal of socialist realism, but, well, sometimes you just want mindless fun, which is why I am now standing in line for High School High.”

I have no problems with people enjoying High School High. I do have a problem, however, with this rationalization process. It has three detrimental effects linked to the troika of points I brought up earlier:

1. It creates a hierarchy in art. As Wilson says, and as Jim mentions, it “(divides) culture into highbrow, lowbrow and middlebrow.” This arbitrary classification (or de-classification, if you like – Ho-hum) is nothing but addle-brained reductivism. By definition, it instills in the enjoyment of art a specious “class struggle.” At its worst, people start feeling embarrassed for liking High School High, and others vindicated (or entitled) for liking Romm.
2. It automatically labels people who enjoy this lowbrow art, who enjoy it without the pretensions I mentioned earlier, to a sort of cultural leprosy. As such, the artificial distinction of the first point is solidified, and has a converse effect as well. Our man who loves his Romm so much will jest that he is slumming when he watches High School High, just as the person whose life revolves around Jon Lovitz’s afro in the aforementioned film will quip he’s “being artsy” when he runs into Nine Days in One year, and finds himself enthralled by it.
3. Finally, it reduces everything into a false dichotomy of whether the work of art in question is worthy of critiquing or not. “Well, it’s just a (insert genre or the filmmakers’ names),” becomes a mantra in this case. But understanding why we like or dislike a work of art, or why someone else, a critic we like (or dislike), enjoys something we abhor helps in the quest to constantly challenge one’s self. Why we are where we are, why we like what we like, and how we got here (again points raised by Jim). In the big picture, it is irrelevant whether or not High School High is any good (it isn’t) just as it’s irrelevant whether or not Nine Days in One Year is any good (it is). There were two comments recently at The House Next Door regarding film criticism (linked to the earlier round of discussion we had a few weeks back); Ty Keenan said: "Frankly, at its best, criticism is a form of light therapy for both the critic and the reader." To which Matt Zoller Seitz replied: “True. Two of my favorite descriptions of criticism are from Pauline Kael, who in her 1995 collection Love Letters told people that were always asking her to write an autobiography, "I think I have"; and Walter Chaw, who in a House interview with Jeremiah Kipp, described film criticism as 1% savvy, 99% auto-psychoanalysis.” Who doesn’t want a piece of that? Even if it is about High School Bloody High.

This rationalization overshadows the story of our interests, how we got to where we are culturally. Clash of the Titans led me to Greek mythology, which led me to mythology as a whole, and then to languages and poetry and essentially the arts in general. This is very simplistic in purpose, for I must away soon (I am seeing Cloverfield, finally – but when I get home I will pop in The Seventh Seal because I am cultured), but I would like to explore this subject further. The fact of the matter is we don’t feel ashamed of our political, economic or sexual choices(though I would be pretty perplexed if all three were the same person – “not only do I subscribe to Marx’s economic theory, I also want him to be the leader of my country but not before I nibble on his luscious beard”). We should not be ashamed of our cultural choices either.

Once again, a great topic of discussion, Jim.

There is a definite twinge of shame mixed with disgust when something is so popular, has been so saturated and overblown in media attention that the natural reaction to it may be a bit anarchic: "If this is what they're feeding us lets blow it up and if we go down with it so be it." I think this can relate to tight knit social groups as well in the choice of a mate. I have a close group of friends and have noticed over the years that the girlfriends that come into that circle are decidedly similar to the rest of us in taste, same ballpark at least. In order to break down shame's hold over my taste, if the two are separate at all, I can state with modicum of guilt that one of the first thoughts when meeting a new girl is whether or not she would get along with the group of friends. If the answer is no then that's the end of that. But is this because me and my friends are similar in certain ways that if I don't think the friends would like the girl then naturally I wouldn't like her or am I considering the social body first and letting that influence my decision making? Hmm...this is a tough one. I can also see deriding the highbrow at different turns in defense of "glorious trash" and then turning around after too much trash you can't get the stink out of your nose so you immerse yourself in Bergman for a month and you start to feel sane again. So, from my own experience at least, I can sense when I'm defending something out of genuine love and affection or when it's more politically motivated, or the person on the other side of the table likes something I may like/dislike/be-indifferent-towards but I don't much care for the other guy so I leap onto the weaknesses and call the guy an asshole in so many words. So is the motivation as important as we think, is it all just how we're feeling at that particular moment, upon waking can we be one person and then be someone totally different when we go to bed? I think so, but I think we also possess the faculty to know when we're playing a dirty hand when expressing an opinion. There's usually a flash in your minds eye of something the other person did that you don't like, the totem you hold onto to stoke your hatred, and a prickly feeling in your stomach. At those points, I try to say nothing.

