I feel like shit. Figuratively. Physically. Spiritually. I've had a cold for three months now, and the symptoms are beginning to win again. More disturbing, however, is the idea of spending $15,000 on a student short film when there are people dying in the streets of New Orleans. Of course, even that observation exposes the dark nature of my American vulgarity. When aren't people dying in the streets? When isn't spending $15,000 on a movie absurd?
We console ourselves by make-believing our films are "important." They're independent, anti-establishment, and have a message. And $15,000 pales in comparison to the millions of dollars spent producing fluff like the episode of ACCESS HOLLYWOOD currently buzzing in the background. Bob Barker is considering retirement, by the way, in case you missed it during the hurricane coverage.
I guess that brings us to the BIG question. What are the ethics of art and entertainment? Is it ever just to spend money on a non-necessity when people are suffering in poverty, disease, and filth? I'm not sure. I know the capitalist answer, but the cosmic one eludes me.
On a side note, the very first draft of my feature script INDIAN RIVER ORANGES climaxed with a hurricane. I took it out almost immediately because it felt too meta-narrative at the time, but since last year's hurricane season, when Hurricane Francis landed in the very town in which INDIAN RIVER ORANGES is set (destroying my sister's rental home in the process), I've been considering adding it back in.