Herald the return of cinema. No more meaningless doppelgangers,. Hollywood was cloned in a lab and shot and its body was tossed into the rusting dumpster whose flaky metallic paint chips are reminiscent of America. The audience have been willing accomplices to the murder of Film as a medium of artistic expression. None of the Theaters are showing the experimental, Cinema has been pasteurized. The camera is a tool free to all but for what, as a mirror into the minds eye of the creator. No other medium gives such a lucid account of what the director wishes to show. Detailed, sharp and close in. Or hazy, soft and vague. The world is all these things, Cinema is reality, at least that is the ideal. More and more the Directors vision is filtered through studios, investors, cynical audiences, and the demands of box office success. so many obstacles barring all but the most determined from reaching true artistic nirvana. The blockbuster "shit exploding" genre portrays reality at its crudest, life at visceral face value. Free from the sort of pondering stillness that allows real meditation. Long shots are threatening, they make the audience vulnerable. People do not like being vulnerable, New cinema is cut fast and wastes no time, as if that is going to reduce the amount of time spent watching it all. Rather our patience is ever waning, The next piece of entertainment must up-throttle if it is to be noticed. Faster more more more. The volume of content is increasing exponentially and noone is there to sort it all out. The human race is out of control and will soon drown in over saturation of art. We will one day realize that it's all art. For good or ill, even that entertainment produced for the lowest common denominator is in some warped sense a piece of human triumph: This fact is most troubling indeed

This does not however mean you have time to witness all of it. There are things to be done, the clock is ticking at an accelerating rate and if a film is to be watched it better be the cream of the crop. You liked the one movie about the guy who could read minds, but was driven to suicide when he saw that everyone basically thought the same things, word for word, and all conflict; war famine mass suffering, was this one consciousness willing itself to nothingness. It made you think and it seemed clever but now you sometimes have unpleasant dreams containing a black grin and a white light and a skeletal hand with small scraps of skin left dangling but quickly dissolving into peach colored dust against the vacuous void. The movies should relieve this kind of psychic pain.