This is a difficult question for me to grapple with, though I'd fundamentally like to believe that my sense of taste extends beyond the socio-edu-economic construct that I find myself in.

My likes and dislikes are socially influenced, but there are so many tributaries that I follow on my own accord. For example, I was inspired seven years ago by a friend to purchase a Charles Mingus record. Little did I know that bebop era jazz would flower into something that I love in the absolute. This was fed, partially, by the tastes of my broad social circle, but much of it was fueled by my own cultural curiosity.

I also see little to be gained by staring down the mountain at fans of Celine Dion and whatever Kate Hudson romantic comedy happens to be playing this week. Nick Hornby's famous assessment that it matters not what you're like, but what you like, rings false. There are plenty of Matchbox Twenty fans who have fascinating views on economics and religion. I'm sure there are also Aki Kaurismaki fans who are complete dullards in other areas of inquiry (full disclosure: I have yet to meet anyone of this latter set, though plenty from the former). If we are truly curious people, there is little to be gained by constructing false social bulwarks; either subconsciously or consciously.

This is a very interesting subject, and it reminds me of something I heard in regards to the AFI Top 100 Movies. It was either on the television show presenting it, or from Jonathan Rosenbaum's alternative 100, or (I seem to think Ebert said it) from something Ebert wrote possibly in regards to the AFI 100. Anyway, the gist was this: the more films (yes, films) we see from these lists of (semi-arbitrarily decided) classics, the "higher" our tastes become. We develop the desire to see more movies like these greats and lose the urge to go see the latest torture porn. Their words (well, their thoughts).

That never sat well with me. Doesn't that seem like (a step away from) brainwashing, or am I overreacting? I haven't quite seen all of either AFI list (just a few more, and frankly, I'm not looking forward to it), but if I ever lose my love for "lowbrow" movies like Mean Girls (is that considered lowbrow?), I'll be sad. I don't see why High Culture and pop culture can't intermingle. Which reminds me of an essay from Chuck Klosterman's latest book (Chuck Klosterman IV) about the inherent paradox of guilty pleasures--if something gives you pleasure, why be guilty about it? I agree with Klosterman in that respect, only because I can't come up with an example of something I like that I'm guilty about.

I'm sure I need to think about this some more, but it also goes back to the recent discussion on here about Pauline Kael's one-viewing policy and how seeing a movie again twenty years after you first saw it can give you a completely different experience. I think it's safe to say our tastes change over time, and the more you're inundated with the highbrow, the more you will grow to appreciate it, but I also personally hope to never lose a love for pop culture as well.

No offence but this blog is kind of gay.

People dont like celine dion cause she sucks not because of sociopolitical divides.

This post assumes a lot of preceptions that noone out of your little microcosm will understand

Jim ---

This is an interesting topic and I regret to inform you, that I indeed at one time in my life owned a Celine Dion album. I know, I know, it’s horrible isn’t it? But I think you are onto something when you say:

Well, yes it is, and we can all trace our own similar meandering pathways through movies, music, art, science, history. It reminds me of... researching and writing and publishing a blog, where a (self-)examination of one preoccupation leads to another and another and another. What you end up doing is challenging yourself endlessly, pushing yourself to get to the root of how you think you understand something, to go where you find yourself feeling most reluctant to go, and to articulate what you find out -- which often amounts to more questions and challenges.

I can relate to this “pushing yourself” you refer to. I think the reason why I listened to Celine Dion was because my mom did, and without knowing better I adopted her musical tastes. But just as you suggest, I think that our palates do evolve and help us sift through the dreck; however brief my experience may have been with Dion’s music, I was able to experience new sounds and move on, pushing myself into a new zone of discomfort that made me question what it was I was listening to. How was I to know how good this new music was that I was experiencing without coming from such a horrible musical beginning? I cannot explain it really (apart from my older brother being into punk rock) but I moved from Celine Dion, to punk and ska, which then gave way to hardcore and metal which brought me to where I am today as a music fan. I am always looking for the next new sound or an un-heard of band (usually from Seattle) that is interested in making unconventional music. My days as a fan of punk rock and heavy metal forced me to search far and wide for the music I wanted to hear, because it wasn’t mainstream and readily available. I thought I was much cooler because in order to hear my music, you couldn’t simply turn on the radio. Simply, I felt smarter and more aware and better than the “average” commercial music consumer, because the music I liked had to be found. Once it was found by everyone, I was no longer interested and tried to move on to the next thing.

