#5481 ·
I’ll simply say that if you absolutely require some specialized background knowledge just to grasp or experience a piece of art, then in my view, it belongs in Category B. This applies to everything, not just cinema. It’s the same logic I apply to "art" that functions exclusively for idiots—pieces that essentially insult one's intelligence by being mindless.
Category A art is the kind that strikes a chord whether it’s being viewed by a guy working construction on a roadside or a tenured professor at Harvard.
Essentially, those specific elements of an artwork that correspond to our existing knowledge or niche interests provide pleasure precisely because of that recognition. We gravitate toward stacked references, subtle homages, or when certain technical flourishes are pushed to the foreground, because noticing them makes us feel smarter, more cultured, and more enlightened than those who miss the cues. People love that feeling, of course, and they consciously or unconsciously link that sense of intellectual satisfaction to the quality of the work itself. But to prioritize those components over the overall impact of the piece—or to assume someone like Joe Smith would find value in them—is nothing more than intellectual posturing or professional blustering. Or snobbery; call it what you will. I’ll admit, I sometimes catch myself falling into this trap in other artistic fields closer to my own interests, where I notice technical subtleties, but I can usually recognize the impulse and shut it down.
It would be like me trying to explain to you that you can’t enjoy a painting because you didn't notice the exact brushstroke technique used. How many people actually know how to spot something like that? Is that specific brushwork, which a few connoisseurs will argue about endlessly, more important than the final result that gives a broad audience butterflies in their stomach? Or is a painting inherently flawed just because you haven't studied ten thousand others in your lifetime? To put it in sports terms, do we need to understand the exact physics of the ball or every single muscle contraction involved for us to appreciate a legendary volley from Lionel Messi during a match in London? Why should I have to master the mechanics of directing and editing just to find a movie compelling—aren't directing and editing simply the very tools the artist uses to move me?
Category A art is the kind that strikes a chord whether it’s being viewed by a guy working construction on a roadside or a tenured professor at Harvard.
Essentially, those specific elements of an artwork that correspond to our existing knowledge or niche interests provide pleasure precisely because of that recognition. We gravitate toward stacked references, subtle homages, or when certain technical flourishes are pushed to the foreground, because noticing them makes us feel smarter, more cultured, and more enlightened than those who miss the cues. People love that feeling, of course, and they consciously or unconsciously link that sense of intellectual satisfaction to the quality of the work itself. But to prioritize those components over the overall impact of the piece—or to assume someone like Joe Smith would find value in them—is nothing more than intellectual posturing or professional blustering. Or snobbery; call it what you will. I’ll admit, I sometimes catch myself falling into this trap in other artistic fields closer to my own interests, where I notice technical subtleties, but I can usually recognize the impulse and shut it down.
It would be like me trying to explain to you that you can’t enjoy a painting because you didn't notice the exact brushstroke technique used. How many people actually know how to spot something like that? Is that specific brushwork, which a few connoisseurs will argue about endlessly, more important than the final result that gives a broad audience butterflies in their stomach? Or is a painting inherently flawed just because you haven't studied ten thousand others in your lifetime? To put it in sports terms, do we need to understand the exact physics of the ball or every single muscle contraction involved for us to appreciate a legendary volley from Lionel Messi during a match in London? Why should I have to master the mechanics of directing and editing just to find a movie compelling—aren't directing and editing simply the very tools the artist uses to move me?
