When parents watch films.

I’m tired. I’ve had a long day with the girls. They’re asleep now. I’m glad.

We had a Chinese new year party yesterday and we all went to bed quite late. We’re tired, and wanted to watch a film.

We went through the list of the best of last year, went to the newspapers and the online purveyors of such critical statements.

Twice now, we’ve been let down. And that’s just in 2017. Before then, the deflation has been numerous, manifold. They’d said we’d love it, that it was awesome. And it wasn’t. It was its opposite, confusing, banal and slow. Was over playing its character detail and umderplaying its plot.

Why, critics, do you do this. Why tell people they want what you see when they only have the time, the energy, for a really, really good story. I have no time for nuance, for angst, for derivative versions of some outdated story from yesterday.

Tell me a story, a good one — not one that you assume I’ll intone.

I’m not dumb, nor blasé. But I’m bored of people being paid to tell stories that are not interesting, are irrelevant to most people’s lives and add nothing to the lives of those choosing to spend their time and money on viewing them.

I see you. American honey and everybody wants some.

It’s not, and no one does.

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