I think with maturation in age you also start to see how ridiculous this process is. I am only 25 now, but I see that my music and definitely my film tastes have changed. My palate is huge and has many different colors (or tastes, if you will) on it but I am always seeking to be challenged by new kinds of music and film.

In high school one of the greatest years ever for my friends and I, was 1999. We went and saw interesting film after interesting film like: “Magnolia”, “Being John Malkovich”, and “Three Kings”, they all blew our minds as seniors in high school. We hadn’t seen anything like it. We all went and saw “American Beauty” three times in the theater. At that age and with how relatively empty or palates were, those films looked liked masterpieces to us. A couple years after “American Beauty” came out (and I started to seriously watch film) I found it to be average. I had moved on from it and from films like “Fight Club” and “The Usual Suspects” (all movies we thought were so cool in high school), and was starting to get into what I thought were better films by directors like: Bergman, Fellini, Ozu, Jarmusch, Scorsese, etc. I started to look at film through a different lens. Where as when I was in high school and involved with making films for the school, I was interested more in the aesthetics of the film; however now I was seeing that the narrative was just as important and I needed something more than style over substance, so I really started looking to Bergman and Fellini, two filmmakers who can do both exceedingly well. I also think I was (without really knowing it) trying to separate my tastes from those of the “average” or popular moviegoer.

To wrap up this incredibly long winded post all I can say is this: I think as film lovers we are always evolving and seeking to elevate ourselves from the norm, whatever that may be. Someone may enjoy “Rambo” because it doesn’t require you to think and someone may enjoy a movie like “Children of Men” because, to them (I am paraphrasing a lot of what I heard a film class of mine say in college) “it makes you think and has the coolest shot ever in a film.” And some of us prefer to move even beyond simple stories of dystopia and cool looking tracking shots, and think about films like “No Country for Old Men” (to use a recent example) as something that has people talking, but for what reasons? I think there is something inside each person (I don’t know what) that revels in the glory of knowing or not knowing why – say the end of “NCFOM” – is damn disappointing or cheap and why some of us see it as being so damn powerful and necessary. This is why I have grown weary of films by Michel Gondry and Wes Anderson; because they are doing the same thing over and over with a certain amount of smugness that only seems to exist for the reason of elevated itself into high art, when it’s anything but that. I don’t know if the die hard fans of these kinds of films ever care to move beyond them, or if they do, it’s for all of the wrong reasons as they turn their back on the film because the “average” or popular moviegoer is starting to embrace the film (i.e. “Juno”).

Whichever camp someone may come from, I think some people enjoy knowing what others don’t know, and that’s alright, but as an ever-maturing filmgoer I want to hope that there will always be a film out there that will challenge what I thought I knew about the medium I love so much.

I’m not even sure if these jumbled (initial) thoughts on this topic make sense, but thanks Jim, once again you have me thinking about something I’ve never really thought this in depth before.

For whatever reason, this got me thinking:

Can a film be both low brow and high brow at the same time, essentially obliterating concepts of taste? Why do the concepts of taste articulated in Wilson's book or in this post mean anything if such a film exists

For instance, David Cronenberg's The Fly (some consider high brow for the concept of the film, some consider low brow for the trappings of the genre)

Maybe, maybe not.

I think Jonathan Lapper described my stages of taste, pretty well. And where does one who actually kind of likes that "Titanic" song, but didn't like the movie, nor anything else I've heard from the chanteuse, fit into the equation. Likewise, because I'm now in my forties I can admit that I liked "Lost in Love" but nothing else by the Aussie Celine Dions. (Was it Air Supply?) I'm sometimes baffled when both lovers and haters fail to notice differences from one work to the next other than "even more enchanting or even more awful than the last." This is a sign to me that someone is not really critiquing the work but positioning themselves culturally. There may be some "artists" who have never done anything worthwhile but anyone who never produced something pretty worthless probably died real young, let's be frank.

I can't attest to the AFI list, but I can say that my taste in film has been materially improved by viewing 9 of the Top 10 films on the Sight & Sound Critics Poll (Side note: I hope to see Murnau's "Sunrise" before the 2012 poll is released. That, along with "The Magnificent Ambersons" and "Love Streams", are the most scandalously excluded titles from the American DVD market). Certainly, my own top 10 list looks very different, but I couldn't have done much better than to start with the widely recognized classics, much as I had to when reading "Huck Finn" and "Macbeth" in High school lit class. If those films awaken your cinematic taste buds, they can take you in a thousand different directions.

Having said that, there's nothing sacred about hating on popcorn fare. If art films are designed to invite you into a subterranean level of understanding, mainstream movies are designed to meet you where you're at. There's no reason those two paradigms can't co-exist, nor is there cause to feel guilty for enjoying the latter set. Personally, I only feel guilty when my obsession with films, arthouse or otherwise, subsumes other parts of my life.

Oh boy. This is a sticky wicket of a subject. For me, living in Quebec, Celine is regarded by many as a demi-goddess. I have found myself criticizing her in hushed tones when in a crowd. I have met die-hard fans as well as haters, but even those who admire her get a little embarrassed by her chest-pounding near-hysterics.
My taste in music runs the gamut, from hillbilly to rock, to be-bop, electronica and contemporary composers. But of all the aspects of music I am most fussy about, it is the human voice. It's here that people get the most divided, and like having a person lecture you in an abrasive tone, I feel I am being yelled at by certain singers. Celine is a yeller, as is Streisand and other divas. They "have the pipes" as they say, but when you're sensitive to a certain tone or volume of projection like I am, you just want to run out of the room when they start belting it out. Nat King Cole or Ella Fitzgerald complimented the music, became an instrument of joy within the band, and never had to show off to be heard.
The voice, more than any instrument, is a form of self-expression which elicits a more personal response from the listener. I hear Celine Dion and all I hear is "Listen to me!" It feels like the kind of thing American Idol is looking for - all volume and bombast, no subtlety or grace. Like the musical version of a Michael Bay movie.
I personally hold no grudges against Celine. If I heard her for the first time, I'd say "she can sing, but she's not my taste in music." End of story. What I find troubling is having music I would normally switch off, repeatedly belted out everywhere I go. I won't argue with the fans, and I can understand her popularity. Some people love clam chowder and I can't even look at it without feeling nauseous. It doesn't mean I'm a chowder snob - I just don't include it in my meal plans. So once again, it all comes down to the mystery of taste.

Brandon, I don't remember Roger saying that, but he wrote in response to one of his answer man questions that people who seek out old movies and obscure new releases are and always be a minority, "some people have tastes, but most have appetites". Furthermore Roger wrote this in his review of Gamera: Guardian of the Universe:

`Gamera: Guardian of the Universe'' is precisely the kind of movie that I enjoy, despite all rational reasoning. How, you may ask, can I possibly prefer this Japanese monster film about a jet-powered turtle to a megabudget solemnity like ``Air Force One''? It has laughable acting, a ludicrous plot, second-rate special effects and dialogue such as, ``Someday, I'll show you around monster-free Tokyo!'' The answer, I think, is that ``Gamera'' is more fun.

There's a learning process that moviegoers go through. They begin in childhood without sophistication or much taste, and for example, like ``Gamera'' more than ``Air Force One'' because flying turtles are obviously more entertaining than United States presidents. Then they grow older and develop ``taste,'' and prefer ``Air Force One,'' which is better made and has big stars and a more plausible plot. (Isn't it more believable, after all, that a president could single-handedly wipe out a planeload of terrorists than that a giant turtle could spit gobs of flame?) Then, if they continue to grow older and wiser, they complete the circle and return to ``Gamera'' again, realizing that while both movies are preposterous, the turtle movie has the charm of utter goofiness--and, in an age of flawless special effects, it is somehow more fun to watch flawed ones

So in my opinion, yes, you are overreacting in worrying about moviegoers being brainwashed by Wormwood and Screwtape, and only watching the "right" movies. High culture and low culture do intermingle.

Obviously the AFI 100 list is an easy target to lambast for its arbitrary selection process. Roger once said that the value of the list is that it supplies a lot of good video rental ideas. That may have been what you were referring to. But I think his point had less to do with establishing a "taste", than with introducing the classics for some amount of cinematic literacy. This isn't to enforce a high-brow consensus of what constitutes a good movie, but to deepen a moviegoer's understanding of where the movies they like came from. For example, imagine someone who likes to say "Out damned spot!" and then finally one day reads Macbeth and for the first time understands the context. Hopefully it will simply be edifying and an inspiration for curiosity, not "Oh I had it all wrong the whole time".

As Roger once said, children are more likely to see the parody before they see the real thing.

Kevin:
I always thought 1999 would be a great year for a teenager to begin an interest in movies. There were the films you mentioned, and also the last film of Stanley Kubrick along with all the retrospectives that followed his death. So you could learn about him for the first time and then be briefed to see Eyes Wide Shut.

"People dont like celine dion cause she sucks not because of sociopolitical divides."

Um...doesn't this statement kinda prove the whole point right there? Isn't it *evidence* of a sociopolitical divide (or whatever phrase you prefer)?

Or, in other words: OK, you think she sucks. Fair enough. But why does she suck? I'd be very surprised if your answer isn't one of two possibilities, either of which would pretty much confirm (in my mind, at least) the "sociopolitical divide" you speak of...

Although, to be fair...On a separate (but related) note, one thing I've struggled with in the last few years is wondering if I've managed to escape one form of culture-smugness, only to fall into another.

Like pretty much everyone, I had that phase of basing my likes and dislikes on what I thought was cool, acceptable, etc. I got past it, and became able to expose myself to things without worrying what others would think of my interests. Along the way, I picked up a sense of...I dunno what to call it, but basically, I've become the sort of person who is always railing against taste-makers. Defending the Celine lovers. Saying "I may not like this, but if someone else gets enjoyment/enlightenment/etc. from it, why should I look down on them just because it's not for me?"

Anyway, the problem is, I got to the point where I was starting to get satisfaction from this. Enjoying myself a bit too much as I wagged my finger at the taste-makers. So I wonder: is my smugness any different from theirs? Are we two sides of the same coin? Or *should* I feel good that I'm defending those who get snickered at for the things they love?

I think our tastes vary not only from year to year as we mature and grow, but also day to day depending upon our moods.

I also find my relative enjoyment of a film often has a great deal to do with expectations. I don't put Citizen Kane among my all-time favorites, and I'm sure it's largely due to the fact that " Greatest Movie Ever" is a lot to live up to.

And I'm not sure why certain Genre pictures, especially comedies, seem to be less worthy of discussion. When I made my list of 30 lieblingsfilms (sp?) a while back, there was nary a comedy to be found. I could have included Animal House or There's Something About Mary, but I didn't. And I'm not sure why that is.

Don't we all enjoy the right kind of smug?
I'd like to stand up for Wes Anderson a little, because I don't think anybody on this site will.
I've always looked at his work as a satire of the rich. All of his films show a personal sadness that cuts through the smug and ironic tone (irony=smug seems to be the view of many today which is a shame, and yes I say "film", to my taste "movie", abbreviated from moving picture sounds condescending, cheesy and dated). All of his films have explored the theme of family disfunction but this is hardly a limited subject. To call his stories "the same" is preposterous and simply dismissing his style, which has been consistently idiosyncratic and deeply personal.
I think a lot of the hate comes from his imitators, but personally I see a film like 'Juno' and I'm reminded how good Anderson is. Consider the brilliant clash of mostly traditional style Indian music vs The British rock styles of the Kinks (who often satirized the Rich) in the 'Darjeeling Ltd' recently. You aren't going to tell me that this juxtaposition isn't evocative considering History and speaks volumes about what's going on in the film, raising the use of music above simple indulgence. Which is my point, there are reasons for his style choices. This is why it rings false when Juno listens to Iggy and the Stooges but the flim of the same name plays us Kimya Dawson. I apologize to "Juno' fans btw, it's the most recent and popular example and despite what I've written, I did like it.
I'm sorry about the rant but I couldn't let a statement like "doing the same thing over and over with a certain amount of smugness that only seems to exist for the reason of elevated itself into high art, when it’s anything but that" stand without a bit of a fight. It isn't the references that make it "high art" but the command of style if we want to get pretentious. He shouldn't be dismissed.

To extend the topic: Liking a Wes Anderson film more than a lot of things has to do with social economics. Discuss.

Most great directors movies' feel the same, it's why we even pay attention to who directs a film. This is why I'm so confused with the new P. T. Anderson (Can't believe I liked it!).

Is there anything more tasteless than book-length whines about "why isn't everyone just like me?".

Most of the 'high brow' films I appreciate for middle brow reasons. For example, the main I'm in love with 'The Rules of the Game' is for it's clever plot devices and its superb acting; not it's underlying themes about the French bourgeosie. Although this may be a completely separate topic pertaining to viewing 'classic' films out of their historical contexts.

Until I was a teenager, everything I thought I knew about the upper classes came from the movies: they ate snails, they were recreationally multilingual, and they went to the opera and loved it. Like most kids, I imagined that the opera wasn't something I could possibly like, as it was obviously the province of rich old snobs who buy jewelry for their hookers. That most are really just older variations on the same soapy melodrama or screwball comedy that power a Celine Dion song or Kate Hudson film didn't seem to matter, when the ritual involved dressing up and sitting in the best seats you could afford.

Contemporary pop forms were supposed to have erased the highbrow/lowbrow divide. Cinemas and recorded music have always been oases of egalitarianism in deeply stratified societies - all units cost basically the same, and are widely available to nearly anyone who wishes to partake. But in spite of that, we haven't stopped projecting the baggage of class, race, and gender onto them. Somehow, by virtue of casual association (say, an appeal to educated older urbanites, or maybe some subtitles) a movie or an old record can be deemed "highbrow," and consumers may subconsciously respond by drawing barriers around it.

This is not the same thing as taste. Going to a film or concert is traditionally a social ritual, and social rituals have always been heavily defined by socioeconomic status and tweaked by the sort of advertisers who would put that dowdy Iowan housewife face on the Dion fan. In my opinion, we arrive at taste by a different process.

We look to pop - and by that I mean just about all contemporary art, not just the bubblegum - to manipulate us. Celine Dion fans forgive her vocal histrionics, which embarrass the rest of us, perhaps because they read them as raw emotionality. Well, "Cries and Whispers" worked that angle pretty well, but call his fine work lowbrow and you'll spend the next month apologizing.

Of course, it would be very wrong to suggest that the millions who have bought Celine Dion records are all "fans." Familiarity alone can sell a product that ubiquitous. We take greater pride in our tastes when we've arrived at them through a process of discovery than when they are pounded into our ears by the media bullhorn. I admit, I find myself loving my favorite obscure artists less when they become famous. It's like watching your sweetheart go out and get gang-banged.

Knowing that today's trash is the raw material - or the epitome - of tomorrow's high art, I can only imagine how we'll be analyzing this stuff when Celine Dion is old enough to be stylish retro kitsch.

One things for sure noones ever going to make a compelling movie about people who argue about Middlebrow vs highbrow sensibilities and the various contexts in which we evaluate art on the internet

There is no metaphysical lowbrow-highbrow divide. "There Will Be Blood" is a darkly comic absurdist masterpiece in my opinion, yet I found "Shoot'em Up" to also be intoxicating, in its Bugs and Elmer Fudd cartoon-come-to-life sort of way. Personally, I feel "The Darjeeling Limited" is Wes Anderson's most emotionally-resonant film, that Adrien Brody has the best sad clown face since Buster Keaton, and that, like in life, objects do carry with them a great deal of personal significance. (See Proust for details.) Still, why would anyone listen to Celine Dion when they could put on some Nina Simone? Or Sinead O'Connor? Or Petula Clark? Or Nico? Or Joan Jett?.......

Major Major: "But suppose everybody on our side felt that way,"

Yossarian: "Then I’d certainly be a damned fool to feel any other way. Wouldn’t I?"

Re: Wes Anderson. I'll stick up for him, anytime, and however many times he plays certain notes they are still his alone and he only plays them every three years or so. Meanwhile, much of the other stuff out there is hardly distinguishable from three movies released last week.
Re: This "film"/"movie" thing that seems to be distressing some people. One thing you learn about writing is that hearing the same word every sentence gets stale. And when writing about the subject of "cinema" it's hard to avoid using one of those words a whole lot so I say: mix 'n match and the hell with how your brow is labelled (Oops! that's the British spelling. How pretentious). I mean labeled.

Fascinating discussion once again Jim! I can't resist jumping in so here goes nothing.

First a little background - I'm from a low-income working-class family. I also dropped out of college before graduating. My tastes range from what some would consider the extreme "lowbrow" (comic books, Ted V. Mikels films, McDonald's fries, etc.) to the extreme "high-brow" (Evelyn Waugh, Antonioni's films, sushi, etc.). On my bookshelves my manga volumes rest comfortably next to the collected works of Shakespeare and my Alain Resnais' DVDs don't seem to mind sharing self space with Ruggero Deodato's Cannibal Holocaust.

I really believe that our family backgrounds and early education/experiences shape our adult views and tastes much more than most people realize. I think if people spent a lot of time examining how they learned to use their critical thinking abilities at home, in school, etc. they'd find patterns there - both good and bad - that helped form thir adult likes and dislikes. Of course, a lot of adults haven't developed any kind of critical thinking skills sadly and they parrot popular opinions in an effort to "fit in" or take contrary views to appear "different" depending on the circumstances.

I consider myself lucky (when I'm having a good day of course!) to have had extremely smart, open-minded and liberal parents who taught me to think for myself and disregard class, race, etc. at a very early age. Individualism was stressed above all else in my household and it was reinforced by the variety of books, music and films I was exposed to growing up. We might not have been able to afford our own home, but my dad made damn sure our bookshelves and record bins were always overflowing. I was also allowed to read and watch just about anything. In the process I was encouraged to develop my own likes and dislikes.

As a teen this led to major problems for me unfortunately. I didn't know how to "fit in" and more importantly, I didn't want to. The public school system is no place for strong individuals and I was constantly at odds with authority figures and educators. My parents raised a rebel, but after my father passed away unexpectedly my mother was left with a wild child that she didn't know how to reign in. My tastes have never been influenced by my peers. In turn I was an outsider as a youth and I spent most of my time reading books, listening to music and watching movies alone because none of my friends liked the same things I did. This pattern really hasn't changed much as I've gotten older.

I usually have to wait until things I like become trendy or popular with a large body of people before my adult friends take any interest in my own interests. It doesn't bother me though (It did when I was younger), and I enjoy sharing my odd tastes with others, which is one reason I started my blog. As I've mentioned there, I like introducing people to unusual films that they may have never heard of before in an effort to expand their audience and expose people to underrated or overlooked films and directors.

In my world so-called "highbrow" terms like auteur can easily be applied to directors like Jess Franco. But I really pity film critics who get tripped up in class distinctions and label things "highbrow" and "lowbrow." I also find it really amusing that the best work of so many important artists like Godard, Bunuel, etc. was created in direct opposition to the "bourgeois" ideals and old-fashioned concepts about class that terms like "highbrow" and "lowbrow" only uphold. These kind of distinctions do nothing to advance popular culture in my opinion and only place severe limits on the human imagination.

And for the record, I loathe Celine Dion, but I love Barbara Streisand. I can only guess it's because I grew up with Barbara Streisand's early records, but frankly Barbara can sing circles around Celine and she's a lot funnier! Well, at least to my ears and eyes anyway, but I'm not going to tell a Celine lover that they should stop buying her records. Variety is the spice of life and one person's trash is another person's treasure.

"Still, why would anyone listen to Celine Dion when they could put on some Nina Simone? Or Sinead O'Connor? Or Petula Clark? Or Nico? Or Joan Jett?......."

Those are all artists that, in some way or other, you find. And if you love them, it's because you found them at exactly the right moment in your life. On the other hand, Celine Dion comes to you, usually against your will. I spent much of 1997 envying the deaf.

The people I know who admit to having bought one of her records tend to have small record collections; music is perhaps not a major passion for them, and they don't have to venture far beyond the radio to find something they like. Lucky them! Incidentally, they all happen to have enormous and diverse book collections, so I wouldn't dream of writing off their cultural literacy.

I can see this entry reflects your ongoing exploration of why any person (or yourself) like certain things and dislike others, Mr. Emerson. Since I enjoy this kind of mental exercise, here are a few questions for the fun of thinking rather than to give any answers:

1. The class issue is interesting, but might not be palatable to many Americans, because the concept of class struggle has never gained much public recognition beyond academics. Americans overwhelmingly consider themselves "middle class" and tend to view poor people as being self-irresponsible or lazy rather than an issue of class system.

2. In terms of taste and class influence I pose two possibilities: a) the need to seek validation of one's own taste in crowd approval and b) the aspiration to become a part of the "upper class" who imply not higher sophistication but higher socioeconomic status. For a) I refer to the universal need to "belong", to define one's worth in social connection with others, to seek comfort and safety by "fitting in." Even the goth kids or cult cinema fans need to have their own circle to belong to. It is a natural and basic human psychological need to belong. The validation need is connected to b) as we want to belong to a more privileged, more advantageous group rather than a group that is lower on the food chain. I reference the chapter about the naming trends in the book "Freaknomics," in which the economist author Stephen Leavitt convincingly argued that the statistics of children's names reflect their parents socially upward aspirations for their children.

3. It takes a lot of hardened objectivity to examine the influence of class and pretension on one's taste and is certainly difficult. Another difficulty is to toy with the possibility that one's taste is subjective rather than logically objective standards. I can't help my own belief that Titanic is an objectively bad movie and my strong dislike is as much of a truth as the earth moves around the sun or evolution. It is difficult for me to face the possibility that my taste is nothing more than a personal taste and has no more claim on objective reality as someone else's favorable opinion about the movie.

4. To continue on point #3, I have to wonder whether our need to validate our taste and defend our taste and judgment as better than the taste of the Wal-mart shopping mass is a need to disprove our own snobbery and prove our objective superiority. To believe that somehow our subjective personal opinions about art can be measured by external and permanent standards to be "better" or "higher." I have to wonder whether the excessive intellectualization of academic art criticism is based on this urge to "prove" one's correctness over others who disagree.

5. I don't want to suggest that from now on I will stop having my own opinions and taste about movies or literature or art, but that I will be less concerned about the validation of my taste and opinions. The key is to give more respect to other people's taste and opinion a bit more allowance rather than dismissing them as being "stupid" or "low brow."

I've heard various forms of this argument before (Chuck Klosterman has written more convincing versions of it several times), and while I think there's something to it, it's incredibly reductive. I prefer Billy Holiday to Celine Dion. Is that because I want to identify myself with the more educated, affluent audience that might seek out old Jazz records to the Wal-Mart crowd who looks for Celine Dion CD's? Or is it because Billy Holiday was a brilliant miniaturist whose grasp of adding psychological demension to a lyric was uparallelled while Celine Dion's over the top caterwauling might just be irritating and artistically shallow?

Seriously though, certainly our "tastes" say a lot about how we might like to think of ourselves, about what groups of people we might identify with, but there really is such a thing as artistic quality. I hate Celine Dion, but I really like Miranda Lambert and Alan Jackson, both of whom sell an awful lot of CDs to the Wal-Mart crowd.

Of course, sometimes this argument about taste does hold kinda true. I'll always hate the Dave Mathews band because I'll always be uncomfortable liking a band beloved of so many frat boys.

"I'll always hate the Dave Mathews band because I'll always be uncomfortable liking a band beloved of so many frat boys."

Fair enough, but I've never held this against Bob Marley.

Despite some of the withering remarks here, it's not a =crime= to enjoy Celine Dion at a certain moment in your life (or at many moments, for that matter), any more than it's a crime to enjoy Arnold Schoenberg.

I don't actually grasp why people get so intemperate (and defensive) about their tastes in books, movies, music, paintings--nobody gets choleric about their tastes in, say, food. Nobody feels obliged to defend himself for eating at La Cirque on Saturday night and KFC on Monday. Sure, some vegetarians pretend to superior virtue, but who takes them seriously?

So why take seriously somebody who beats you over the head with his adoration of, say, Coltrane and his contempt for Kenny G? Or somebody who sneers at your fondness for the Farrelly Brothers while he gets his laughs only from Chaplin & Keaton? Or who patronizingly warns you that Truffaut is a Hallmark card while Godard is the touchstone?

Pleasure is an absolute good, and what you love on your 10th birthday is as legtimate as what you love on your 30th (or 50th, or 70th), and anybody who tells you different should keep in mind that wonderful advice from Sir Toby Belch:

"Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?"

"I'll always hate the Dave Mathews band because I'll always be uncomfortable liking a band beloved of so many frat boys."......"Fair enough, but I've never held this against Bob Marley."

Sadly, it does get tough for me to keep appreciating Bob Marley when his mug has plastered in front of pot leaves on so many black light posters. I'll just cross my fingers and hope that those lunkhead never discover Toots Hibbert. Then I'll really be screwed.

Yeah, I know I'm undermining the point of my earlier e-mail, but that's fine. I'm not saying that self-perception and cultural cache have NO influence on what we like. I'm just saying that it's reductive to pretend like everything about somebody's aesthetic sensibilities can be reduced to some kind of psuedo-Marxist cultural critique.

A more interesting critique about "taste" might be a line of argument about how our ideas of authenticity are constructed. Donna Summer is someone who doesn't get enough cred in my book, and James Taylor is someone who gets too much.